Chapter 1: The Slayer And His New Toy
Summary:
John just wanted to serve his time and deal with life on Mars at the UAC. Unfortunately for him, he now has more than demons to deal with, and all are hungry for a fresh marine.
The Slayer returns to an almost familiar place, and this time, he's got a new marine to keep him company. Said marine finds out just what that means for the pair when he learns about the collar.
Notes:
Welcome, we're heading right back into how this all began. At the UAC after it went to Hell. But this time, we have two marines to travel with. Again, I cannot apologize, not matter how much you might want me to. :)
We're starting with a new guy this round, as I wanted to make it easier to slip into the setting. Don't worry, the Slayer arrives pretty quick into this chapter.
The demons this time will match with the location like in Doom Slayer's Downfall, as they seem to morph every game. But I do get interesting with the designs when having fun with the Slayer in ways I cannot with other games' versions.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
There isn't much light to illuminate the marine’s way through the rubble. Between the flickering bulbs overhead and his flashlight, he travels the ruined labs almost blind. The narrow halls and destroyed sections of the building only making it that much harder to navigate this hellish place.
A step through a door he had clearance for allows him to slink past a zombie that moans in a corner. Quick to click off his flashlight as he sticks to a wall, using the glowing eyes to keep track of this… thing.
It wasn’t human. That is all that mattered. There was no point wasting ammo as he hurries to the next section of light and reloads. If it means hunching in corners and hiding, he would do his best to not have more jump out of the shadows. Like now, as he squats beside a pile of rubble when a white monster stomps past, the cluster of eyes above a gaping maw having him hold his breath. A shaking hand kept steady when the thing stops near the crate, sniffing the air.
Then it growls and turns back to get on all fours, fast feet sprinting around a corner. A long minute used to make sure the area was quiet before he scans the hall and runs to the next door. In the following section when the harsh static of his communicator blasts into an ear. The sharp pain bolting through his brain when he hisses his acknowledgment. The deep and blunt voice of his superior, Sargent Kelly, speaking with the same curt tone as every time before.
“Sir?” John whispers, using his dark green armor to blend into the shadows.
“Marine! Do you hear me? How close are you to finding Bravo team and the card? This is more important than anything else. We need to get a message to Earth soon. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good.”
The link ends, a sharp beep in the ear when a creature slinks on the ground, gaunt limbs scuttling in the dark past his hiding spot. His plasma gun getting a fresh reload, he tiptoes to the exit. Another clip that was left discarded on the floor gets stuffed in a pocket for use later. If not for the guns and ammo that were tossed around before the initial invasion, he would have given up a long time ago. The chaos of this entire event had him bracing for whatever disaster might come next.
But that’s the thing about his whole situation. All he was supposed to do was pay for his rightful crimes and act as muscle, just like he was told. Though who was going to care now? He was here five minutes, and Hell had literally broken loose.
What the fuck was chasing him? Still had no clue, but they must be things the Devil pulled out of his fucked-up brain and dropped on Mars like pocket lint. The bastard was without a doubt laughing at them as he listens to the screams of the dying. None having a chance to fight back while Satan got off on the whole thing.
Shit, he had little time to do more than grab his pistol and move when this all went down. Couldn’t even save the scientist that warned him something was wrong. The same heart-pounding anxiety returning as he braces for his upcoming sprint.
The marine takes a deep breath and hurries toward a bunch of large machines. He hears more in the shadows, picking up the pace. Rushing through the hall, he sprints past a huge laser into the computer room above. His pistol in hand when he hears the moans of zombies, he opens fire as the former operators shamble forward. And he does not stop shooting until all are dead, grabbing the PDA by the control panel. The data transferring to his own, he double-checks this is the right person to unlock the next area. Then clicking his tongue when it wasn’t the proper clearance. Would need to go higher up the chain.
Why can he not just get the authorization from Sargent Kelly? This security situation was not doing anyone favors.
A beep to tell him the transfer was complete, he grabs his device and looks around to see another zombie avoided his attention. His gun was still in hand to fire, hitting its rotund torso. This one showing that it was bigger and therefore tougher than the ones before, absorbing the bullets into its soft flesh. A swing of the rotting arm almost smacking him across the face when he turns to run, and a second, weaker zombie opens the door.
More shots blast into this fucker; far too many wasted for it to fall. The precious seconds he squandered allowing the stumbling tank to close the distance and go for the throat.
The marine backs away more and searches for a safe exit. Only finding a storage space as his heart drops into his stomach, the blinking lights of servers creating a maze. A groan making him turn and see this one was hungry, mouth open and spit spraying everywhere.
There has to be a stronger weapon…
He hopes the next gun does better, whipping out the shotgun to blast a hole in its ashen skull, brains flying in all directions. A glower at the guts that hit his face and shirt, he turns as the zombie burns to ash. And like every fight before, not caring when the gore disappears while he backtracks, right by the proper exit when a crack of lightning flashes to his left. The barrel already aimed and the trigger finger twitching the second a white freak appears. A shell rips through the lithe torso, blasting the creature through the observation window.
He spins around when another crack of lightning comes from behind. His barrel raised to aim at the cluster of eyes on the coward attempting a sneak attack. A couple of shots sending it to the ground with a scream. The clink of the shells hitting the floor when he rushes out of there, in search of the next lighted area. Boots pounding and heartbeats punching his ears to send adrenaline in crashing waves throughout his body.
The rush is all that stops him from choosing an easier escape. If he could just get help, he would be safe. Backup would arrive. More marines were his only hope. Though such a thing looks more and more like a dream as he buys time at a health station. The soft glow of the blue screen against the dull metal is a beautiful oasis of comfort.
A hand sticking out to receive whatever this machine gives out like candy, he pumps as much of the shit he can get into his veins. The flood of relief, when he stops feeling pain in his bones, is all he needs to focus on the next step. This mission was too important to become sloppy. His superior gave him the objective to send a message to Earth, and staying hurt only made things slower.
Sarge gave a simple order, find Bravo team and the transmission card. Said he would need to find both for the communication tower to send a message. But where was the unit carrying it? Bravo team was talking with Kelly and had more bodies. What was the best course? Was this even a good idea?
The crack of lightning warns of another attack, the marine already sprinting around the corner. By the time the monster arrived, he was out of sight and against a wall to see a door just feet away. And at least a level too high in clearance when he checks his PDA.
Fuck! What was the advantage of doing this when he’s wading in demon guts and broken machines?
An unseen creature’s growl ends his ranting. His entire body tenses as he runs back, emptying the rest of his shells into the monster from before as he passes. The blood on his boot gone by the time he returns to the med station and a rumble comes from where the corpse fell, footsteps fast approaching. Growing closer as he trips over a box of medical supplies. Stomping feet nearby when he sees a crate and crawls behind it, the kit at his side.
The creature is close by to shake the floor, having dust and debris hit his head. The fucker was huge from the sound of its footfall. Just the type of shitty luck he really wanted when so out-powered and alone. He would have to be quick to survive this, a chain gun the best he had to knock it back.
But would this be enough? Maybe if he ran…
Machine gun in hand, he braces, a palm on his first choice just in case. The monster close to the doorway, he slinks to the edge of his hiding spot, peeking at the behemoth fast approaching. Almost gasping when the bastard is bigger and worse than the zombies and freaks, looking a full head taller with bulging muscles. The hunched form of this one is obscured from his view at such a far distance, save the massive outline when it sprints through the destruction. His weapon raised to aim when he sees it moving too fast to hit. Already seeing more detail as he knows it would never connect. Not that it had to injure the beast, only buy time. Not a second wasted to pull the trigger. The bullet ringing out in the darkness to strike the wall right where it was about to run.
Its reflexes are impressive when the behemoth stops and turns toward the direction of the shot. The wide maw opens to bare large teeth when taking a quick step forward.
The marine ducks down when it approaches, gripping the weapon when he peeks to see what this demon was.
A chill goes down his spine when he sees this is not some monster. The massive form of a powerful guy, he moves with ease despite his impressive size. Not just the wide shoulders having the man wonder if he was in better company alone with the beasts when a pair of enormous fists curl at the stranger’s side. Soon after, his face twists into something that can only be described as beyond pissed.
But this marine was not one to show his fear. Especially when he finally notices the dumb fuck was no marine, noting the lack of any footwear or armor to offer protection. The wonder of how he lasted this long fills the marine with sheer awe at the stupidity this fellow had. He was now finding it easy to lower his weapon and give a fitting snarl when he steps out. In a low voice, hissing, “What the hell are you doing? Why are you here? Are you trying to fucking die?”
The other man shifts his expression at the words, looking tired when he stares at this marine. More so when he lets out an audible sigh and the ghost of a smile has his face soften. The one who found him raising a brow when this idiot says, “It’s a long story…”
But the marine’s not buying this and grabs the guy’s hand. Dragging him back to the safety of the crate while growling, “I bet the fuck it is! Now, want to tell me how the hell you are alive? Not exactly dressed to fight these monsters. I know you ain't scaring them looking like that.”
“I am not that easy, easy of a target. Pretty hard to kill.”
“Again, do you wish to die? I don’t even see a pistol on you,” seeing no belt or holster anywhere.
“That’s not a worry. There is too much preventing that. Are you fighting rebels, too?”
“The fuck you talking about? We are being invaded by hellspawn that killed almost everyone here, and you are asking about rebels?”
“That,” pointing to the logo of UAC. “Fought them on Mars.”
“Well, we are on the planet now, and last I checked, dealing with a massive space corporation, not a protest group.”
“Then you are good. Better than that version already.”
“Listen… How exactly did you get here?”
“A portal,” answering with such conviction this marine about believes this was supposed to make sense.
“Right,” going over the odd guy with more focus, seeing little to offer an answer in the dim light. Next pulling out the flashlight for a proper view of this walking wall of muscle.
Almost screaming when he finds this stranger is worse off than first assumed. Like he wanted to die the worst way possible, the man only wears skintight pants, his scarred body open for a zombie to tear out his throat. Not even a blade on hand, the marine notices a faint glow from his neck. On further inspection, seeing the light comes out of a red stone embedded in a black collar. Mostly unassuming beyond the sheer fact he was wearing this on a UAC base. A glance at the owner shows he looks around when attention is brought to the accessory, touching a rock. Until he spots the other catch this attempt and hides the arm behind his back.
“Want to explain the fun necklace now, or should I wait until that bites me in the ass?”
“This collar? Nothing that big. He gave it to… not hurt others in battle. Do not touch it. For your safety. And mine.”
“Then why are you here if you cannot fight? This is the worst place for a civilian, let alone one so unprepared to not carry even a rusty knife.”
“The lord I work for. Tossed me here for a… while.”
“Wait, what?”
“He said I was… too much to handle. Sent here.”
“If you won’t take this seriously—”
“I can’t lie about that,” placing a palm on his belly as if this was habit. A sadness in his gaze that makes his eyes dull and shoulders slump in a way that is hard to fake when he adds, “Not after so long.”
“Okay, we’ll get the actual answers about this later. Want to say your name? The name's John Kane. Corporal John Kane,” holding out a hand. But the other just stares at the offered hand with a look of confusion, and he lets it fall back to the side.
“Slayer. My name is Slayer. Marine rank.”
“Please do not… What is it, really?”
“That is my only one. Don’t know if I… had another. Been using it for too long to matter.”
John sighs and rubs his face, at last accepting he would have to take whatever the universe delivered. Choosing to say instead of screaming, “As long as you can keep up, I do not care. Enough questions. Never got paid to ask them, anyway. Stay close, and we’ll have an easier time, okay? We are only walking out of this alive if we work together.”
“Yeah,” a twisted smile on his face, as if he had never seen an actual person do it before. A grin in theory, but not much else. It failed in practice in all of the worst ways.
However, John finds himself unaffected after getting this far. He had a mission and a warm body to talk with. The stranger was weird as fuck, but about as sane as the people here before this all went down. The marine was armed, and this guy had a working brain stem, so better than the other, colder bodies around here.
Another peek at the new guy shows he has some fighting history from the various scars that decorate his sculpted torso and arms. More decorating his face, the square jaw bears lines that make him seem battle-scarred from a serious war. His blue eyes having a lack of light and his hair cut short only making him look angry but determined.
John could not say if he was close in qualifications based on appearance alone. His black locks are shorter and styled back, and he looks less tired despite all this shit, seeming more baby-faced in comparison. Even his green eyes lack the bags on the other. But what should anyone expect when compared to a walking brick house of a man, being a full head taller and with hands that could snap his spine? In contrast, a more standard size—at least for a normal marine—his training somehow brought him this far. Again realizing that really means little in the grand scheme of things when facing this new marine.
But even he could admit they are both not in the best position when only one wears armor and said owner doesn’t have a helmet. Like the universe wanted his skull bashed in by ensuring he never got the complete uniform. Just his torso under the ugly green metal and a good pair of boots, he had been careful to keep it all attached.
The entire situation was enough to make him rub his temples and beg for something right to happen. A plea to the skies that they survive with whatever sliver of luck they can find. His hands clenching for a second to ground himself. The knuckles getting some color back when he sighs and finds it easier this time to accept his fate.
A wave to the Slayer, they stand from their hiding spot and take their first tentative steps into the open together. Each scans the hall before John points the way he was heading. A nod from the other to rush from this lighted area to the next as they continue to the door and listen for the sound of monsters.
Static has them both jump when John links up with Sarge, a scolding tone telling him to hurry. He had already wasted too much time getting lost. A beep ends the message before the man can give a reply. With a click of his tongue, he turns to his new worry and tells him to move. Had a team they needed to meet.
The Slayer nods, promising, “I’ll help until you find them. Or I’m used up.”
“Do I want to know what that means?”
“You’ll recognize when it happens.”
“Hope so.”
“It’s quite obvious. Trust me.”
John says nothing when this statement has the other clench his fist and increase the pace. Only to walk into a fleshy pink monster built like a bull under flickering lights, a roar from the sole hole in the grotesque head almost announcing its presence. A bold step forward having it bracing to charge.
Then it stops, stilling at something worthy of fear.
The sight of the Slayer has it snap shut the massive tooth-filled maw when he walks forward. A low whimper slipping out at the existence of this bigger opponent. Right after it shrinks and turns tail, the metal haunches the last thing either men get a look at.
“See?” the one who so casually scared a literal monster says. “We are safe. These are just demons. They know to stay away.”
“Are you shitting me?” laughing at how damn easy this all became in mere minutes. Next wondering who else he should have shot at if this is how it could end. Now saying, "No wonder you survived so long. If these fuckers don't scare ya, I'd hate to see what does. You really think they're demons?"
"Yes. Faced them before. Or things like them. There's a reason they're running."
"What did you do, Sir?" chuckling when the Slayer tilts his head to the side.
"Nothing special."
"Ah, not giving away all your secrets yet, huh? Smart man."
The other shakes his head and gestures for John to lead again, running the way the animal went.
Or more so, John going as fast as he can while the other seems to put in hardly any effort. The new guy is quick for having, well, everything, that screams a heavyweight in a fight. But its not like there was a reason to complain, seeing how his eyes show a bit of light when he grabs a door that wouldn’t open without clearance, as if he had a key. The other marine gawking when it opens with a grunt to keep moving forward. No time to catch his breath when the smack of bare feet tells John he would get left behind. His heart now racing for two very distinct reasons.
Fuck, guess this would pay off… Better than the last guy he helped, at least. Shame the scientists this location hired couldn’t fight.
Nah, that’s why he was here in the first place.
Though the other marines didn’t fare well either…
John looks at the Slayer to see him keeping a consistent running speed. His powerful legs not slowing as they take a turn and approach the exit in what feels like seconds. After all the hours the other spent hiding, it seems as if they are blazing through the halls. No demon daring to even move when they witness this hunk—hulk of a man. The beasts that had once hunted the corporal retreat as they pass untouched. So many questions that must be asked are racing through his mind, all leading to a single objective: to learn more about this stranger. John had to know what kind of person he somehow stumbled upon.
But for now, both remain silent as they exit the labs and head for the next location. One step closer to the goal when they enter the EnPro facility. This building is darker than the labs left behind, having them slide to a halt. A look around shows that this place is far less destroyed, letting them walk deeper inside as John pulls out the flashlight. The Slayer turns to scan the room, glancing at the soft lights that fail to illuminate the space.
Sarge’s voice ends the silence when he starts off with more news. “Marine. Bravo Team is down. Their operational status is unknown. They were still carrying the military transmission card when attacked. It’s vital you retrieve that card, as it contains encoded data needed to send the distress signal to the Fleet. You’re the last hope to get reinforcements. Find that card and find it fast.”
“Sir, what—”
“Do not waste time!” ending the link.
John turns and points to the next door. “Let’s move. If we do not call for more backup, we are all fucked.”
“No. Not anymore.”
“What do you mean ‘no’? You said you would help, and that trick with the monsters is crucial.”
“That message would get everyone killed. More numbers, more bodies. None will be prepared for demons. Not like you. Or even the dead team... Must change my answer.”
“Well, we can’t sit on our asses and do nothing!”
“Kill who started this. Close the portal they are coming through. It’s the only way.”
John blinks, looking at the man as if he grew an extra mouth. “What are you talking about? I recognize things are weird, but be rational here. We do not know how to find answers. What should—”
“These are demons. I understand what they are. They won’t kill me… no matter what. That’s our best option.”
“But that begs the question, how did you learn this? Seem kinda familiar with these beasts.”
"As I said. I understand them better. No one else stands a chance."
"Give me one good reason to trust a word you said."
"Besides the entire way here?"
"They must have a reason to not fuck with you."
“I fought a metal monster on, on, on my Mars. He bent those demons to, to, to his will. Once he retreated, they stopped serving. After he died… they all returned to Hell. This is no different. Killing the commander ends this.”
“So, you’re telling me the only way to survive is to kill the bastard who has signed a deal with the devil and controls an army of his demons? Yeah, we are so going to live to see Earth again.”
“I wouldn’t quite say…” scratching his head while mumbling about hearing that “devil” word before. “I know how to survive this. Easy, all that matters,” tapping on his abs.
“Guess we’ll see what Sargent Kelly says. Since we have a demon hunter now.”
“No, just dealt with some.”
“Either way,” sending out a signal from his communicator. A buzz, and it connects. John doesn’t wait for the sergeant to speak before he reveals what happened and the plan, why they should change it. Holding his breath as he waits for Sarge to respond.
There is a long pause before the man speaks. A sharp sigh prepares the listening men to pay attention when he says, “I need some information about this mysterious fellow. We do not have a reason to act because of baseless speculation. Give me some facts, marine. Who is he? Where did he come from? What can he do?”
“Well…” giving the basics as the other paces the space.
“I see nothing that explains why we should listen at all. Get the transmission card and follow the original order.”
“Bullshit!” yells the Slayer, ripping out the earpiece to chastise the superior. “I understand more than you. You are hiding. We are doing everything. My experience is as Davoth’s warrior. I’ve faced demons before you, you ever encountered one. Know their ruler. Listen or die.”
There is a long pause before the one on the other end answers. His voice tight, he hisses, “Fine, you can follow the actual marine and speak with me. I shall be the final say on this after you prove the information is valid. Nobody is to do anything else before that! I will meet you both at CPU. Do not get distracted.”
“Whatever,” ending the link to toss the communicator back to John. A snort of disgust at the conversation as he turns to glare at the door.
“What the fuck was that about?”
“What about?” turning around to raise a brow.
“Everything you told Sarge.”
“The truth. This is complex. Need to be smart here.”
“What do you know about the leader?”
“Evil, cunning, focused. Wants revenge.”
“What did you do to face his wrath?”
“Nothing. Used to pay a debt. Mine owed him.”
The man nods, unsure if he wishes to understand the politics behind that right now. It was just proof to the corporal he had some experience with the enemy, and this could be an advantage later. But it can't hurt to ask for more information while it's safe... Any insight to a new foe was invaluable right now. More so when they share a common goal.
“Sounds fun…” John says, scratching his chin. "Sounds like a real amusing fellow."
“Just don’t piss him off. You’ll regret that,” staring at his hand before blinking and looking at John again. “Sorry…” taking a few steps around the space.
“Nah, you’re good. We could stop,” touching a shoulder when the other flinches and lets out a growl. Pulling the arm back, he adds, “Yeah, my bad. Not there yet,” glancing at the door as he thinks of the best way to backtrack.
“And you never will. Not if I can help it.”
John shrinks away when the Slayer gets very close. Face-to-face once more, his heart races when he sees the massive man’s eyes burn like blue flames. Then finding them nose to nose when he doesn’t speak. The man frozen when so confined by something that makes a demon turn and run. The thunder of heartbeats pounding on his eardrums when he steps back and finds a wall, holding his breath to not make the wrong noise.
“Do you understand?” hisses the Slayer. “I won’t keep you. No one so puny uses me. Not if I get to choose.”
“Yeah, hear you crystal clear,” lifting both hands to ball into fists. Only to hit the one thing he had not wanted to touch. The cold of the stone in the other man’s collar having both stiffen while the warning repeats in John’s head.
What did the guy mean when he said this was keeping them safe? What did the thing do? Would it hurt when he found out…?
The Slayer, for just a split second, twists his face into something created out of pure fury, his entire posture saying he would murder the hunched-over marine.
Then the collared marine stops. The expression in seconds softens into one much calmer, his shoulders falling as he steps back. A chuckle makes a smile grow on his lips, this one looking more natural. The atmosphere in moments harmonious.
“Slayer…?” John whispers, staying in a defensive position.
Said man shushes any questions with a finger and a hum, hunger showing in his eyes. Then he closes the distance again to run a hand over the curves of the other’s armor. A sound of approval at the outfit as he explores every inch of the front.
“What are—” cut off when the fingers find the metal over his crotch, following the piece between his legs.
Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!
This has the corporal push the assaulter away, both hands on the wide chest to try, and fail, at gaining some space. The warrior only laughs in response and traces the bulge of this new cock, smiling when he finds something he likes and cups the member. A purr heard as he seems to come impossibly closer.
“Slayer, please,” John tries to plead, any resistance about as effective as pushing away a wall. “Say what you want, and I will do what I can. Sarge has power and would get stuff. Has the power to get more than me.”
“Hmmm, he should have a turn. But you touched the stone… Fuck me how you like. I am all yours first.”
What the fuck?
John whips his head to see there is no hint of joking or irony in the Slayer’s expression. The slim chance of this being anything but serious is gone when he lets out a sound, and the other tilts his chin to have their gazes meet.
A fast open and shut of his mouth, John searches for answers to why this is happening. No clue found when he says, “I do not need this. If you don’t, then—” a large finger silencing him a third time.
The Slayer speaks in a low tone, his hand leaving the cock to rub the other's taint. “No, I do. That is why I am here. That is my real purpose. I want to come. My hole needs your seed in it. What else should a breeder, breeder do? What else do you need?” a light push on the soft flesh earning him a sharp exhale.
“But you aren’t. You called yourself a marine. I think that is more import—”
“I crave cock,” getting down on his knees to inspect the crotch of the corporal’s armor.
What is going on? Is this supposed to keep him from attacking a team? It was effective, but what is the real advantage? And how far would he go in such a state? There is no control over him. Not really.
“What do you want?” whimpers the Slayer, interrupting the man’s thoughts. A slight frown turning into something like a pout when resting a cheek on John’s thigh to stare from this lowly position.
“For you to stop.”
“Why? I can give you… anything. Please, I am a good breeder. You can be rough. Nothing is off-limits.”
“I want to get out of here and see home again. Fucking won’t help.” With a rough push, the warrior falls backward onto his ass.
Though as the Slayer blinks, he looks more confused than hurt, standing as he shakes his head. “I understand…” The words are heavy and desperate, dropping on both like boulders when it echoes in the room. His eyes wide when he looms over again. The smile returning to his quivering lips as he shakes. A rugged breath making the apology hard to decipher despite it being only one word: Sorry.
John tilts his head at the reaction, watching a hand rise.
A sharp gasp bursts from his lips when it wraps around his neck to drag forward. Trembling when the other fist takes his hands and holds them in a painful grip. Unable to fight back when his captor turns and walks deeper inside the facility; into the darkness that covers everything like a thick blanket.
There is not much that can be done about the tight restraints when he cannot see. The bigger warrior unyielding no matter what is said, the painful hold only tightens when he struggles. A plea to end this unheard when the cold black makes his words echo louder on deaf ears. The hiss of a demon and red eyes shutting him up as they pass a watching zombie. The uncaring undead creature groaning when its pushed aside, the next door opening for them to continue.
Several doors open before they stop in a barely lit room, and he gets tossed to the ground. Hitting the hard floor with a grunt, he feels a hand push him against a wall when the loud note of a zipper comes from below. A hitch in the corporal’s breath when both hands hold his legs and pry them wide open.
Then gasping when something warm wraps around his cock. His arms swing to strike the Slayer when he pulls the shaft out, hitting everywhere he can make contact. The target chuckles at the abuse, fisting the base in response.
The corporal screams to let go, grabbing the hand on his dick. His breathing speeds up, his entire body alert. Eyes wide when he yells to make it stop, almost losing it as his strength is not enough. The grip on the wrist pointless when he cannot even break the skin. A grunt heard when the fingers do not budge.
The warrior ignores the sounds to stroke the length. No matter how brutally John fights or yells, it doesn’t disrupt the fingers from jerking him off. The rush of blood to his dick is unavoidable. The hand is too deft for such a burly person. These strokes like a well-built machine in getting him panting and hard without issue. The need to resist slipping away just as fast. A visceral pang at the realization goes right to the gut when his eyes adjust to see this ally in the weak light. Disgust filling him when seeing his partner is too far gone when he opens his mouth.
The cries to quit end with the first moan, a hot wet hole now around the head to lick and kiss the slit. Both groan as it goes lower, deeper; the Slayer swallowing the entire length in no time. The way his eye scrunches up when he beams and pulls off showing he loves this.
John covers his eyes, a hand hovering over his gun when the other notices.
“Do you like that? Wanna fuck me with the barrel?” he whispers, grabbing the arm to suck on a couple of fingers. The sloppy sounds make John shiver as the tongue treats them the same as his cock. Eager with every pass over the digits, the warrior ensures everything is slick with spit. More leaks down the palm and the corporal’s pants while he shudders. The tips wet with drool, they slip out to have thick drops hit the floor. The Slayer then whispers, “Had a hell razer do that. Almost came in seconds. Did when Davoth found me. Shit, I was raw. But he made it impossible to, to, to walk.”
“Just stop! Let me go, and I will forget this ever happened. And I don’t want to shoot you. We have to get out of here and off this planet.”
“Won’t work, anyway. Survived worse when fucking.” A flash of pain goes across his face before he resumes the attack on the erection with pure need. Moans and slurps seem to distract the man as he treats this like his sworn duty, his lips working the throbbing cock.
A fist pumps the shaft when he catches his breath and licks the spit off his chin. Long swipes over the long vein lead to him continuing with a gag, closing his eyes when slow bobs get a groan from the watching marine. His cheeks suck in to earn another, louder noise as he works faster at worshiping the manhood. A hand fisting his hair met with glee while John yanks on the locks, pulling harder until the Slayer comes off with a laugh to kiss the head. Then going back down to devour this corporal.
No… So fucking… close.
John almost makes a sound when he slaps a palm over his mouth, the first ropes shooting down the hot hole to get eagerly swallowed. His eyes rolling up into his skull when the lips only squeeze tighter and his glans get forced down the warrior’s throat. The goal of getting him sucked dry a success when he slumps against the wall. Green irises meet blue when the Slayer sits up and wipes his chin, sticking out his tongue to prove he had no problem lapping up every drop.
Then he grabs the waistband of his pants, whispering how different the other man tasted to most he serviced. A throb of his cock causing both to look at the now massive bulge John had not seen before despite the tight clothing. The mound gone, replaced with a mountain of manhood. The stretched fabric coming down to show off the thick bush underneath.
A chill goes down the corporal’s spine when he learns how correct he was about this marine. Various words for 'huge' and how his ass would end up ruined the only thoughts when the front stretches around the base. A quick reveal brings more into view, showing a large shaft and enormous balls. The sheer size of the hilt alone when not even half hard a sight to behold.
John can only shudder when the clothing gets ripped off to prove that this one could tear his asshole from top to taint. So much fucking bigger, the Slayer might as well say he has some elephant or something in his family when the manhood looms over, eclipsing the smaller shaft as it drips onto the softening glans. More leaking out to get the smaller girth wet when a fist holds the base and the lustful man plays with the head.
While he bites his lip, the Slayer hurries to get the other man aroused again, jerking both off with a purr. Never breaking eye contact as the pair breathe heavily, each shake for different reasons in the icy darkness. Their sides heaving as they pant and groan, as if tempting something to jump them.
But that never happens as the hands leave two hard cocks and quaking shoulders, the Slayer fondling his balls as he enjoys the fruits of his efforts. John looks again at his weapons. A single look at the pistol telling how slim his options have become.
The Slayer laughs at this, saying the offer is still available. But John isn’t interested, whipping it out to point at the unarmored chest. The barrel lined up with his target’s rib cage.
“I realize this is not under your control… I hope,” he says. “But if you do not back off, I will blow a fucking hole in your heart!”
“This is what I am for. The collar gifted me this. Davoth loves it. So does everyone else.”
“You said that guy was bad, but holy shit. Slayer, that is not right. Why would you let anyone treat you like that? Is that what you want? Does your boss know why you wear that?”
“Yes,” grabbing the gun to rip away and chuck into the shadows. “I am a good breeder. This is my purpose. You fuck me. I get come. Nothing more. Unless…”
“No—”
The Slayer frowns for only a moment. Then he shakes his head and cups John’s chin, leaning in to grab the green armor and destroy it. The hands make quick work of the protection, ripping off pieces with little effort. The clang of metal on metal is like a beacon for demons to find their location as the corporal freezes. Now knowing that no matter what, he is fucked as he sees how powerful this guy is. The last of the under-layer torn off his torso to show the black shirt underneath. A hand reaching for that next.
John can only shiver when the other strips him naked. Forced to watch as he is further humiliated, all of him on display. His body lays bare for the lustful Slayer to stare at with a hungry smile. Soft words asking what had to be done to please the corporal. The words John wishes to speak dying on his tongue as he knows its all pointless. A groan comes out instead, giving the other nothing to use against him.
A gentle kiss on the lips then distracts him long enough to be pushed onto the floor. The touch kind, it is almost enough to pretend he wants this when they part. His gaze locks on the ceiling, staring at nothing while two large hands fetter his wrists, and a weight rests on his crotch. A shudder rocks their linked bodies as the Slayer leaks pre-cum on his stomach, making him shift to a specific spot above. A slow blink having him forget anything else for just a moment. The man on top sliding down to beam at the work he did, admiring their rock-hard dicks again. The shift snapping his captive back to reality.
“Don’t do this,” hisses John, the threat not as strong as before and with less bite in the words. “Don’t! You won’t fit.”
“Shhh, you’ll fit inside,” grinning as he raises his ass.
The promise proves itself true as the helpless man can only watch the Slayer line up his hole with the head and sink down with a satisfied groan. Both watching the shaft impale his guts as he sinks to the base and leans forward.
“I told you,” the warrior hisses, lifting off to do that again. “You can fuck me however… however you like.” A third stab causing the hands to release the corporal and rest beside his face.
John can’t speak when the Slayer rides his cock. At first slow, they both moan as he speeds up, and sparks shoot up their spines. The ass is too perfect for what is going on. This pleasure almost a smack to the face.
No, it shouldn't... Why did he want this? This isn't right...
The corporal places his hands on the broad chest, the bouncing mounds squished as he tries to push the massive frame off. His arms pulling away with a shout when he feels a warmth on his palms, looking up to see the warrior drool as the hole clamps down. The squeezing rim a second hand pleasuring him from the inside, and he bucks his hips out of instinct.
The Slayer howls as he lifts his face to the ceiling. Going faster as he grabs John’s hands and makes the corporal grip his thighs. The limbs held in place as he grows flush and his pecs try to fly off, the pair jumping like the massive glans between his legs. The immense balls all the other needs to see for his heart to drop into his gut when the moans grow louder. The fat ass massages his cock, molding around the girth and turning into a personalized fucktoy.
Oh fuck…
Neither last when the Slayer touches himself, riding the man faster. What disgust John had for the situation does nothing to prevent his dick from reacting as it should. The shaft throbbing so hard the other chuckles, sliding off to give a few strokes before slamming all the way down. Little left to hold either back when they groan in unison.
The warrior yells with his orgasm and clamps down with a grip to rival his fist. The tight hole and wild motions are the perfect combination to find release. Ragged breathing making his entire frame jolt when the first rope spills on his current partner. Come ejaculates all over them both, painting their bodies in white. And ruining what resistance John has as he digs in his nails and shoots deep into the tunnel. His mind blank when he cannot hold back and coats the tunnel with jizz.
The fresh load has the Slayer stop to shudder with every pulse of the shaft, a small bounce all he needs for more to spill inside. A drunken smile twists his lips as he lets out a moan, then chuckles at the face the man makes below. Watching how revulsion contorts the expression. Then his head rolls to the side as his hole releases its death grip on the softening cock, the harsh hold on the thick thighs loosened. The fingers sliding off, letting him lift off and sit on the floor nearby. The warm orgasm leaking out when John sits up and glares, baring his teeth as he slides back.
The Slayer frowns and asks, “What’s wrong? Was that not good? Should I—”
“No, you will do nothing! Get away from me,” no longer caring if he yells. Let the demons come. He would love to kill them all instead of dealing with this.
“If you want…” on his hands and knees as he leans in for a kiss.
“Don’t touch me,” yelling as he strikes the man across the face. Another hit begins a frenzy of punches, hitting the collar a few times as his hand stings, and the target lets it happen. A final blow has an actual effect as he smacks the stone. His knuckles exploding with pain when it whips back, and he hears a groan.
Then the sounds stop when the Slayer backs off, his face twisting in the same expression of anger for a moment. A sound of confusion heard as both pause, each staring at the other’s naked body.
“Oh, no…” gasps the Slayer, looking around the room until he finds his leggings to slip on. “Are you okay? What I did… Fuck… Why? Why? Please... What you saw... That was...wrong.”
“Are you done?” snaps John, groaning as he sits up and pulls on his pants. No amount of warning was enough to prepare for this change in attitude, or what he would be doing a good job of forgetting. If he could just... The come drying on his cock was better than what caused that. Never again…
“Are you okay?” the Slayer asks instead, coming closer. Stopping when he sees the man flinch. “I am sorry. The stone. That was not me doing this. I have no control.”
“What is the point of that!” he yells back. “Why would that be the function?”
“Makes it easier to handle me. Like that.”
“Right…”
“I want sex under its influence. Most just fuck and leave. Do what they wish. It’s all I crave.”
“That does not explain the reason why.”
“I’m under control that way. Agree to bad promises for relief. Gets used against me when sane. Though most only use me. Am a good fuck. Or fucktoy.” He touches his stomach and looks at the floor, his eyes glazing over as he lets the hand drop to the side. "Either way, I stay in line."
“Yeah, I hear that a lot from plenty of marines,” fixing his shirt as he stares at the destroyed armor. A few blinks, and he turns away, rubbing his face as he shakes, not in the mood for much talk. “Listen, I’m tired. Let me close my eyes for a minute and sleep. I won't... don't care about excuses. We need to get out of here. Got that?”
“I mean it. I am sorry,” tapping a finger on the floor.
“And this conversation is over,” standing to move the now scrap metal armor outside the room. Once the space is clean, saying, “We should rest for a while and find more supplies. Continue moving after.”
“Go ahead, I’ll keep watch.”
“Why?”
“Don’t need sleep. Didn’t get drained.”
“Fine, but if you try shit because a demon comes around, I will shoot. The same goes for if I wake up for no good reason.”
“I’m quiet…”
“Great, because I am a light sleeper.” Picking up his shirt, John rolls it into a makeshift pillow and lays down. On his back to stare at the ceiling, quiet to listen for any movement beyond the door. His hands clasped over his chest, he glances at the Slayer, who is so far honest about his volume as he remains absolutely quiet.
As the lull covers the room in a heavy blanket, he gets more comfortable underneath. Arms folded over his chest, he closes his eyes and sighs. Next, rolling onto his side to face the door. The watching man still silent as John lets the calm take him, sinking into a restless slumber. The distant calls of demons and failing systems background noises as he takes whatever reprieve that can be found. Sleep snatching him into the dark abyss of dreamless slumber before he can resist.
Notes:
Well, as always, I love to hear from readers if you have any feedback, general comments, or suggestions. The demons hunger for a good marine fucking, and now I have given them a second cake to feast upon.
Chapter 2: Hilt Deep In Slayer
Summary:
Previous mistakes lead to many important revelations, and the Slayer gets a proper introduction to the unique demons that reside in this UAC Mars base.
Notes:
I forgot to say this on the previous chapter, but probably should now. While the Doom 3 protagonist does not have a cannon name—just like every Doom marine—the D3 novels have someone in the same role whose name I used instead. Yes, while I am sure someone would love to see me lose my mind trying to make sure you could tell who was who without using a proper name, that was not going to happen. Luckily, this guy does not get stripped of rank like in the books. We'll see about the rest of the plot lines...
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The Slayer sticks close to the doorway as he rests. Both arms crossed over his lap, he watches this new man. His eyelids are heavy, but he knows it’s more disgust than fatigue from staring at a sleeping John. The need to close his eyes and mute the aftershock of what he had done grows stronger every second. A look around the dark space causes him to smell sex, a flash of lust-filled memories having him shiver.
A set of footsteps has the warrior push his back against the wall, the door opening for a creature to walk inside and stare at the slumbering man. Low clicks coming from a twisted mouth as it stares at his prone body.
The Slayer sees it is almost humanoid in appearance, but impossible to mistake for an actual human from the first glance. The hunched form pale like the zombies they passed before, it has some color under the skin covering most of the demon. All four limbs and most of the head instead covered in scales, it has animalistic legs that only bend like a human, while the feet have three long claws. The arms have two elbow joints, both folded to show off the single claw at the end.
The monster takes a step inside when the Slayer coughs. It whips its head to reveal wide yellow eyes among the scales that decorate the top half of its skull. All the mandibles in its mouth are on display when it opens them to screech or hiss or something. That disturbance gets cut off when it sees him frown and furrow his brows. The entire hole snapped shut at the expression. Then the irises turn red for a moment. A blink having it glance at the other man and hunch over, showing its disapproval with a glare at the one barring its progress.
“Leave, or I will kill you. Davoth won’t stop me.”
The demon lifts a claw to the man’s face, but when he doesn’t react, it exits. A low sound all he hears when it scampers down the hallway.
The way shuts as the Slayer stands and steps closer, examining the survivor for a clue. There had to be a reason this man lasted longer than anyone else. A special skill or gift that would allow such luck. A spell for someone who didn’t have any remarkable power or prowess for battle. He couldn’t be stronger than any of the rebels from the other UAC base. No one survived by the time he got there—except that robot…
No, there had to be a better reason than him having metal under his skin. Why else would Davoth let them both remain unharmed? All that the oracle ritual revealed has come true, even if he has no more answers. This recent addition was of use to the lord of Hell somehow.
But this new fighter did not differ from the many he had fought with before, albeit less battle worn. His calm face in slumber was a pleasant break from the endless line of demons and Davoth’s followers waiting for him to do the same. A glance at his bare torso showing at least he would stand on his own in a fight, as expected for someone surviving Hell's forces. Though the slow rise and fall of his chest causes the Slayer to stare for far too long. Shifting his gaze to see the rest of this one was sturdy. His muscular arms and square jaw were far more pleasing to the other man's eyes than the tall marauders that shared the same type of build. A last glimpse at his pants proving the warrior had nothing to worry about… Yet.
A flinch from John has the Slayer come closer. With a held breath, he leans in, again watching the smaller body twitch, muscles tensing and limbs slicing the air. A soft moan heard from frowning lips as his eyes snap open and he stares at the ceiling. A groan escaping before he closes them once more. The Slayer staring as he grumbles and calms down, curling up with his makeshift pillow. The quiet returns soon after, signaling to him the outburst ended. Only the sound of soft breathing and the occasional grunt heard as the conscious marine waits.
When he hears nothing for a long minute, the Slayer sighs and stands without making a noise. With a shrug, he turns his back to John and investigates the area. His eyes on a flashing light from a computer, he goes over to play with the buttons until it turns on. The soft blue glow of the operating system leads to a file program; doing his best to have the portal allow access. Quick to find that this would require a PDA—whatever that was. A look at a glowing orange square by the keyboard shows where it should go, blinking arrows prompting him to begin.
What kind of system are they running? There had to be so many issues with such lax security. No wonder this UAC got taken over. Anyone could have let Davoth take over and the demons roam free. No bio metrics or even a password? Just a single thing that doesn't even need to be scanned? What a joke.
But there is not much he can do in this situation without a device, so he shuts off the machine. Another scan of the room leads him to a cabinet, again lacking something vital. Upon closer inspection, he discovers this place could keep supplies locked up, unlike all the guns littering the halls. A touch screen saying this was a storage locker as a number pad waits for the right code. A few random attempts doing, no surprise, nothing. Then, trying a few more as he looks at the barrier blocking his search. He had to know what was inside.
After one last round of haphazard numbers, he shrugs. The man knows a method that has never failed before. A hand already reaching for the door, he curls the bottom in and uses this as a handle, forcing the locker to yield with a groan. With a little effort, he soon has the whole thing open to take stock of his rewards. Then growling when he finds there is nothing of worth inside. Just a few small clips and a medical kit that would do nothing for him. He looks around for another doorway or touchpad, something that showed there was more. Something of importance to them both.
Maybe he could use the parts for modifications? Some of these computers had to be beneficial if he could get past the minor issue of the missing piece. Now what would be usable?
A tired moan has the Slayer straighten a while later as he removes a chip. He perks his ears to the sound, but it doesn’t stop him from ripping out a fistful of wires. Turning when he hears a yawn, he sees John sit up and fix some loose locks. Then watches as the other man raises a brow and looks at the torn-out pieces of the gutted cabinet; John sighing when he discovers the tossed-aside ammo and medicine.
“Do I want to know?” John asks, unrolling his shirt to put it on.
The Slayer nods and points to the computer. “Wanted access to computers. Needed a PDA? Was about to make a… workaround.”
“So instead of asking me to find one, you were going to alter some low-end hardware. To run on a high-end machine? I have a PDA here,” pulling out a black square device that lights up to show a menu on the small screen. “All you had to do was ask, and I could tell you this would not work. Not unless we had the right person’s files. Clearance and security and all that.”
“How do you stop someone… from taking advantage of that?”
“Never really thought about it if I'm being honest. Maybe if you have a traitor to just give it up? But that would be the case no matter the security.”
“Hmm, doesn't make it any better.”
“Not like we ever had a chance. I was here twenty minutes and on my first assignment. They invaded and killed a bunch before I connected with Sarge a while later. The rest were dead when I received any instructions. All I know is we must get off this planet. No one and no demon will stop me. No matter what appears.”
“Good, should keep you alive.”
“How did you last so long?”
“I’ve destroyed countless enemies. Slain world leaders. They recognize my rank,” raising a fist.
“What about that thing you said before? That your only purpose was to be a breeder? Did it have to do with being used with the collar? Were they related?” The man looks more concerned than nosy when he asks, looking at the red stone as if this would offer any answers.
The Slayer doesn’t answer while his entire body slumps, his heart racing as he learns he fucked up everything. The man had remembered… His frown deepens as he mentally slaps himself for getting too close. One horrific mistake when weak had destroyed the single wall to ensure the other trusted him.
John grits his teeth and slams his hand on the ground. “I know what the silence means. Means I am right about something, but someone wants me to shut up. Bad news for you, I am not a subordinate! I’m of equal standing. There is nothing you can do to keep me from asking questions. Now tell me what I need to understand, or I am leaving to grab that card. I’ll take my chances with more manpower over lies and ignorance.”
The Slayer glances at the door before facing his—likely former—ally. The one person who showed an ounce of respect was pissed and ready to split up. And he was not interested in finding out how this might become worse by letting John go. All he wanted to do was… No, he would never know peace if the lord forever trapped him with the fucking collar.
A sound of anger is so close to escaping when he takes a deep breath and speaks. “That is my payment to Davoth… their leader. I am a breeder. He uses the stone... for pleasure and future heirs. Whenever he wants.”
“Oh…” his entire posture shifting, deflating at the news. “And your boss was okay with that? How could he be fine with any of this? What kind of debt is this paying? Was he tricked or something?”
Again, he is quiet for a minute, knowing that this will go one of two very different directions. At last, whispering, “He is my leader. He is the ruler who dropped me here.”
“I’m sorry?” blinking as he leans in, as if to hear better. “Did you just say you work for the sick fuck who sent literal demons to kill everyone here? Am I hearing that right?”
“It was never a choice. Wasn’t told until. After the deal was done.”
“And why should I believe you?” machine gun in hand. “Talk, now.”
“It’s a long story,” telling what he can remember from when he freed the lord from his life sphere, only stopping after the third heir and their meetup. A silence falling over the pair as John sighs and examines his supplies with shaking hands.
“So what, I’m only here because of a whim? We are both in this fucking nightmare because you got tricked and now have a working womb? What kind of shit— Lucifer is having fun in Hell,” pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Never met that demon…”
“Nevermind that. Same guy as Satan, same as all the other names. Just tell me why I should call you a liar, but cannot. Because honestly, I’m not sure which is worse. The demons are real either way. Not like anything makes sense anymore… Or I have a choice if I want to live.”
The Slayer frowns at this last sentence, coming closer to see the other waver. “I don’t want that. Death is not the answer.”
“Don’t you fucking give the life-worth-living suicide talk,” shoving a finger in the man’s face.
“I’m not. I want you to live because… you might turn into a zombie. Like all the ones here. He will desecrate you. You will become a puppet.”
“So what do we do then? Are we just tools for this fucker? Was there ever an escape? Where does this end?” a defeated sigh going well with his slumped posture. “Tell me one thing. You won’t stab me in the back. Or you will be dead before that bastard can save you.”
“I’ll try…” staring as the other peers at the exit with an exhausted expression. “You serve a purpose. Use it to your advantage. Do not be bold. You get better outcomes that way.”
“Guess some things don’t change. Maybe I could do well this time,” turning back to set his gaze on the Slayer’s abdomen.
The warrior covers his stomach with his hands and stands. “If you’re rested… Let’s find fresh supplies.”
“Hmm, just like my cousin when she was showing… never stopped touching her belly.” He blinks and gets to his feet too. “Yeah, there should be more ammo in the storage space. I hope.”
Neither would say the search for more stuff is exciting. Once they can navigate past the pitch-black halls and locate a lift, they find more things on the many shelves by the reactors deep in the building. The pair’s arms overloaded when John sits a short distance from the door, sorting the equipment. Each quiet as feet hurry by in another room, ignoring the speakers as they blast a message about rising temperatures in a reactor.
Not a word is said as they continue and find themselves on the surface, full air tanks around for John as they follow the map for a nearby service station. The corporal tense when they sprint over the surface, the Slayer remains unaffected when on the path between buildings. With a shrug, he takes a sharp turn as he asks what else the man can do as a distraction. A grunt the only response, the warrior watches the red skies, seeing it’s the same as the other version of this planet. A jump down a cliff side and between a broken land bridge leading them to a set of doors.
The airlock slams shut as they walk into a garage area, noting a few vehicles are still intact. But once John removes his mask, they sprint past them instead, the scuttle of creatures in the blackness and crimson eyes their only company. A few shots in the dark from John hit a demon when it gets too close, keeping him alert. A whisper to not stop moving as he reloads his weapons.
“Are you okay?” the Slayer asks, watching a two-headed demon crawl out of the wall to scamper for a hole in the floor. “Were you hurt?”
“Nah. No worse than before,” glancing around the room. “The whispers are getting quiet again.”
“Right…”
“I’m still able enough to kill you, if that matters.”
The Slayer laughs. A genuine laugh echoes in the dark halls as the warrior almost howls, making his lips curl into a more natural smile. The harsh lines soften as he forces the muscles into such a rare position. A stare from the man who spoke having him wipe a tear from his eye and sigh, placing a hand on John's shoulder.
And said man raises a brow in return. “What’s the joke here?”
“Happy to hear that. We both have a chance. Certain now.”
“Strong reaction for that line.”
“Been too long since I could,” making their way to the elevator that would take them higher, once more seeing Mars through thick glass.
John stops as they enter a room lined with computers. An unfocused stare at the world outside as his arms fall to the side. Then his face contorts, eyes wide and mouth open as if screaming. Breathing hard as his hands shake, he retreats from the window and falls to the ground. The Slayer whipping his head to see what could cause this severe reaction.
But there is nothing, only the bleak surface seen as a flying brown ball with an immense maw floats past. Again looking at the scared man, he is just in time to witness his ass hit the floor with a grunt.
The hard fall snaps John out of the trance to look around, gasping for air.
“Hey,” says the Slayer, stepping closer when the crackle of electricity has them both turn to the source.
The men stare at the odd portal that appears, seeing that it needs two circles to work. After what feels like forever, something steps out, a large demon coming into view. The Slayer only braces when he sees sickly gray flesh and ten eyes. Both fists raised to fight when it opens its boney mouth and the dried skin around its missing lips crinkle. Each stepping forward before it drops down to all fours and rushes the pair.
This the warrior’s cue to attack, he sprints toward his target. A fireball not slowing him down when he dodges and grabs it by the throat, slamming it into a wall. A sound of surprise at his speed, the demon screeches just like the imps in Immora. Or it seems close enough when he shouts in its face while it stares back and hisses, fighting the hold without actually hitting him.
“What are you doing? Should I kill you?” he asks, squeezing the neck tighter.
It shakes its head, screeching as it struggles harder.
“Too—”
“Slayer,” yells John, gunfire coming from behind.
The man turns to see another has arrived to attack the corporal, who lights up the room with his weapon. A leap forcing him to duck, avoiding a collision as the demons sails overhead. Flying right for the watching warrior. Its mouth open in a grin when the imp hisses and latches on. Both screaming when he bucks to dislodge the creature.
But it hangs on, long claws around his neck as he yells. More screeches pound his eardrums when a digit hooks under the collar and pulls him to the floor. All three falling to the ground in a heap, a second hand on his throat. A single finger hovering over the stone.
“Get back!” yells John, another burst of gunfire having the two imps hiss in response. Neither getting off when he aims right at their head. “I thought they feared you?”
“No! Only dealt with them. They’re under Davoth’s command, remember?”
“Well, you better tell them to fuck off before I blow their brains out.”
The pair screeches in a way that sounds like laughter, the claw over the stone activating the collar. Both men groaning when the demons turn toward John as they seem to grin. One standing as the other grabs the lust-filled Slayer to beat him.
From the first punch to the gut, the warrior is moaning while the two stand on his body. Both are quick to pin him to the ground as the punches rain down, claws ripping through his skin when he laughs at the pain. A bruising grip on his face, letting a creature smack the dumb grin off of it and leave him stunned for only a second. Then it slams his head against the floor and growls, leaving him there as they approach John. The man does not hesitate to shoot, bringing one down with a well-aimed shot to the skull. A shriek heard as it disintegrates.
The surviving imp acts unfazed by its partner’s death, instead stopping to change directions. This alternative route is revealed when it leaps onto the wall and rushes out of the room, a hellish chant echoing down the hall. The words seem to seep into the air as the Slayer sits up and chuckles, wiping blood from his face. He looks around and sees John act guarded, the gun close to his chest as he backs away. The corporal in a corner as he hisses they would only talk if they stayed far apart. The Slayer frowns and shakes his head, closing some distance until John says it’s hard to fuck without a working dick.
But despite the threat, he moves closer and laughs harder, whispering, “That stops nothing. Not for you to have fun. I can enjoy that. Had parts cut off before. Can be reattached. Later.”
John almost speaks when the imp returns. And this time, it brings more to help deal with the marines. At first, only a few, at least ten come in and surround the men. In a tight circle around the pair, they close in as the corporal stands and aims his machine gun at them. His lips twisted in a snarl as he yells to back off, firing off a couple of shots to have some shrink away.
The Slayer smiles as he stands, and a scaled demon like the one from the other building grabs his waist. A claw digs into his gut to drag him aside, having him writhe from the pain. More shots have several of the monsters pounce as John lets out a yell, knocking him to the ground with a well-aimed hit. Then grunt when a few stomp on his back and pin him to the floor.
Two zombies next unbuckle their belts, and the Slayer yells to not touch the other man. Struggling to escape as a claw hooks on his collar and forces him to watch the former humans tie the man’s wrists and ankles. Both men are subdued when the lead monster hisses, motioning to the rest. John soon gets seated by the doorway where a couple of spider demons stand guard, the upside-down human faces that make up their abdomens keeping watch.
The warrior once more captures the creatures’ full attention with a laugh at the sight. All turning back to stare, he is let go to stumble and catch himself. A chuckle at the countless eyes on him, he ensures all see his waiting cock. A lazy stroke travels along the shaft straining his pants. Soft exhales keep his hand moving at a steady pace, slowly turning to look at each beast.
His entire body awakening when an unmistakable demon approaches and makes this man beam. An arch-vile stepping forward, it inspects Hell’s prized breeder with overzealous fondling. This going on long enough for him to notice that while it had the same shape, this one has fewer spines and lacks a hard exterior. The pale form in a more fleshy frame. Though the same oversized skull, hands, and feet on the tall figure comfort the Slayer when manipulating his face and body. Such rough treatment is all it needs to make him purr at the obvious next step.
Then it turns to the crowd, lifting an arm to have the others create a circle around the man. The wall of demons blocks any distractions as the arch-vile rids him of the skintight pants, tossing the annoyance over a shoulder. Their eyes locked as a hand seizes his throat and chokes the air out of his lungs. The Slayer doing his best to close the distance when it slams him to the ground, his face colliding with the hard surface. On his stomach to taste dirt and blood on his tongue. A sound of pain cut off once long fingers wrench his legs open and it grabs his hips, dragging him closer.
The Slayer almost begs to begin when he gets a wonderful reminder of the demon's virility while looking over a shoulder. A throbbing mound shows that some demons were gifted like a baron, making him whimper. Any words for release dying when the bulge presses on his hole. A slow grind has him see the slit on the creature’s crotch open, a red tip smearing something wet all over the rim. Then the long cock pops out and continues rubbing on his crack, having him reach behind to grab a cheek and spread it wider.
“Please…” the warrior whines, lowering his front half to have his hips sway in the most shameless display he could manage. “I know Davoth wants this…”
This seems to be all the arch-vile needs to hear for it to line up with the hole. A sharp buck enough to breech the docile entrance. The yell that comes out of the Slayer’s mouth when it slams inside echoing throughout the room. His throat tightening when the warrior sees this cock’s size was not wishful thinking, ripping him open from the first thrust.
Though the screams that follow cannot be mistaken for anything but bliss when the demon hurries to fuck the tight ass. An unmistakable joy saturates his voice when the long fingers hold him like a fucktoy and climb on top. The slap of flesh causing his cock to swell and rise to the occasion, swinging between his thighs.
The rest seem to sense his arousal and let the sight of the Slayer excite them. Sounds of approval mixing with the fucking pair’s moans, many grabbing their own members to join in the fun. The chorus of purrs and screeches makes the man laugh and stare at the line of cocks on display. The long wet flesh in fists and other bodies when he opens his mouth as an invitation. His tongue flopping out when the arch-vile speeds up and moves its hold to his chest. He groans and shudders, his nerves electric when his tits leak into the palms. What little blood he had in his brain starting its exodus for his cock as he pleads to come. The creature growls at this noise, pulling its arms back to shut him up.
Milk spills on the floor, and his mouth opens to beg for the hands' return. Another demon comes forward instead, on all fours to lap up the mess. A hand on one of its skulls once cleaned, the arm guides the monster to the source. A whisper to enjoy the gift, teeth latch onto a breast. The man biting his lip when it does exactly what it should, and drains him as it feeds.
The moment the first nipple pops into the open lips of the demon, he feels like a thousand fingers stab his prostate at the same time. If not for the weight on his back, his spine would be the ideal arch. This grows tenfold when he sees another set of eyes, and the other head slips under. The second mouth latching on to leave him without a single way to prevent come from shooting all over the floor.
His lips are a perfect O as he moans and his cock pulses, spilling thick ropes everywhere. The seed pours out like a hose, the white painting the ground and himself. A true breeder, his balls empty as if he had not orgasmed today. He might as well have been told to not get off for a week with how his knees are sticky and shake.
The arch-vile roars when his hole clenches down from the powerful orgasm, coming inside to earn a shared groan. The enormous shaft pulsing as it drenches his insides. An impressive load filling the man when the demon pulls out and lets it pour onto the floor, his thighs coated when it stands and leaves.
The suckling demons, at last, unlatch once the obvious leader leaves, standing up to show off the long tongues in both bony red heads. This hunched-over creature retracts both to mumble between the faces, glancing at the Slayer as he tries to sit up. The left face hisses when he’s on hands and knees, using the more human hand to push him down.
The man knows not to resist when it stands on its rear legs and walks with awkward motions to stand behind him. Then it sinks down, an odd nub-like arm on his spine while a pinching claw reaches for his cock. The hard limb brushing on his glans to make him hiss from contact when still overstimulated.
Stopping when a different demon screams and pounds the ground. This one huge like a hell knight, it shakes the floor, and makes the other creature shrink away. Both sets of eyes wide when the functioning hand returns to grab the shaft instead, slowly stroking the girth. A steady pace soon getting the Slayer to cry out, the two tongues return to plunge deep into his hole. The nub next plays with the sac for a full-body experience, making the Slayer part his thighs until he is almost on the floor.
The current creature rewards him with more pleasure. Both slick muscles dive deeper, plundering his ass to find the prostate. The one on the receiving end whimpers when the hand jerking him off proves the demon knew what to do. Another whine as they get him to stay hard like he did not just come minutes ago.
But the rest don’t care about that when they have better things to do. Like how the imp that brought the others steps forward with a hungry stare. A hand cupping his chin, he gasps when it guides him to the pink flesh flopping in front of his face. No words needed to be said when he wraps his lips around the tip to massage.
Or as it grabs his head and gets to work, claiming his mouth with the expected vigor of a demon in need of relief. The animalistic grunts and huffs are all he hears when both ends are out of his control, his throat soon getting a proper fuck as the glans hit the back. The slit deep in his hole as the other side shudders when the eager tongues pull out before he is about to shoot. As if they knew his very being, they pick the perfect second to retreat. His ass emptied for him to grab the one in front and watch with a pleading gaze. The ten eyes that stare back pulling him in as his legs end up in the air and wrapped around a thick waist. A fist yanking him off the imp to breathe when mounted by the first demon.
The fat head shoved in his slick and loosened hole, the smack of skin ensures he becomes lost in the pleasure as both faces babble and hiss. A hand on his neck, he turns to look into a pair of golden eyes as the nub locates his cock. The next thrust has the shaft receive some wonderful friction as he moans and twists in the hold. A smile on his lips when the demon finds this good and has him frotting on the limb while his mouth resumes its work. Not even a moment to prepare before his body is bent and twisted for both’s gratification. Nothing in his control from then on. All his mind cares about now is feeling hot come spilling deep into his holes.
His cheeks suck in and his thighs clench in anticipation. Eyes rolling back in his skull when he gets taken care of just how he likes. Head spinning and arms shaking when they give a fitting reaction and show this is his place, claws raking down his spine and sides. A sound vibrates on the cock hilt deep in the Slayer’s throat as a response. Blood painting his side as the two-faced demon lets out a loud, ear-splitting wail.
The man gags on the other demon’s dick in surprise. Then he stiffens as the warm seed adds to what the arch-vile gifted him. His gut expanded as the girth stretching his ass seems to drown the first orgasm.
If the other had wanted him bred, this creature was much better at succeeding. Not a single inch of his hole was free of come when this one pulls out and the load coats the floor and his shins.
The other demon sees this and doesn’t last much longer. From the moment his ass got marked and the smell of sex reaches its nostrils, it perks up and slides its hand to the back of his skull. What before was just a rough blowjob turns into a full face fuck that has him drooling and gagging. Fighting to not choke on the brutal bucks into his throat.
The harsh stabs make him want to scream out in pain and beg for more. Spit and snot do little to ease this ache as his cock throbs and he tightens the grip on the demon’s legs. Next, arching his spine more, so the group sees his messy hole. Eyes squeezed shut when the tears fall down his face and mix with the rest of the mess dribbling down his chin.
But that hardly matters when the first rope shoots down his throat. From the initial pulse spilling the reward into his stomach, the Slayer focuses on this demon. Soon opening an eye to behold the sight of the pleased creature when its mouth hangs open with hard breathing. A lazy thrust grinding the girth on his tongue as more hits the waiting muscle to swallow with the rest.
Relishing in this honor gets him to take over and wash the length, licking the slit clean for the demon before it rips him off and slaps his cheek. A rough push having the warrior on his back, stunned. The shame he feels disappears as two more each grab an end, and he notices John still tied up in the corner. A smug grin on the Slayer's face as they sit the warrior up. He wants to ask how it feels to be ignored when long claws finger his defiled hole. A wide eye stare and parted lips on John so obviously envy, he sees the other man shake with need as he retreats and glances at the glaring arch-vile and spider demons by his side. The Slayer laughing while a zombie in a marine uniform unbuckles its belt and lets an impressive cock flop out. The shaft in his fist, it leans on his shoulder while he pleasures the entire length, smiling at the nice erection the creature has.
Though a taste of the leaking slit makes him forget all about the tied-up man when he gets to work, groaning when filled wholly. The slap of flesh and grunts from his users are all that consumes his mind while dirtying both breasts in jizz. A mix of human and demon seed painting his tits in the warmth when he’s given a good smack on the ass. The handprint marking where to knead the globes when the next one focuses on getting off. Still earning a few excellent screams out of the warrior when he begs all to make him a come vessel; bouncing on a dick while a fist controls him with the collar. Howling in ecstasy when they obey his crazed orders. Head thrown back to tell the entire planet he is an eager breeder as the member coats his hole with more.
Again, he looks at the other man with a smirk, hearing him grunt with unmistakable lust. Still on the floor, he sees John fight his restraints when the arch-vile grabs an arm and drags him to the opposite door. A growl at the gawking warrior, it uses another belt to tie the other marine to a door handle. The watching demons and their toy cheer as the Slayer rides faster, telling all to use him how they like.
If John wants to be a jealous bastard, he would make the man burn with envy.
The mob closes in to see just how much he could take. And the man laughs at the circle of leaking slits until they shut him up with a cock in every hole and hand. Now too busy to do more than his duty, no demon is left without attention.
What kind of breeder would he be if he couldn’t do that?
But by the end, the Slayer couldn’t move if he wanted. His entire frame soaked in come, hair sticks to his forehead, and an eye got glued shut with someone's jizz. Any energy gone, he can’t even flinch when a zombie grabs an arm and flips him over for a bucket of purple water to pour on his body. A gasp when it splashes over his dirty skin. He sees them lift another, this one dousing his face. The liquid and other fluids pooling around him, his flesh feels less sticky when leaned against a wall. A groan at the new position, the man doesn’t resist when his legs part and his head flops to the side. Mouth open to accept another when the arch-vile approaches.
Though it snaps shut when the demon grabs the collar and tosses him over to John’s location. A grunt from both men when he collides with the tied-up corporal, the Slayer tumbles onto the ground. The smaller marine glares at the commander when it bears sharp teeth and motions the rest to follow. With a last look at the pair, the mob leaves their separate ways.
The second they are gone, the Slayer hurries to kneel before John, ripping off the belts. A glance at the welts that decorate the man’s wrists, he takes the smaller hands to caress the marks. A slow lick over one makes John flinch, a sharp pull used to disconnect, averting his gaze.
“What’s the matter?” the Slayer asks, coming closer to place a few quick kisses on the other's cheek. “I realize you wanted some. Saw how you were staring. Now you can…” A hand slips between the corporal's legs, finding the prize he needs.
“Nothing is wrong. Kind of… Kind of. Yeah, just give me a minute. Still sore from being stuck like that so long. Hate that the demons didn’t share. You know how it is.”
“Relax, I’ll take care of this,” unbuckling John's pants belt. "Don't do a thing."
“No!” Then adding when the Slayer frowns, “That is not what I want at all. Nah, you will not lead this time. Do you understand?”
“Yes…” lowering his gaze to the floor as he folds his arms.
“Hey, do not turn away," grabbing the Slayer's wrist. "No… hold on. Close your eyes and put both hands behind your back. I order you to not touch yourself, or me. Got that?”
The warrior grins when he sees the other shift, obeying without hesitation. When he hears a groan, a shudder rushes down his spine as his knees part a little more. A sigh only causes a flood of images of what John had to be doing right now. The ideas getting far more erotic as it sounds as if he was standing over.
Soon a hand touches his chin, and he lifts his face for the fingers to slide down his throat. A hitched breath escapes when it grabs the collar and pulls him forward. Maintaining his position like a good breeder when his head gets yanked to the side.
Something pushes on the front. The sensation that comes right after is unmistakable when his mind gets forced back into reality. The lust washes away like a wave, and the Slayer’s eyes snap open, gasping as he is let go to fall to the ground. A look at the watching marine, he closes his legs and searches the room for his pants. On his feet to run and grab them, pulling the clothing on in record time. A peek over a shoulder, he checks where the other is. A sigh slipping out when he sees the man collecting his weapons, the warrior fixes his waistband.
“You okay?” the Slayer asks, walking over to reexamine the man’s injuries. Nothing serious beyond friction burns, he refrains from commenting on them.
“Yeah, still alive. That’s all that matters.”
“You’re lucky. Last UAC got killed by them. No survivors. Human ones, at least.”
“So happy to be reminded. Come on, we need to keep moving.”
“Sure…” frowning as he watches the corporal lead the way. The lines on his face grow deeper when he notices John avoiding eye contact. Almost saying something when the man refuses to let him get any closer, ensuring they are slowed down.
But John cannot continue this odd behavior when a loud beep comes from his earpiece. A glance around the hall, both lean against the wall as Sargent Kelly yells for both to understand, “Marine, status report! This new plan was your idea, and we need to speak before things get worse.”
“Had an attack stronger than most ambushes, Sir. They swarmed us and we had to fight a bunch off. We’re behind schedule more than anticipated.”
“Yes, the situation is grave here, too. Do not hesitate to use heavy fire and hurry!”
“Yeah…” ending the call with a growl to stand, rushing down the hall again.
The Slayer sighs, hardly putting in the effort to catch up. It’s like when he had the heirs. Such childish behavior was not too motivating for him to pick up the pace. But in less time than he expected, he is at John’s side and sees how his hands shake and eyes dart around the space. The smaller man panting as he stops in the middle of the floor. A soft touch having him flinch then glance at the hand, still not acknowledging the man checking on him.
With another sigh, the Slayer says, “Don’t let this affect you. This is why you are alive.”
John, at last, faces the warrior again, his face twisted in anger as he yells, “Why are you acting like this? How are you not angry about what they did? Does that not disturb you ?”
This has the Slayer pause, blinking as he processes the questions. “I don’t understand…? It’s over. That is done, done, done. We must move on.”
“Do you feel nothing?”
“Happened enough times, can’t dwell. This is better than constant torture. Used over abused. Gives a reason to stay. Stay here instead of in the palace.”
John looks stunned for a second. Then his face becomes blank and his entire posture slumps. The tired bags back, he takes a few deep breaths and whispers, “I am going to kill every single one of them. Those bastards will burn in Hell as they should.”
“Yes, I agree,” chuckling as he sees the man straighten and furrow his brows. “Might have some fun with that. A proper battle is nice. One day…”
“No, not good enough.”
“What?”
“That is not the attitude I want to hear from a marine. We have a mission, and we are going to finish it. This is not over until you can’t ever go back to Hell. We are in this until they all are burning deep underground. Got that?” Something burns in the marine’s eyes as his jaw and fists clench, the other seeing how his muscles tense and he looks bigger. Not a hint of irony in his glare when caressing his machine gun.
The Slayer nods, no words coming to mind that he feels would ever fit. The pure air of knowing so much like when speaking with Davoth, he finds it easier to remain silent instead of disagree. John smiling at his response, he does the same until the other falters and turns away.
Though his grin returns after the corporal taps his arm for them to sprint down the hall. A door opens to enter the next section, the scene a blur as they go. As they run past the windows and the chaos on the surface, the warrior leads while the other orders him to slow down. A glance over his shoulder shows the other marine staying close with effort.
Now seeing that this one didn’t have the stamina as he slows, telling John to keep going as he sees a glare aimed right at him. Again slowing as he takes it easy, just happy that the outburst before had helped the man.
A good ally for sure. There is no reason to mind the strange behavior if they could get off this planet. This far-off goal was all they had.
Nonetheless, he had to wonder if that would ever happen. The luck that followed him was never the kindest, and not without a lot of obstacles. This last demon incident had not ended the streak either. But there wasn’t much he could do except keep going. Either stop and regret, or keep going and hope something goes right.
The next doorway does give some hope when offering clearance, the green light telling the marines to hurry as they take a sharp turn. The dust at their heels when they find the exit, a lit area up ahead.
Notes:
Well, I must say, the demons in this chapter were interesting to deal with when so many are different from the rest of the franchise. I hope the descriptions did the creatures justice, because the imps alone were such a shift from the cuter orange ones that ate the Slayer's ass and come. ✧✧ c( •̀ ω •́ )o ✧
And as always, tell me what you think or if you got any ideas or just got some helpful feedback. All are welcome, and I am always happy to try and include suggestions in the work.
Chapter 3: Two Ways To Pay - Part 1
Summary:
The two marines make their way to Central Processing when they meet a special demon, and John learns how crazy he is from being on Mars.
Notes:
I was going to have this be part of a longer chapter, but it ended up being12.9k, and I hated myself for making it so damn long. So while I could have kept it, this is easier for me and probably most readers to break it. Enjoy the short chapter today, and be ready for the second part tomorrow.
Also, a bonus PSA! Do not let your dog eat grapes or raisins, or you have to take them to the vet immediately. They need to be forced to vomit and have their kidneys cleared to prevent organ failure in under 24 hours. Learned that the hard way, so just passing on the message to others.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“How much farther?” asks the Slayer, John watching him look around as the flashlight flickers.
But instead of an answer, John groans and shakes the light, a string of curses spilling from his lips.
Harsh words tossed at the inventor, the corporal tells the Slayer, “Not much longer, but—” The light shuts off, making them wait for the battery to charge. Once it turns back on, he continues. “There is something that might help us… Somewhere,” searching the area until he locates a yellow box painted on the floor, a gray robot folded up inside.
“What is that?” asks the Slayer, halting behind John.
“A sentry bot. I’ve been looking for this. These things got serious firepower, so should—”
“Let me destroy it. Stay here,” stepping forward when a hand stops him.
“Don’t you dare. We need that thing to help us. The working ones are rare. The demons ruined most in the initial takeover. Which means we must be sure this works so we can get out of here.”
“Why?” walking over to stare while the bot unfolds and beeps. A fist curls at his side when John stands in the way and glares.
“Hey, you heard me, big boy. A live one is better than not. Now…” lifting his pistol when the robot beeps again. It then turns on its flashlight as four spider-like legs have it approach, sharp feet clinking on the floor. The whole thing about the size of a large dog thanks to a machine gun mounted to the body.
A smile at the little bot, he checks the set path and walks forward for it to follow. A wave to the Slayer having him stay a short distance behind, growling a threat of dismemberment to the robot. The other man not missing how wary eyes flick toward the thing as if it might retaliate and gun him down. Which was not the most irrational fear to have after Hell broke loose…
“What’s wrong?” John asks, letting the sentry bot go ahead.
“Are you sure this is safe? What if it attacks?”
“Well, considering the ones that did were ruined or dismantled, and this little fellow is still going? I’m certain the thing will be fine.”
“It’s different from Hayden… And I can kill that again with ease. Prove my caution wrong.”
“That guy really fucked you up, huh?”
“I trust few of its kind. Only one has earned that… I don't care this one... one looks alike.”
“Well, let’s hope for two,” patting an arm as the robot beeps and turns to shine its light on two zombies. Then empties bullets into them until both stop moving.
The thing hardly cares about the obstacles either. The demons dead, it crushes rotting limbs under a foot as the bodies become ash. Then speeds up to gun down more as they stay close to watch the carnage. The Slayer humming as he watches with more interest.
More so when it stands on its own against the larger monsters and he smiles, his face softening as he comes closer. A hand stroking his chin when it gives a beep and turns the corner past a broken pipe spewing steam. The light right after hitting the visage of a scuttling demon and blasts the pair of faces clean off. Another chuckle is all the assurance John needs to check the map and show the other marine, a finger pointing to the exit of this building. Both nodding as they follow the little robot, climbing a flight of stairs to hear a few gunshots. A grunt from a pile of dust letting them go forward.
But the set routes for these bots are limited. Too short to be of more use in this situation. The yellow square to mark the end point in sight, it walks over to its place and takes one last scan before folding up to wait again. A final beep and it is asleep, the link gone.
“Well, how was that?” John asks, putting away the PDA. “Better than most bots you met?”
“It is worth keeping. For now.”
“Best I am getting, huh?”
“I’m glad you were right. This time.”
“Good enough. Baby steps, I guess.”
The Slayer grunts but doesn’t shift his gaze, going toward the exit.
Once they are out of the plant, they head for the building nearby, seeing that they are heading back to Alpha Labs. A slight huff of frustration that they made such slow progress, John finds a spot to sit by the windows and mumbles about different routes.
There had to be a quick or straight path to Central Processing. Two guys couldn’t have this much of an issue finding a fucking computer room…
A low rumble has the men turn. Their eyes falling on the worst sight John wanted to see: a walking skeleton with missile launchers strapped to each shoulder. A growl from the Slayer, he steps forward as the jaws on the thing clack open and it glares back. The pair hunch over as they get ready for a fight, fists clenched and squared shoulders telling all to stay away.
“Slayer, what are you doing?” John asks as he steps back.
“Got a revenant here. Recognize this demon from the technology. Rare sight. Not a welcome one.”
“Know how to stop it?”
“Same as the rest. Shoot until it dies and burns.”
“Right”—pulling out the machine gun—“think I can do that.”
“Good,” rushing the monster with a roar. A leap at the creature with clawed hands having it snap its mouth shut.
Then it launches a missile. The large projectile is all they see when the Slayer is about to grab it by the throat. A yell when the following shot hits him square in the gut. Then out a window and into the dirt. Outside on the surface of Mars.
“Slayer!” hollers John, running to the broken glass to watch the other stand up and shout threats to the monster. “Hold on!”
A look at the revenant, he lifts the barrel when the next missile fires. Rolling out of the way when several more follow. On his knees to shoot, he hits it when more rockets fly for his head.
He drops to the ground, letting off another round as he grits his teeth and yells. A few striking the chest for a clear liquid to gush from the bones.
No, the transparent flesh over its entire torso. A squint helps John see it push on the strange layer as the bony hands cover the holes, and it opens its mouth for the joints to creak.
Just before it lets out a loud scream and runs. The creature has the flames of Hell burning in its veins as it sprints for the marine, eyes a bright red as it sways and swings in all directions. The limbs flail in a fit of anger when it lurches and almost falls to all fours. Right after, being yanked back to its feet like the demon was tied to a string.
Another shriek fills the room when John lifts his machine gun again. The fires of the underworld about to burn his flesh when he pulls the trigger and hits it square in the chest. This battling pair screaming when bone claws strike his face.
The corporal stumbles as he grabs the wound on his temple, clenching his jaw. If that’s how it wants to play... Some blood wiped away, he tosses aside the gun for something far more fitting of his style.
The first punch gives the demon a reason to block as he strikes under the metal contraption it wears. The next blow having the revenant go for the face. And for him to grab the demon by the jaw and send it to the floor. A hand getting rid of more blood from the wound, he spits and grimaces at the creature. Then smiles when the puppet strings return to stand the corpse, his fists raised for a proper fighting stance. A kick to the side earns a scream, seeing the thing had some protection when this feels like the last man he brought down. Hope it’s just as fulfilling...
No, but this is hardly the same situation. That time was special.
A swing in retaliation gets blocked with his forearm, using the momentum to bring his boot to a shin. A twist of the foot has the demon brought to its knees. The pistol pulled out to aim at its head, the barrel right between the eyes.
“I doubt you understand a damn word, but...”—leaning in—“I hope Davoth sees this, so he realizes what’s coming.”
The revenant has its jaws open, the slow creak having him brace to pull the trigger. But then it speaks, the clack of teeth almost muted by the deep voice that comes out. “Don’t worry, mortal... My lord knows you well. This little playtime is nothing compared to the might of his rule.” And as the mouth snaps shut, the room turns crimson, the whispers returning to burrow into his brain.
No...
John freezes as he sees them: the red tentacles that had chased him since this all began. The squirming, pulsing limbs coming closer as he can only stare. Hands shaking, his entire posture stiffens as one grabs a leg and slams him to the ground. A yell to let go as he pulls out the plasma rifle, unloading everything into the hot skin as it tightens, making him scream. A call to any for help falls heavy on the damaged room. He cannot escape as it almost crushes his ankle, and he claws at the hold. Black blood and chunks of flesh fly everywhere as he rips and tears it away in a frenzy. A final rake over his pants makes the tentacle unfurl, a massive piece of the thing gone as it smears the dark liquid across the floor. A hiss saying he won. For now. A deep laugh, just like from the demon, heard as the world turns gray once more.
The laughter continues as John sees he is still standing, looking around the space.
No... Why the fuck? Why does this keep happening?
“Well done, John,” the voice says again, the walking skeleton in front of him. “You shall meet the dark lord soon.”
Then it unloads an entire wave of rockets at him. John jumps for the machine gun he chucked aside. Dropping to the ground when he hears more go off.
A quick duck all he can do before one explodes by his feet, throwing him into a wall. A wall that crumbles. Shards of glass rain down as he realizes that was not stone that broke. The sharp points cut the corporal’s arms and face as he smashes into the ground and rolls down a hill. A grunt, and he strikes against a rock. At last stopping at the bottom to lay there and bleed.
No, not quite. The Slayer picks John up and puts him back on his feet before glaring at the revenant. A harsh glower for the demon that watches from its perch on a broken window. A green glow from the empty sockets that glare back burning a hole into their souls as it straightens and turns away. Both men letting out a sigh of relief at the easy escape. The corporal using his new favorite warrior for support.
The world darkens as John sways, clutching the Slayer’s arm as the bigger marine smiles. The heavy weapons on the demon is the last thing they see when he coughs and falls over, his head spinning as he collapses.
The Slayer wastes no time grabbing a tank, picking it up to sprint over and place the mask over the corporal's mouth. A quick gasp to at last gulp down oxygen, John gives a slow blink and closes his eyes. The black having him sink into a slumber he refused to let steal him away. Too weak to resist when harsh words to awaken sound distant.
Then, like a slap to the face, his brain slams the door on Death. His eyelids shoot up for him to see the red tint of the planet and the brick house that holds him in his arms. A cough when the Slayer lets out a loud exhale and hugs him tight, careful to keep him breathing while cuddling the air tank, too. A minute given to recover before John finds himself lifted onto broad shoulders as if a kid. No amount of protest that he could walk convincing his savior to let him down while still carrying the lifeline.
“Hey, I am not an heir,” he says, prodding the Slayer’s skull. “There is no need to subject me to this! I am a fucking adult.”
“That’s why I’m okay. Better you than a crying child. Fewer demands.”
“And I have the device with the map.”
“Sure, be the navigator. Tell me where to go. Easier this way. I can fight for us.”
“This is not—”
“No.”
“So let me—”
“No, I am not doing that.”
“And if I remove the mask instead of playing this childish game?”
“I’ll put it back on. Then carry you inside. Like I should with an heir.”
John growls, but puts no energy into the noise, just pulling out the PDA. The map on screen, he grumbles, “Tell anyone about this, and I will cut off your balls. We’ll see how much the bastard likes that.”
But before he says more, his ride walks toward the hill. A hand on a stone, he climbs the steep side, going for the rocks above. A grunt when he throws himself in the air to land on the top of the slope. The moment he hits the ground sprinting for the nearest building. Soon having his course corrected when told to pass a fallen land bridge.
A hum to show he heard, the world turns to nothing but an orange blur when the Slayer promises to make this journey quick. His current passenger finding out how fast his partner is as he hunches forward. In awe of the sheer stamina when the warrior puts some effort into his run, stomping through dirt to tell all the Slayer was coming.
The huffs of exertion are like a colossal beast when he’s ordered to turn, and the man drifts past a boulder to do a hard right. The whole move happening in slow motion as John yells and grips the PDA harder. A scream to be careful answered with a laugh when they jump over a valley past flying demons. The living meatballs gawking as they are left in the dust.
An order to turn left has the Slayer swerve past another creature and through a door opening on its own. Sliding to a halt as the doorway shuts without either doing a thing…
John scans the space as they stop in a large room. All around, growths pulse on the wall, chanting at him, calling him to approach. Come closer and see what they could offer. Honied words echo through the halls as he rips off the mask and takes in the sweet scent of unseen fruit. A soft caress of promises telling him this could end right there. The assurance of peace all he needs to hear for a hand to reach out.
The Slayer seems to misunderstand the motion and grabs his leg. A jump at the contact, the illusion shatters as John sees what looks like tentacles ungulate all around, and he shrinks away. His mouth twists in disgust when they continue deeper into the space and more wriggle above his head. The gentle words to surrender and let them enter his mind do not affect the hulking guy as they go at a normal sprint. The tank tossed at a pale creature, its bent body lying facedown when they pass. Now rushing by offices as they navigate the dark halls, taking a few elevators past more demons that stare at the giant passerby and his rider.
Off to the next section when the voices speak once more, offering a chance of salvation for his soul. The warmth that fills his chest at this idea is nice against the cold black of the building. The temptation to follow the whispers of rest having him touch the Slayer and shake his head. This small tether to reality was enough when they find the door to the following part of Central Processing, and he explains how to get to where Sarge was hiding. A curt nod is the Slayer’s response when he kicks a pair of zombies with chain guns down the hall and continues to the next area.
They only stop when deeper inside. Way past any point of return when the Slayer breaks into a massive gray room with actual working lights. On the other end of the floor is a garage door where an older man waits. Far grayer than the two marines, it doesn't take much for either to see the mostly brown buzz cut and unimpressed visage of the one they had been searching for this whole time: Master Sargent Thomas Kelly. The Sargent in the same attire John wore—plus intact armor—he looks with squinted eyes at his subordinate as he dismounts and approaches.
After a quick nod to each other, the marine is about to ask what is going on when he pauses. His eyes snapping onto a neck scar that he knew Sarge didn’t own before. Yes, they only spoke face-to-face once, but it was hard to miss such a feature. His body is on full alert when he sees it is a perfect circle with lettering around the edge, the mark sitting between the side of his jaw and shoulder. The smooth lines intentional and fully healed.
Their eyes meet as he takes a step back, a fist at his side. “Sir…” John whispers.
“Good to see you, Marine. So it would seem you can do this right. Means you should do fine.”
“What are you talking about, Sir…? What happened to you?”
The Slayer walks forward and looks at the thing, shaking his head. “Davoth got him. That is a spell circle. There is nothing you could do.”
Sarge doesn’t deny this, crossing his arms when he answers, “I did what I had to. All the others are dead, and this was all I could do. Unwanted people were going to ruin things.”
“We all are doing the same thing,” the warrior says and backs off, staying out of arm’s reach to lean on a massive pillar by the door. “But you get nothing. Not from me. Not all of his followers do.”
“Don’t worry, that won’t happen,” turning to look at the open floor when a red circle appears. The soft lines that show his age deepen when he walks over and watches a black boot step from the portal. Though this is not one the demons used, the single ring for the doorway and the lack of lightning a new development.
John moves closer as a powerful leg comes after, black leggings being followed by a tattooed torso. The muscular form of the stranger covered in artwork when he sees the red orb in a powerful chest, his eyes traveling up past broad shoulders as a face appears. Sarge lowers his gaze while the John stares, a glower and crimson irises in full view as John holds his breath. Bracing for an attack when he gasps at who stares back.
No…
No. It cannot be…
Notes:
Wow, feels kind of odd to post something this length after so many chapters that are much impressive in girth (haven't done this since the first part of Doomslayer's Downfall lol).
But no matter when you read it, don't be afraid to leave feedback telling me what you think about what happened, will happen, or a fun idea for the future. I have ways of making things work if I can fit it into the plot (or an extra chapter)! >:3c
Otherwise, I hope you all have a good day, because all my readers deserve a (consensual) form of affection today.
Chapter 4: Two Ways To Pay - Part 2
Summary:
John learns a second important lesson: why it's a bad idea to mess with things he doesn't understand. Davoth happy to show the man the meaning first hand.
Notes:
Slight warning about the chapter: it is a little more brutal thanks to some size issues. Things get a bit bloody, but only to one character, and important like with the Slayer's womb surgery. (Hint, this is an important fact for later!)
Chapter Text
A glance at the Slayer, the man can only gawk as he turns back to the almost identical face staring by the portal. With a grip on his machine gun, he watches as what could be the warrior’s twin walk over to Sargent Kelly and give a natural smile. A hand on the older man’s shoulder when a deeper, husky voice congratulates the superior on his efforts. Giving a sharp squeeze while promising the other would keep his humanity.
But Sarge was not interested in the compliments and says, “Cure me, Davoth, I did what you wanted. Now do what you promised.”
“No, you did not. I said that would happen if you resisted. That was not fulfilled because you almost obeyed the call to become a monster. The imps were waiting to turn you into a weapon. It was only my will and the future of the heirs that offered a second chance. That mortal is stronger than you could ever be,” pointing at John to make the Sargent shrink under the looming figure. Now hissing to Sarge, “My offer is void.”
“Wait, hold on,” interrupts John, walking forward to have the other three men stare. “Are you fucking with me?”
“Excuse me?” growls Davoth, raising a brow.
“Yeah, I was told the great Davoth was the lord of Hell. Not that he was the twin of the Slayer. What the fuck is going on? Slayer, did you fuck your brother?”
“He is under my command, nothing more. I rule Hell. He has no standing in its dominion.”
“So, there is no familial relationship between you? At all?”
“I already see why you were chosen. It all makes sense now.”
“At least someone does,” resting a hand on his hip as the gun lowers a little. “Care to answer?”
The lord laughs and walks over to circle the corporal, scanning John with a smug stare. The echo of his boots on the floor makes the observed man frown as they lock eyes. No words said when Davoth smiles and stands by the Slayer.
A gentle touch has the warrior blink and lean into the hand cupping his chin. A soft sigh having him relax and accept a quick kiss when told how well-behaved he was with the new toy. The arm then wraps around his waist while the watching pair avert their gazes. John covers his mouth when the oh-so-obvious truth hits like a gut punch. His stomach churning when he realizes what this really means. Bile burning his throat as he wants to run to a corner and vomit, his body resisting for now. Instead, swallowing to regain his nerves and face the two again. A slow exhale and parted lips almost sending him over the edge.
“You did not answer the question,” John yells, face-to-face with Davoth to have the fake twins blink. “Why am I here? I demand to know why I am here! What do you want?”
Davoth rolls his eyes but reaches out and touches John’s chin, tilting the man’s face to look in the eye while his irises brighten. The chanting returns, whispering about a taste of power. The room corrupts with a red hellish tint; tentacles slithering in the corners of his vision, reaching for his neck. His mouth opens to speak when a flaming skull flies past, and he jumps. The contact ending for the illusion to disappear as he steps back. The two glaring at each other as John clears his throat.
“So, that’s it?” he asks. “I am someone that you can taunt with horrific visions. How original. Like that is a new thing in this line of work...”
“Oh no, I realize the Slayer explained everything. The reason he’s here, how and why you met. That's all that matters to me. The fact you resisted this… temptation… so well is only a bonus.”
“Marine!” snaps Sarge, grabbing his arm. “Stop pushing your luck and resist this influence.”
Davoth raises a brow and asks the Sargent, “Did you think he was alike in any way? He can refuse just fine. This human is not that weak-willed. His role differs from anything you’ll accomplish.”
“And who says I will work for a bastard like you?” John replies, pulling free of his superior’s grip. “Your marine said what you did. I refuse to help in any of it.”
“Yes, I am quite proud of those efforts. It has been so long since I could be a father again. But do not rely too much on the breeder’s words. The Slayer is best kept busy with a bloody battle, or in a warm bed getting fucked or bred. Though I guess you know a little about the second duty...”
John senses a piece of him break from the fucker's cocky remarks. An eye twitch and clenched fists do not do proper justice to the pure anger that boils his blood like an active volcano. Lips twisting into an animalistic snarl, he says in a low voice, “You will never touch that man again. I’m getting rid of you, then the little parasites you love so damn much. I can’t wait to see every demon in Hell dead. Done worse for a lot less. But I assume this is going to feel way better…”
This gets a laugh out of the ruler as he pushes his warrior aside. The Slayer on the floor for the glaring pair to focus on each other when Davoth says, “There you go. That is what I wanted to see. There is no question why you shall be my breeder’s new pet. Bold in words and fearless in action. A fighter always ready to face any danger with brash determination…”
“What? That's what you want? What the hell?”
“Someone must keep the vessel in line. You seem to know how to make him behave. Like when he was under the control of the collar… An interesting choice to handle things.”
“Sounds like a shitty job. Will have to reject that generous offer and take him with me. I think it’s better for us all if you do.”
“I can get another if you refuse. So you accept your fate, or I turn you into a mindless nanny for my heirs. Unwilling staff is easy to create from unworthy warrior stock.”
“I’d rather die trying to blow your head off,” the chain gun looking like a good option as he touches the handle.
“No!” yells the Slayer as he tackles the corporal, both on the ground to grapple. Hands grabbing the smaller marine as he says, “Don’t do that. I want you alive. Do not let him kill you. No more death. Cannot have that happen again…”
John takes one look at the fear in the warrior’s eyes and growls, punching him in the jaw to falter. The blow met with a grunt, creating an opening to slip out and get to his feet. “Do not stand in my way! This is your fate at stake, Slayer. Nobody should suffer this abuse. Are you so okay with this life that you must ruin yours and mine?”
“I can live with it. You will not get, get, get another chance. Not like me.”
“Then stay out of this,” grabbing the collar to make the Slayer come closer. There is no fight in the larger man when pulled forward, only closing an eye when bracing for John’s raised hand to strike. His posture stiffening when the fingers touch the stone, and he’s shoved to the floor.
A look of pity for the man moaning on the ground, John whips out the big one and pulls the trigger, the explosion of gunfire blinding. The chain gun gripped like the reins on a mutant grizzly bear, he almost crushes the handle as the entire thing jostles his body. With a roar, he leans forward, unloading all his ammo in the lord’s chest and face with an order to burn in Hell. Only stopping when the barrel keeps spinning without a muzzle flash. The click of the trigger proving he had none left.
But then the man looks at the end result and gasps. Davoth still stands in the same spot as when this started. His shoulders squared and body intact as a chill rushes down John's spine. His heart racing as the fucker should be nothing but a pile of gore. Every bullet is designed to slice through the body like a hot knife through butter.
This bastard doesn’t have a scratch on him…
A slow blink at the assault, the ruler chuckles and kicks aside the pile of bullets at his feet. “What a brave man you are… You know my power and prowess, but you still fight me. Let’s hope we can say the same about more fitting targets.”
This only pisses John off as he chucks the gun. It would seem this motherfucker did not give up when told no. There are not too many other ways he could fix that, but he would have to try. And the old-fashioned way of getting much closer seemed like the best option. Not like he had many other to consider. Though when have limited choices stopped him before?
So with a yell and his boots pounding on the metal floor, he sprints for the tyrant. The world nothing but the smug grin on Davoth’s face when he charges, ready for a fight. A fist raised as he jumps the lord and brings force down on the square jaw. The ruler of Hell unmoving when he faces the assault with open arms, flashing his teeth as if asking for them to be knocked to the floor. The arm coming down to do just what he asked.
The corporal almost howling when it feels like punching a bolder. The power put into the attack returning tenfold to make the entire limb fly back as he falls to the ground. His jaws clench as he holds it close to the chest, ignoring the pulsing pain in his bleeding knuckles. A growl covers up a sound of suffering when he stands up and hunches his shoulders. The unhurt hand curling into a fist, he swings a second time. This blow with more force to a much softer place farther down the torso.
A crushing grip on his wrist stops another strike inches from the exposed side, making him yell. Then bellow as the fingers threaten to break the fragile bones.
The other massive palm lifts to choke him, the fingers close to pulverizing his windpipe when pulled forward. Any air cut off when nails bruise his neck and break the skin. The strength in Davoth’s hold squeezing the life out of him when he can only see irises that glow like an intense inferno. A shake for good measure, keeping him too weak to struggle.
“I am waiting for an answer, John,” Davoth whispers. “If you had real fighting skills, I would get insulted, but you are only a toy to give my breeder. Now tell me your decision, or you and your Sargent shall perish. Submit like him, and this will be all over.”
The man glances at his superior, seeing how the threat only makes him cover the spell circle and close his eyes. Resignation is the best word to describe the way he deals with his life on the line. No fight left when told his soul is in jeopardy.
But he couldn’t… Such a fate can’t be worse than this and still be worth living. What kind of person—
“Davoth…” whines the Slayer as he kneels beside the lord. “Can I pick?”
The grip loosens for John to gulp down a lungful of air while Davoth turns to the man and asks, “Did I ask for an opinion? Keep silent, or you are pleasuring the palace guards instead.”
“But I want both. Both of you to fuck me… John is good at that. Tested him to be sure. He passed with flying colors,” biting his lip as the lustful warrior rubs his belly.
“Is that so, breeder?” stroking his chin when the Slayer gives a vigorous nod. “Is there another reason? Or are you just trying to save the toy’s life?”
“Your spell chose the man. It would be foolish to not listen. Your power is always right…”
“A fair point for such a state. Why can you not be so thoughtful without the collar?” With a shrug, he says, “I suppose a vessel wants such stimulation when like this…” a grin lighting up his face as sharp teeth poke out.
“I need this,” reaching for a pants leg to pull himself forward and nuzzle the inside of the ruler’s thighs.
“Well, I cannot say no to such a suggestion,” tossing John to the ground to stroke the Slayer’s head. “Thomas, go tell the crew to load the ship and get the beds set. Once everyone starts, watch the imps while they work. Be quick, who knows how long this may take…” a smirk aimed at the marines by his feet.
The Slayer purring at the attention, John glares at Sarge as he blinks and exits the room with a blank face. The three alone once the door closes, there is nothing left to say. All the man can do is pretend the Slayer was not giving a look that promises excitement. And a time that the corporal hopes to forget. His lips remain shut as he watches the other lean into the hand cupping his chin. A soft touch on his own back not doing any favors when the fingers travel up to grab his nape.
More so when they force him to watch as Davoth grips his waistband. Eyes staring as the one above pulls the pants down to show the thick base of a hefty manhood. A chill goes down his spine when he realizes the girth is bigger than the Slayer’s cock. Heartbeats thundering in his ears as he knows he would not be so lucky this time. This would be nowhere as pleasant as the round with his warrior. A swallow and shudder only having more of the length revealed. The ruler laughing as a perfect shaft comes into view, and John wishes this was not a living nightmare.
“I will make this simple,” says Davoth as the rest flops out to prove John correct about everything. “You get me off with your mouth and let my breeder use you, and I’ll forgive the apprehension. Don’t, and you help him out with a few barons. They are potent with their seed, and all are happy to fuck him senseless. Shame it’s hard for him to walk after. Doubt you would even survive, but we can always find out.”
“Fuck you...” he says, finding it hard to turn away from the danger hanging in front of his face. The flush burning his face impossible to ignore when inhaling the smell of sweat. The need to scream dulling as his lungs fill with the virile fragrance.
“No, that will be the Slayer if you're wise. Such a breakable body would not last long enough for me.”
This is all John hears before the cock twitches and the fingers on the back of his neck tighten, flashbacks to the last time flooding his mind. He could not win, no matter what he chose. That was obvious when the mammoth head pokes a cheek. And he does not want to imagine what being a caregiver for hellspawn would entail. Such a fate sounds so much worse. Staying here with the demons had to be better.
But how could he do this? Was he really letting this insanity win?
A glance at the Slayer does nothing to sway his decision. The answer just grows more foggy when the warrior forces him to inhale the heavy scent of smoke and musk. His head spins as the essence of the lord seeps into his bloodstream, clouding his mind; the aroma almost intoxicating as it is revolting.
Oh fuck… Maybe not.
“Fuck you,” he growls and closes his eyes, opening his mouth when the hand on his neck gets replaced with a palm on his skull. The arm guides him to the tip, shoving the glans inside to swallow, the taste salty and somehow sweet when the slit grinds on his tongue.
Davoth shows he’s impatient, not allowing John to brace when it hits the back. He feels an ache in his jaws when stretched to the limit, the ligaments screaming as they feel like they are getting ripped apart. A gag tightens the hole when the cock tries to slip down, right after pulling out for him to breathe and grab a thigh. “Fuck,” he says between coughs while spitting on the shaft, drool soaking his chin while fisting the base. More globs create the nastiest mess he can muster, his sides shaking as he prays this will help. It had to…
“So the toy knows what he is doing,” Davoth purrs while bringing the tip to the man’s lips. “Good,” smashing back inside. Slow thrusts stretch the taut entrance, keeping John full and his mouth busy with what matters the most.
Davoth groans as his hips remain steady. A sharp twitch agitates the narrow hole as it fights to accommodate the massive girth while John glares. The lord in return pushes the man down until he struggles against the shaft wanting to rip his throat. Tears welling in his eyes as he cannot fight back, the cock soon speeds up to make them stream down his face with each grunt. Both hands on his skull to shove into the bush as his cheeks puff and fingers grab the muscular legs with a death grip. Arms shaking and head spinning as he is about to faint.
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—
Then he gets pulled off to suck down air like it was a rare gift—which it might as well be as spots dance in front of him. His face is a mess and soaked in whatever leaks out of the sloppy hole when forced back down to resume choking and fighting to stay conscious. Snot and tears a horrible mixture that makes him sick as he endures the worst facefuck he has ever had. A small hell for him to suffer while the lord proves he can destroy a man with his cock. John wishing this was a euphemism like every time before when his jaws scream for mercy.
With each thrust, Davoth’s sac smacks on his chin, tasting bile each time he comes off to breathe. His face is soaked and his throat fucked raw when he gets gifted more than moments to recover. A full minute of being gawked at by the fake twins heats his cheeks as he takes precious lungfuls of air. The skin on his face and chest a deep red flush when he stares at the ground.
The harsh slap of the rock-hard erection that he caused stings when it strikes a cheek. The humiliation so much worse now as he sees the leaking tip seconds before catching some in his eye. Bruised lips grimacing when he squints as more tears gush from the burning socket. Rubbing the mess until it stops hurting as he growls and flips the bastard off. The other not even sounding offended when asking the Slayer if he always had an attitude. The man unsure, just saying he never had too many issues making him come.
John is so close to screaming at the pair when he gets silenced once more. The curses he wanted to yell lost after he was dragged back and slobbering on cock—when not choking on it. The hands holding him down become cruel in their effort. The constant barrage on his revenged hole having him look up at Davoth to plead for lenience. Any pity he could hope for not found. The mercy he wished to receive impossible to find in the vicious glint of the ruler’s eyes. Only lust and need showing when Davoth shoves John down for his head to roll backward. A groan heard when John clenches down.
The hot come might as well be molten metal when it pours down the corporal 's throat. The ruined hole screams in agony as the burning ropes hit raw flesh and paints everything with fiery heat. Hard pulses only make it worse as they threaten to rip him open with the power of the massive load shooting into his stomach. A heavy weight in his gut from all the jizz swallowed when the shaft yanks out, and he moans. Falling to his hands and knees as he gags and coughs. The orgasm threatening to rush back up as he gasps and dry-heaves, a hand on his abdomen.
No, no, no…
Davoth seems to enjoy this as he fists his cock and jerks off, moaning at the sight. A comment about how disgusting John looked covered in seed, the words feel like a slap to the face. More white flying out as the ruler hisses, thick ropes hit the humiliated marine on the lips as he is too stunned to react.
But his gut is not. A torrent of come spews all over the floor as his entire body clenches and heaves to rid himself of everything. The retching so much louder in the large space as John feels the sweat cling to his skin and he sobs at how much it hurts. The pain and shame far worse than a bullet wound or stabbing when brought so low before such an enemy.
The sole saving grace from this humbling experience is that the Slayer moves him away from the mess once done. A soft whisper to relax, the words are almost mocking as the warrior purrs and rubs his back with too much exploration. The kind gesture feels hollow as he kisses a tear-stained cheek, licking up more when they fall. An odd poke in the side filling the other with pure dread about what comes next. The thought of enduring more was too extreme. There was no reality where this was what he had to do to survive. Right? No, this is just a nightmare... He had to be in a hallucination from Davoth...
John sits up to wipe his chin and spit out the last of the bile onto the ground. A look away from the puddle, he notices that the Slayer watches him with glee. With an almost natural smile on his face, the other man has no issues grabbing his soaked shirt and pants to toss aside. Or turning to Davoth to ask if he can clean up the mess with a flirtatious tone, grinding his body on the new toy. No, not body, cock. The massive bulge the size of a large fist, it is a warning—and a reminder—this was not over for the corporal. Not when he hears a snap and his skin is far less sticky, the floor much cleaner when he blinks.
Or when a shaky breath blows in his ear as the Slayer grinds harder against John’s naked body. After seeing what happened, the warrior was hard and humping the corporal 's back as he praises the hot blowjob he witnessed. The words are thick like honey when telling how he wanted to come from watching, but didn’t; would have helped if allowed. The frottage speeds up with this confession. Both men shudder from the contact when strong arms wrap around the smaller waist, a slow lick and moan warning about the large orgasm approaching.
While not as big or bad, it’s still more than John expected when the other soaks his pants and source of friction with come. Hot seed drips through the fabric, smearing John’s skin to dirty anew as the Slayer laughs and kisses the back of his neck. Quick pecks cover the corporal’s throat once the warrior’s balls are empty, and he lets go. His toy is too stunned to move when he falls forward and gags on bile. Nothing left in his stomach to vomit again.
“Oh,” sighs the Slayer, as he rips off his sullied pants to show he was still hard. “Come here, let me.” He doesn’t seem to care about the state of the other man when pulling him into his lap, already stroking the shorter, flaccid dick.
“Stop, we’re done,” yells John, yanking the hand from his cock. “Don’t do this.”
“Why?” kissing the crook of his neck. “You must take care of yourself. A good fuck gets rewarded.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I did what Davoth asked. Let me go,” escaping the hold when said ruler intervenes, pinning John to the ground as he watches and strokes a still-hard shaft.
“I agree with the Slayer,” the lord says, dripping into the black locks under his boot. “I get my breeder off when he behaves, and you shall receive the same… benefits,” groaning while the Slayer drags their shared plaything back to his side. “Besides, that is part of the deal. Make the brood-boar come properly, or you will create an exceptional children’s toy.”
The room now seems so much smaller for John as he gets put back in the Slayer’s lap. The massive arms act as a suitable cage, keeping him there when the hand returns with kind words of praise. Though the best compliment is how nice he looked when pleasing Davoth. Adding how dirty he was, and what that meant for future breedings. The thought of such activities having the smaller man shrink in the crushing fetters.
The fist on his cock is quick to get him hard as it moves to find what makes him whimper and squirm. Every pump over the shaft makes the corporal slap a hand over his mouth to not groan while his body shifts in the tight embrace. A ragged exhale too loud to not be ignored when he leaks and earns more kisses on the side of the neck. A slow lick over the same spot causes his entire face to heat up as he wants this to feel right. He needs this to be something good. An arched spine and muffled moan make the other two laugh at his reaction while he grabs the Slayer’s arm. The wrongness of it all sickening for the trapped man.
“Like that?” whispers the warrior, giving another flick of the tongue. “I can do more…”
“No!” flinching from the pain created by shouting. Then adding in a lower voice, “No, that isn’t right. Not so soon. What do you want, Slayer? It’s you who wanted this whole thing. Tell me,” turning to see dilated pupils outlined with blue as the bigger man stares. John’s face falls when the warrior seems to stop thinking. The Slayer letting his lips twist into a frown like this inquiry was too much.
However, after a second, the warrior rests his chin on a shoulder and titters, pulling the marine in his lap closer. Lust oozes from his lips when he replies, “That hasn’t changed... I am a good breeder. Give me cock. Come inside me a lot. You do just fine,” twisting his wrist to get an especially erotic moan from John as he almost bends his spine so far the entire column snaps.
After several deep breaths, the corporal finds his voice and asks his ally a question. “So you like that? You need a cock when using the collar?” lifting a hand to touch a cheek as he turns, and the Slayer nods. “Is that all you want?”
Another nod and the arms retreat. Next, he lets John slip out and sit on the floor before crawling over to lay his toy down. Without a word, getting on top to whisper in an ear, “I’ll be good to you. Let me,” tilting his chin to tempt a kiss. Waiting for the other to accept, he brings them together to start slowly as he grinds both cocks together, the shaft pressing on their entangled bodies. Speeding up only when he slips his tongue inside to explore as the other groans.
A shared moan has John close his eyes and notice how the Slayer can do this right. The way this man moves unlike most he got in the past. The mindfulness of his partner making it arduous to not focus on the kindness. Or how he shudders when the pair of lips leave to kiss his face before traveling down his torso. Slow licks trace his muscles until the last one finds his hip, and the warrior sits up.
A look at the Slayer's massive erection, the hard shaft is all that John can see when his own throbs at the sight. His body is aware of his usual desires when the well-behaved breeder lines up and sinks down with a loud groan. His entire cock consumed by the hole with the same ease and eagerness as last time with a slow grind along the girth. A whine coming from the Slayer from being full, as if he was not bigger and could use the man below for a fleshlight.
But John is not interested in finding out what that would feel like and turns his gaze to the man's thighs. Just watching the guy lift his hips a little to go easy at first. The slow rise and fall of his ass getting them to gasp as one, the hole clinging to its toy to earn another.
The Slayer glances at idle hands by the corporal’s side. A quick drop to groan, he leans forward and goes faster. Soon guiding the other to grab his sides as he moves with more energy. John listens to the chorus of gasps and grunts from above, biting his lip as his cock gets pleased. The tightness is better than many that were this eager, but without the usual awkwardness. No shame to be found when the warrior was willing to adjust and take the time to get this right. The Slayer toying with him while begging for his come.
And John is fine with pretending this served him while holding tight. A few weak thrusts perfect for the one on top to open his mouth with lustful pants. The simple gesture having them lock eyes, the slap of skin getting louder as clear drops hit the corporal’s stomach. A large finger wiping it off to lap up with a shake of his hips, the dirty display for his partner to revel in. The signal was so blatant in its attempt to rile John up, he growls at the gall. A laugh comes from the Slayer, proving this response was well-received as more gets consumed.
But there is nothing that can stop what comes after. No point in announcing it when the Slayer is the first to come, hard. Even after his previous orgasm, he shoots all over John with thick ropes to decorate his chest. The dirtied man jumps and watches with wide eyes, his nerves firing as he wants to run. Falling all the way back down on John’s cock, the Slayer grabs his own to stroke as he begs for the other to fill him. A whimper comes out when a fist pumps more of his load across the mounds and valleys of muscle, painting the skin with seed. A comment about being just as fantastic as the rest not missed by John when it echoes in the large space.
Said man staring in shock as he cannot help but twitch at the sight. Like the universe wanted to mock him with what he loves as he blinks in frustration. The strangeness of everything has him reach up when the other marine leans in for a kiss. A hand on the collar to let them stay close as the Slayer again explores this partner with shaking hands. Slow heavy thrusts pounding into his ass as John focuses on finishing. Certain that if he didn’t, the Slayer wouldn’t stop until he did. Closing his eyes to keep himself steady while he wishes this was not how they ended up here.
He needs to feel like this was right as fingers find his hair to ruin the short locks, earning a shared moan. The spark from the contact making him shudder and buck, striking something in the Slayer to make him howl. Almost as if a button got pushed, he moves again. His spine arching as he sits up and yells to come. Needed to stop fucking with him by holding back. A cry to shoot deep into his hole.
John opens his mouth to yell his answer when the tight rim grips his cock, and he groans as an explosion of sparks obliterates any resistance to the order. What little control he had gone when coming inside the breeder as he returns for a kiss. This one is much harder as the Slayer clenches and milks him dry, squeezing the shaft to get every drop as if trying for another heir. John groans with each rope that spills deep into the hole as he pulses and pushes the Slayer down to the base, making him whimper from the rough treatment.
A few weak whines slip out when the breeder gets lifted off. Though despite the noise, he doesn’t fight the other man’s efforts. And when at the top, he is careful to climb off and sit at arm’s length. The Slayer makes the load stay inside with a shaky hand as he lets the other marine recover. The second hand used to check on John as he touches a patch of bare skin.
The man waves him off, hoping he gets the hint. Happy to see someone does when the warrior glances at Davoth and tilts his head. After a second of eye contact, he stands and walks over, both of his users seeing the gifted seed dribbling down his thighs. The ruler’s hand on a hip to pull his breeder closer.
But while the lord takes in the sight of the satisfied Slayer, John sits up with a groan and hides his body. Curled up and closed off, he blinks back tears and runs his fingers through messy locks. Jaws clenched to stay quiet as he was so close to screaming so loud the near-death blowjob would be a vacation on his larynx.
No. That is not what he should be doing after such humiliation. Crying will not fix this. No, there was only one thing that would. But he can’t even do anything about it. Not if his attacks lead to this kind of torture.
Fuck! He just got punished for doing the right thing again.
A hand rubs his face, his head falling as both shoulders slump. This all feels wrong. This had to be a beneficial decision. Why else would he have let himself do that? But that wasn’t correct. Was it?
Better than dying, right? He did what he had to. Same as before.
After he glances at the discarded weapons on the ground, John curls his hand into a fist and hides it against his chest. That would not help. No, he needed a real plan of attack. All enemies had a weakness. Just give it time… He would find the answer soon enough. Or damn well die trying…
This thought gets interrupted when he hears the other two speak. Picking up a laugh, he turns as Davoth forces the Slayer to kneel. The man opens his mouth to accept the bastard’s cock, licking the slit as he closes his eyes and moans. A deep growl of pleasure from the lord, he glances at the staring marine as he looks away. John’s body facing the opposite wall when he overhears a chuckle and soft kisses. Not daring to give the source of his torment the satisfaction of seeing him seethe. Brows furrowed as he wonders if it would be more effective to stab the bastard to death.
“Do not act so embarrassed, John,” purrs Davoth. "This is normal for my breeder. You should embrace his gifts and"—pausing to purr—"have fun with them."
The man fights the urge to turn around as he glares at the ceiling and takes a deep breath. But he is not one for holding all the way back and answers, “Fuck off, you pathetic waste of oxygen! I will bash a crater into that thick skull if you continue talking.”
“Plenty have called me worse and made heavier threats. But do remember for next time, all are dead because they let their foolish attitudes take control. So think of something better so I can feed you to the children, or keep silent.”
A gagging sound has John whip his head around to see Davoth hilt deep in the Slayer’s mouth. A calm seen in the man’s eyes as the cock plows into his throat with sharp thrusts. The corporal stands up, a look of disgust on his face as he tries to walk away. Then leans on a wall when his knees shake. The horrible noise of choking and coughing beating at his eardrums.
In a low voice, John hisses, “Stop, I did what you wanted. Let us go. You got a new fun thing to play with your breeder,” spitting out the last word with all the venom he could muster.
“Yes, that is true,” pulling the Slayer off to leave panting on the ground. “Good to see you have accepted the additional role. But I am not sated with the sad job before, and the vessel is still happy to serve. It’s time to begin your duties.”
“Oh no, you know—”
“Breeder, what do you think?” Davoth interjects.
The man hums and beams, glancing at both as he speaks. “I want more… More come. I need both of you to fuck me. Please. I can take way more. Both of you can have... way more.”
“Well, then”—pulling the Slayer to his feet to slam him against a pillar and hear a pained moan—“show what you desire. Be quick, or I am leaving.”
And the second Davoth speaks, the lustful fucker bends his spine so much it might snap. A whine as the Slayer adjusts, his feet slide as far as they can go while still standing. Absolute trust in the ruler when he grips both ass cheeks and spreads them wide without a hint of shame.
Davoth nods and pulls the warrior back to his side, turning both toward John. The two staring as he struggles to stand straight. A knee tremors, and he slides to the floor, unable to move when the lord walks over and grabs an arm. More dragging than leading him to the pillar, he tosses the man to the Slayer without a care as strong arms rush to catch him. The man grunting when his face lands in the soft mounds of the warrior's chest, John is now forced to accept his fate. Though the feeling is comforting, his heart beats like an overclocked machine as he smells sweat and sweet milk.
“Get him ready, Slayer,” says Davoth. “He needs to be prepared. You decide how broken in the toy should be.”
The warrior nods and hurries to lean John against the pillar, hands gripping the smaller man’s wrists as he ensures his partner is holding on to the metal column. With a gentle grip on a hip, the Slayer gets on his knees and whispers about which demon did this best before burying his face between the cheeks. The man he holds snaps his eyes wide open and looks behind, reaching for the buried head trying to eat him out. The hot tongue quick to find his rim, shaking fingers tangle in the short hair when he moans and clenches the hand. A wet warmth in no time making him receptive as each digit in the locks curl into a fist. The slick muscle pushing in to force the entrance apart while his jaw drops to let out a throaty groan.
What little control John had over his limbs evaporates when his knees quake and he pulls the eager face deeper into the crack. The shame of these actions shoved into the back of his mind. Whatever was going to happen, the faster it was over, the sooner he could walk away with his life. Every second could be one where everything goes wrong.
But he had lasted this long. There cannot be that much more, right?
The Slayer lifts his head to breathe and spits on the muscle, getting the outside wet. Another heard off to the side. He next slips a slick finger inside, the arm pumping to keep him loose. It keeps a steady pace to grind on his insides, getting a small shake from the corporal. The digit soon changes speed to see what gets a far more fun reaction, the occasional gasp and sigh helping him gauge his progress. John shifting to have it go deeper, closing his eyes to moan when knuckle deep. A soft pant telling the other this is just what he wants as his legs slide apart and show more for the kneeling marine.
The Slayer laughs and kisses a hip, whispering praise as the finger curls and grinds on the tunnel. The arm speeding up to see a full body shudder when it hits the right spot. A groan slips out, causing another hit to the same point. Then a few more as he gets more vocal, his frame shaking as his cock jumps back to life. A chuckle saying the cause of this is pleased and returns to devouring his ass as if they had starved him for a week. Once more, hearing what sounded like a feast as John groans and grabs his manhood, hiding the erection to ignore as it grows impossibly harder. A stifled moan caught in his throat when the hand responds with two fingers to make him hump the palm. His hips bouncing on the digits, begging to begin this again. By the end having three fit inside when the Slayer stands and lines up his dick with the dripping hole. Some pre-cum dribbling down the quaking thighs.
“Ready?” the Slayer asks John while kissing his throat.
“Just get it over with.”
“Yeah, I want to come too. It’s the best part,” licking the other marine’s jawline while he grabs the smaller hips and pushes on the rim. The Slayer ignoring the gasps as the muscle aches from the sheer size pressing down.
“Slayer…” John groans, taking a deep breath as the tip breaches, and he wants to shout. More sharp exhales help it go in as he sees the lack of lube would never cut it. His ass is going to get torn from taint to dick tip. What flesh that was left would be mopped up with his guts from the ground. The cock almost halfway in when he says in a tight voice, “Slayer, please stop. I need more. Don’t—”
The most bloodcurdling scream burst from his lips as unseen movement shakes the marines. The explosion of pain was like someone had fisted him with a metal boxing glove. His already sore throat screaming in agony as he bellows and tenses every muscle in his body. Tears welling in his eyes, he wants to kill whoever did this.
A sharp turn of the head shows that Davoth had gotten impatient and grabbed his fuckhole despite being busy. A slow grind getting the receiver to shudder and slide in deeper as John again makes a noise, writhing as it ripped apart his tunnel. The soft walls stretched around the massive cock as something tears, and the tears fall down his face. The hands on his hips hurry to bend him forward as a hot breath blows on his neck. Only angering his marine partner even more.
“Slayer,” he hollers, failing to muster up the energy to escape when the impossible girth rips out, and he slumps forward. A sob escapes as the hole wants to close, the head still inside to deny him any relief.
“What?” worry in the man’s tone. “Do you—”
“He seems to be enjoying this…” purrs Davoth as he bucks his hips and makes the Slayer prod John’s aching hole. “Sounds just like you begging for a breeding.”
“Are you sure?” yelping when a loud slap echoes in the room and makes him jump. “Sorry… I won’t…”
“Do not question what you do not understand. Breeders don’t lead unless told to for a reason.”
“Please…”
John turns when the bulbous glans push on his ass, and two powerful arms wrap around his waist. The icy chill that comes with this anticipation causes the worst-timed shudder and clench. His body trying to shut down the second the tip pushes through. He throws his head back when fully impaled on the cock, an inhuman sound ripping from his throat. The taste of blood filling his mouth as the animalistic howl of pain fills the room.
The first few thrusts are light to see how deep the shaft could go, making him blink away a tear. But the next one is rougher, punching his guts. And it doesn’t ease up once the Slayer sees how far he can reach, the quick pace used to finger him now matched by the unyielding girth. John’s wet cheeks soaked with more tears when the sharp bucks only make him spasm and scream. A touch on the face from the Slayer doing nothing as he’s made to turn and examine the flashes of worry in the other’s lustful gaze. The soft pets on his side zero help when the warrior tries to slow for some comfort.
No, this simply makes what comes next worse. His efforts to be kind only gets the Slayer fucked harder himself, howling with bliss as John is rip asunder even more. As the heavy sac slaps the corporal's ass, something hot runs down his thighs onto the floor. Too fearful of what this could mean, he rests his face on the pillar and bites his lip until it bleeds and his head spins. More sobs escape his lips, making Davoth laugh while the Slayer gags his toy. A whisper to stay awake, the bigger man promises he would be as gentle as possible.
The warning then cut off with a moan as the warrior stiffens to prevent further damage despite the lust. But not enough for John to not see the lord going faster. The fingers on his jaw clenching when a deeper groan has his body come forward, and John cries he’s coming. All his nerves are on fire and shooting, as he can’t hold back. From the first pulse, there is only pain in the ruined hole, as John can no longer make a sound. His second orgasm impossible to stop as he clenches and his mind shuts down. His throat closed as the world blurs and his vision goes black. The last thing he hears being a loud gasp and laughter from the two still destroying his guts.
He does not know how long he was out, but he can be certain when he awakens—and somehow able to feel his lower half. The agony is just as bad as before, and it grows worse once cool air hits the bloody wounds. With a pained groan, he opens an eye as a shadow blocks the glaring lights above. Then the other when he sees the twisted expression of the Slayer as he continues getting fucked. Worry and lust mix as he checks on the fallen marine. With a moan of pain, he screams he loves it. Then pushes back to get a slap on the ass as John looks.
The lord wears a smug grin as he stares back, telling his breeder the new toy was acceptable. Would do for now. The promise of letting his warrior keep John having both men sigh in relief. The bigger man thanking his ruler as he beams at John.
Then the Slayer reaches behind and does something to make the thrusts speed up. His knees quivering in response when the pace becomes wilder, almost inhuman in power. The floor shaking when the royal brood-boar grabs his cock, his arm a blur. Both groan as the fucking stops, and both shoot, hitting John in the face as he slides away and growls.
Or the best the man can do when his ass explodes with pain, his legs swaying violently as he watches both burly bodies shudder with bliss until Davoth pulls out. Come begins to drip on the floor when the shaft slips out; but once it flops between the lord's thighs, a waterfall of white gushes by their feet. The used warrior slides to the ground as the bastard fists his cock and snaps for it to get cleaned. An eager mouth latches on to suck off and lick every inch. The wet shaft getting a final once over before putting it away for the lord. Next told to do the same with John.
And as with everything else, there is not much the injured man can do when a hand grabs his leg, and the Slayer frowns. A slow inspection of the painful sight has him shake his head. A look at Davoth has the ruler sigh as he comes over and examines the damage with annoyance. However, despite his reaction, he orders the breeder to wait by the door and slips a couple of fingers into the torn rim as John groans and glares.
“I suppose you want me to heal this. Isn’t that right?” Davoth inquires in a callous tone.
John rightfully yells back, “Get me a fucking medic! What the fuck is wrong with you? Don’t you dare try getting a another round out of us.”
“No need for such an attitude. Tell me you’ll be my breeder’s handler, and I can fix all the damage done.”
“What the hell are you going to do?“
“Close the wounds faster than a doctor or any machine your universe possesses. And with no scars.”
“You better if you are finger fucking my bloody ass!”
“Not an answer.”
“Yeah, I’ll handle him. Just so I can kill you with my two hands. I will make sure they never find your corpse.”
“That is quite an old threat to me. I shall forgive the lack of originality because of the pain this time.”
“Oh great, you have a sense of humor. Now fix me up.”
Davoth grins and places a hand on John’s stomach, a circle forming over his pelvis as a soft chant fills the room. A small vibration felt under the palm, the torn flesh loses any sensation while runes form around the inside of the circle. Lines snake through the letters when the fingers leave the hole, the digits covered in blood to trace over the circumference with the fresh life force.
The lord opens his eyes wider when they glow like a spotlight and tint the entire room red, tentacles forming on the walls. Then he blinks, and the space is normal again, the spell ending for the circle to disappear.
The feeling is quick to return to his lower half as the ruler stands and holds out his hand for the man. John instead sits up and checks on his ass. A peer at the dried blood on his skin and the floor, a few fingers inspect his insides to know everything is once more intact. The hole is a little fresher than before, too.
But as he turns his gaze, he sees pink on his belly. The anguish that comes with the confusion has him spot lettering where the spell had been before. The same circle that had floated above his abdomen now branded into the skin. From the top of his pelvis to the base of his cock, it carved scars into his flesh. The lines smooth and neat, this could not be mistaken for anything but planned out. The whole thing was done with forethought, as if an official brand for a new head of livestock. A pang of fear swells to hit him like a gut punch when he discovers the ruler beam at his handiwork before walking away.
“Hey, what the fuck did you do?” yells John as he jumps to his feet. “This a sick fucking power move for you? Or do you get off on this shit too?”
Davoth stops and looks over a shoulder, saying, “I enjoy making sure all know what is mine. But that is not the reason for the brand. It is like my vessel’s collar and shall do a great job of keeping you in line. Think of it as a more subtle version of his gem.” As he turns back and walks over to the Slayer, he adds, “Both of you get dressed. We have a long trip to Earth,” pressing the warrior’s stone to have him straighten as a snap gets rid of the mess all over the room.
Once the lord finds a wall to lean on, the Slayer hurries over to John. A hand on the corporal, he examines the man while whispering “Sorry” over and over. A raised brow from the other marine at this profuse apology, the warrior switches his tone and says that Davoth usually made sure he didn’t hurt men he was forced to fuck; saying he always got them off but never did something so dangerous.
But it falls on deaf ears when John snarls and gets to his feet. A glare at the worried man, all he does is turn his back and walk over to his uniform. He tells the Slayer to put on some pants, seeing that their clothes got cleaned, too. The fresh smell of washed fabric makes him quick to dress and search for his supplies, finding nothing else remained. An unease comes over the corporal as he looks at Davoth, who motions him to follow. The man about to refuse when the garage door rises, and Sarge walks in, giving a sharp bow to the lord as he says they are ready to depart.
A sound of approval at the news, Davoth tells the men to get moving as a portal opens. The red swirling doorway big enough for all to step inside, having them board a ship. This vehicle bigger than the one that brought John to Mars, it houses a throne and several cushions on the floor inside a dark interior. The curved walls leading to a tall ceiling, it is a serious upgrade.
It’s hard to imagine this thing ever stopping on a UAC base. Especially when looking at the red and black stone of the grand chair where the ruler reclines as he tells the men to sit down. All three made to rest on the cushions when the floor tilts and shakes. Take off is the only answer for John as he grabs a knee and looks around the room for some kind of distraction. The situation grows worse when he finds nothing, and he remembers he is stuck between his superiors. The two seeming to loom over despite doing nothing to him. Yet.
A slight pressure from false gravity has him grip his cushion until the ground is more level. Still not unwinding, he can breathe more normally now. More relaxed for a moment, he realizes Sarge was staring at him. Squinted eyes staring from an otherwise unreadable mask. Anger swells in the man as a hand reaches for his belt, ready to demand some answers. Then he stops. His weapons are gone. A deep frown is the best thing he has when the Sargent shakes his head and looks at the floor with wide eyes. His entire posture falling as he lets out a heavy exhale.
What did Sarge know? Was he doing the same shit as many in his past? Just blindly following whoever was the highest ranked? Or did he see something he wasn’t supposed to? What could he have witnessed while they assumed he was busy?
Though as with every time they blatantly left him ignorant, he knows to let it drop for now. The man was too tired to do more than get some rest. His body had healed, but his mind was racing. The demons were gone, but who could guess how long the peace would last? The quiet could be interrupted at any second. Or turn into something so much worse than what got him on the ship…
Sat back, John leans on a wall as he sees Davoth examine him. The corporal blinks back, both staring at the other with an air of carelessness. The true level of wonder and scrutiny from Davoth is impossible for the man to gauge. He can only assume he would find out how much it mattered. If it did at all. The best he could do was play it safe and pretend he was a good fighter by being quiet. His lesson learned, he needed to recoup. Rest as the lord treated him like an animal in a zoo.
His posture one of fake calm, he curls up and closes his eyes, ears perked to hear the smallest of sounds. Ready to strike if someone even sneezed wrong in his direction.
Or run, if he got grabbed.
Chapter 5: No Rest For Those Who Serve The Wicked
Summary:
Both marines learn what John's new spell circle can do, and the Slayer begins to see the reality of living away from Davoth when universes apart.
Notes:
So... we get to meet some interesting characters in this chapter. A bit different of an interaction to most who enjoy the Slayer, but I think it is fun to mix it up. Add some spice to the breeder's life, pour salt in the emotional wounds, and spritz some lemon juice on top. (o゜▽゜)o☆
PS I left a fun little surprise in the text. It will happen again.
/) /)
( • ༝•)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
As the bright lights above shine down on him, the dull gray walls make it hard to concentrate for the Slayer. And the short ceiling and lack of windows only make it worse. The whole room seeming so much smaller as the walls close in around him after the doors are locked. His feet tapping when forced to choose between sitting on the floor or a tiny chair that reminds him how much bigger he is than most.
That, and John pacing as he grumbles about losing all of his supplies. Though the Slayer is unsure if it’s the dark air surrounding him, or the fact he won’t stay still for even a second. Either is enough to make the other marine cross his arms as he waits for the subject to change from missing guns and medical kits to something else more personal. It had to happen. His body tense as he lets the right words swirl around in his mind as they wait to be let loose.
That comes sooner than expected when the corporal throws his chair and bellows at the door, “Who the fuck is out there? Huh? Is anybody going to come in and talk? Maybe give us a damn answer as to why the hell we are here?”
“John, calm down,” hisses the Slayer, standing to grab the man’s arm and drag him back. “What will this do?”
“Calm down? Yeah, easy for the motherfucker that is apparently superhuman. No need to freak out when you can snap a person’s neck with your bare hands.”
“And I want you alive. Better to think first.”
“Where was this caution before? Would have helped when we were getting fucked over. Literally!”
“No—”
The corporal gets his wish as the door slides open for two men to walk inside. While both are dressed in similar uniforms to John, theirs are tan with intact armor and combat helmets. The headgear is the oddest part, the dull metal encasing their heads to have them see out of eye holes, while gas masks obscure the rest of their faces. The pair exchanging looks with each other once the doorway locks again, they then turn to stare at the waiting marines.
“Great…” whispers John as he stands at the Slayer’s side. “They got the welcoming committee.”
The Slayer blinks and studies the two strangers, the tone the other used having him check for something off. Though beyond the close distance in the small room, nothing looks wrong. The masks reveal little, as he feels should be expected for the group Davoth took control of.
So he asks, “What’s wrong with them?”
“Not a thing, yet, but give it time.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The last incident that led me to a place like this started with the same two things. Being left alone to simmer, then the heavy hitters.”
“What did you do?”
“Hardly matters. Just remember, it was the correct decision.” He next faces the new men and asks, “So, who wants to give the good news first?”
“Got nothing,” says the one on the left. “Gotta wait for the report. Be patient, or that might change if you are too demanding.”
“Fine…” grabbing the tossed chair to pick up and sit down with a grunt. More grumbling about his lost stuff heard as he stares at the floor.
The Slayer glances at the two by the door, his eyes locked on the guard on the right (for what reason, he’s not even sure). Then he turns away, not in the mood to see what this could lead to if he wasn’t careful. Today had been the worst for constant luck. It started with Mars and ended on Earth, continuing another cycle he didn't want to repeat.
But he had a partner this time…
With a sigh, he touches John’s shoulder to make the man raise a brow. In a low voice, telling his only ally, “I’m sorry.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Before. I messed up. Should have been more careful. Caused you to get the circle.”
“Nope, stop speaking.”
“Sorry…”
“Do not—”
“I mean that.”
“And I think the subject should drop.”
“But this was my—”
“Most wait a long time, or let the matter die. Keeps the talk away. Now is not the time for talk, got that?”
“Yeah…” leaning back to stare at the ceiling.
“I hold nothing against you. This was all on me. Should have listened instead of trying to beat the shit out of the bastard. Shake hands with the devil and all that. Still saved my life, so guess you shouldn't worry about it. At all. Trust me.”
The Slayer sits up and looks at the other man, seeing that he was serious. At a loss for the right reply, he nods. Another touch on the shoulder, he has John turn as he says, “You are too forgiving.”
“No, you need to find an escape. And better people who will not make you do that.”
With a second nod, the warrior wonders if he ever would get such a choice. Such a nice dream to keep either way. Not that he could have the chance to fulfill it.
“So, what you said about Sarge…” whispers John. “What did you mean with the circle?”
“Yes, he’s under Davoth’s command. Like us. Don’t know what. Recognize the spells keep people obedient. Who knows how this one functions?”
“What do we do? Just cut the thing out? Or do you got another idea?”
“No clue. Unless we kill him. Most certain method.”
“Yeah… Let’s think about the problem some more. That seems extreme for something so... fragile.”
The Slayer sees the man touch his belly and leans forward. “Don’t think about it. Life is better than a zombie. Or an unwilling. Possessed beings are short-lived. Shit fate.”
“I wasn’t ready to even consider that. Ask me again after discharge.”
“Good. Worked too hard to save you. Owe me that much.”
“Easier done than said, I promise.”
“Then I will say nothing,” sighing as John nods and his expression softens. An honest light in John's eyes as their gazes meet, like this meant something. A slight tilt of the head making it seem more lighthearted in the depressing space.
The small gesture has the Slayer’s heart beat way too fast. This tiny sign was a sucker punch to the gut, knocking the wind from him as he struggles to breathe. Such a genuine emotion cannot be real...
Was this sincere? Or was he only hoping?
So instead of thinking about it too much, the man turns away and drops his head into his hands, tapping a foot to prevent any unnecessary questioning.
Why was he thinking about this? Especially with how he acted when the demons used him on Mars? Really wanted to make the man seethe more than anything.
No, that was the collar. The whole tying John up fucked up his head way too much. None of it was true. Not after all he said.
This marine was safe. Not a threat. Good. Trustworthy... Right?
“Hey, you good?” whispers John, getting way too close to check on the other.
A hot exhale blows on the warrior’s skin, the warmth almost burning when they touch. The Slayer holding his breath as their shoulders brush together. “Yes,” he murmurs, rubbing his face while sitting up.
A loud buzz has the two look over as the guards listen to earpieces. Hands touching the helmets when the marine on the right says, “Understood. We shall begin immediately.” The connection cuts with a beep. A point to the Slayer as he barks, “Slayer, time to talk. Your superior has some questions we need answered.”
“Who?” raising a brow as he wonders why Davoth would choose such an informal method of communication.
“Sargent Kelly. He wants us to ask about a few things.”
“Yeah... About what?” glancing at John as the corporal shrugs and peers at the guards. A small nod telling him to do it.
The Slayer sighs and stands, walking over as both masked men grip their guns for a second. A deep frown at the reaction, they drop their hands. The one who called the warrior over clears his throat, leaning on a foot as he looks him over.
“What do you want?” the Slayer asks, crossing his arms.
The guard chuckles, removing his helmet to show a pale face with piercing blue eyes and a blond buzz cut. The headgear dropped to the floor, he stares at the taller man with a smug grin. “What’s wrong, big boy? You are the one being watched right now. All we require is answers.”
“Ask.”
“Fair enough, Slayer. Quite the nickname you got there. Want to explain how you earned that?”
“No clue, just my name. Is this need—”
“Then what are your skills?”
He snarls at this but says, “I can shoot and operate computers. Killed more people than you. Or have seen.”
“Of course,” glancing at his partner as he nods, a PDA in hand. “Now strip. Need to check for... any secrets.”
“Are you fucking with me?” motioning to the skintight pants that make it impossible to hide a flaccid cock, let alone a weapon, or worse.
“You have an asshole. Take off your clothes and put both hands behind your head. Can bend over and cough after that.”
“What kind of shit—”
“I would listen, Slayer,” the guard says, his irises flashing red when he steps closer and smiles. “This mortal is far more durable than most, so would be quite fitting of experimentation. I bet he could take a lot of abuse before changing into an unwilling.”
And with that, the warrior understands everything. A chill goes down his spine as he looks at the other guard and sees him looking back. Not acting at all shocked by this development, this man straightens and lifts his chin. An unspoken challenge to resist aimed at the Slayer.
The sound of footsteps has him turning around to see the corporal approach. A hand raised to act as a barrier, he says, “John, stay away.”
“What the hell is going on?" he asks. "Why did he say that? And the eye thing?”
“Davoth got to them,” bracing when the other removes his helmet to show a much darker expression. Brown eyes and black brows showing disapproval when he adds, “They are not in control.”
“How little you understand, Slayer,” says the second guard. He steps forward and walks past the warrior, his voice deep and smooth, the words like silk on the ears. It should be comforting when the man laughs, the sound golden. “These mortals give me nothing unless asked. As with all the others, they offer themselves without hesitation. Some just don’t realize it consciously.”
“What are you saying?”
The guard approaches John and puts him in a headlock before either marine can react. A sound of shock from the corporal, the possessed man says, “All I am doing is letting loyal followers get exactly what they want. So behave, or they, and John, will end up like the ones on Mars. Understand?”
“Yeah…” stepping toward the door when a hand touches his chest.
The first guard comes around to give a hungry gaze and grab his collar. A smug grin given just for him, the Slayer's brows furrow when pulled down to be face-to-face.
This guard is far too close when he tilts his head to the side and blinks. Now speaking in a husky voice, he says, “That’s a good boy,” and pulls the Slayer into a rough kiss.
The Slayer’s strength washes away, falling to his knees to grab the one feeding on his energy. His mind goes blank as he is too stunned to process what is happening. The soft moan that escapes when it ends having his shoulders fall as the hand lets go, and he watches the other lick his lips. Another whisper of “Good boy” making his face grow flushed. For a moment, too cross-eyed to notice John staring at him.
The one who kissed him says to hurry or the other marine would get sent back to Mars. And will receive a new assignment to do research on the demons there.
The warrior glares but gets up on shaking legs and leans on a wall to strip off the single piece of clothing. The second skin is gone for everything to hang out as he tosses them on a chair. A deep frown showing as he gestures for them to start.
But all the guards do is take in the sight and let out the loudest whistles and howls. A laugh from the first, he motions over to his partner, John soon kneeling at cock level as they all stare. His arms forced behind his back, the corporal’s arms get fettered with pairs of white connected circles. Next, bent over for his legs to receive the same treatment. The two guards facing forward again as they yank his head around to do the same.
The first scratches his chin, saying, “Well fuck me, didn’t know this new boss had a more secure taste… Most go for something that would make a better wart. If I was able…”
“Yep,” nods the second, “look at those things. A pair of grapefruits are hanging off that veiny forearm. I couldn’t if I tried. Would fucking die.”
“No kidding. Imagine having that in town. Would get so many hungry fuckers to worship that horse-sized cock.”
“Oh, yeah…” a small smile going well with a slow lick of the lips. “That would send even the biggest whore to the hospital. Though I heard a few have,” glancing at John.
“What?” is all the Slayer says as he squints at the guards. A hand moves to cover himself when the first grabs his wrist and shakes his head. Again asking, “What?”
“Nah, we ain’t done here. Gotta tell me, how many do you get a week? There is no way he doesn’t use you as some kind of bribe with more powerful followers. Not with your assets.”
The Slayer crosses his arms, not saying a word as he waits for this search to start. The sooner this begins, the sooner he can forget it happened. His face is blank as he looks at both, daring one to approach.
Blue eyes light up as the first guard steps forward, having him turn around. The warrior now bent forward to more sounds of approval. An order to place his hands on the wall, a powerful pair open his legs with too much ease. Right before they split his cheeks and grope the globes. Next, a finger runs over the rim so it opens a little as sparks dance over the spot. A few more touches promising something to the entrance as it quivers.
Now the molester asks the Slayer, “So I am going to guess this is the spot? It's not what I imagined, but I’m fine as long as this is tight and warm. Which seems to be the case...”
“What are you doing?” yells John. Right before the sound of a fist connecting with something fleshy hits the others' ears. The blows echo in the room several times. Each time hearing a grunt before it stops, and he groans.
The first guard laughing, he says, “Don’t be so rude, private, when you can’t even fight. Besides, you must be wondering what this hole looks like for the breeding to work. Should we see what’s in there? You must be wondering what the new boss did.”
Without waiting for an answer, two fingers slip inside the Slayer and pull the muscle open with a violent motion. The man bellows as the hold remains and he bends over to ignore the agony. Sharp breaths making him quake as he hopes that this was quick. Davoth had allowed this, and he could not leave. There had to be a reason for it, and he knew who would end up happy no matter the ending.
His back arches as his ass gets spread wider, and the three make various sounds of shock. John is the loudest, with several expressions with varying degrees of emphasis on the word fuck . A pair of feet then approach as the other guard sticks his hand in and feels around. Second-knuckle deep when he finds the fork, sticking a digit in each tunnel to stroke the closed-off birth canal.
“What the shit?" asks the second guard. "He wasn’t kidding about the two tunnels. There is one right on top of the other! Dang, ain’t fixing what ain’t broken in there. Looks like he was born with it.”
“Might as well be with how he acts. But that just makes it easier to pick a fantasy. Not missing as much as I feared, huh?” both men leaving as his hole remains agape, grasping at nothing as it takes its time closing. As if waiting for the hands to return.
“Speak for yourself about that shit,” says the other, as it sounds like he’s retreating. A dull thump coming from the other end of the room before a chair scrapes over the floor.
The Slayer tries to turn around when his guard grabs the collar and says, “Hey, I don’t remember saying you could move.”
He doesn’t speak when his arms shake, his frame slumped when his body falls, and he’s caught by the guard. Who seems to not mind the sudden dead weight as he titters and spins the warrior to face the rest of the room. Forced to kneel, his head gets wrenched to the side to witness a sight that sends a chill down his spine.
John lies on the ground, his clothes in pieces all around him as the second guard makes him get on his knees. A threat comes from the corporal when a hand touches the circle, and he stops mid-sentence. The words dying on his lips as his posture slumps and his eyes cloud over, eyelids lowering so it looks like he’s ready to sleep. A dumb smile shows as he laughs and opens his mouth while the other unzips and pulls out a soft cock. With a groan, the shaft slips inside his parted lips as slow thrusts force the shaft inside, quiet moans from both filling the space. The warrior shakes as a pair of hands grab the back of John’s skull, and the pace speeds up, listening to him gag and choke while grinning.
The Slayer whips his head around and growls, “Let him go! I’m the one to fuck. I am Davoth’s… vessel to use.”
“Why is that important? There are two of us. Don’t be so selfish,” pulling the breeder closer to touch the stone before slamming him to the ground.
The lust takes over by the time the Slayer braces for impact. A grunt escapes as his entire front collides with the hard floor, pain exploding from his head and shoulders. But the man can’t help but laugh when he’s again lifted. A rough push has him pinned to the wall as he is told to open his legs; obeying without a thought as the other gets between the quivering thighs. Not a moment is wasted shoving a finger into the hole to start slow, getting a few sounds as he toys with the collared marine, seeing what makes him react. The hand goes a little faster when the Slayer hums; soon making him moan when the other arm joins in to stroke his cock.
With a shudder at the size of it in his fist, the guard begins a second assault on the breeder, jerking him off.
Both arms speed up when blood rushes to engorge the head, the slit leaking as the Slayer lets out a loud moan, his jaw slack as the attacker leans in. Chest to chest as hot breaths blow on the perked nipples, the tits bouncing with every shiver as the warm air hits oversensitive skin. A soft praise for the face the Slayer makes, they are now so close their lips brush together.
A whine is his only response—though it’s silenced as they kiss again. His mind goes blank as this starts rough and stays needy, hungry. These strange crude motions sending his body to a level of arousal the marine was not used to from most followers—or demons. The pure desire of the guard to get what he wants was just as delicious as a hell knight or baron pinning him down to begin without warning. Such painful and demanding actions making him wrap an arm around the guard and grab his belt when they rip apart. Panting at the heat that paints his flush face a bright red, he bites a lip while whimpering, bucking in the fist when his frame jolts with electricity.
The guard slows his hands before removing both altogether. Next, tracing the arm that holds them close, praising the breeder’s power and lust. The Slayer opens his mouth to beg when a thigh grinds on his hard cock, feeling the head twitch against the strong muscles. A groan far better at expressing what he needs.
The guard smiles at the reaction, rubbing a palm on the Slayer’s girth to make it throb against his leg. “There we go, good boy. Seems you can behave with persuasion. Are you ready? Or should I ask your friend instead? He has two holes for a reason.”
The Slayer shakes his head and gives a slow grind on the man, lifting his other arm to grab the guard’s waist. A quick adjustment getting him on his knees, he finds the zipper to the tan pants and undoes the crotch. The second it’s open, latching his lips on the swelling shaft covered by thin underwear. A look up at the other with big eyes, he pleads for more as he mouths the cock, still getting friction from a leg as he leaks onto the floor.
This has the one watching grin and fist some hair, yanking him off to flash a toothy smile. “Nice try, but I will not let someone so submissive play games,” pulling the warrior away as he gasps. “I also dislike sloppy jobs that rely more on desperation over skill. Fucking disgusting. Now open your fucking legs and say how much you love this cock fucking you. Don’t hold back, boy, or you’re not getting anything.”
“Yeah…” his body pressed against the wall as he obeys and watches the guard pull down both his waistbands to reveal a nice-sized dick. Not a baron or Davoth by any means, but he still wanted it like when with John.
A hand on the Slayer’s hip, he spreads even more when the other man strokes his own hard shaft. The guard sighing as his palm smears crystal drops from both men on the length. Pure need in the pair when he stops with a final tug, fisting the base to line up with the waiting hole. The second he touches the rim, he slams into the breeder with a grunt.
The Slayer moans at the feeling of something filling him. Mouth open to groan when it pulls out. Then shuts up when the guard punches his way back in, biting the inside of a cheek as the girth begins rough and stays that way. As if they had to be done fast, sharp breaths and cruel thrusts echo in the room. The warrior smiles as he pants, listening to the grunts of the other when he increases his pace.
“What did I say?” the guard snaps. “I dislike quiet!”
A shudder at the harsh words, he murmurs, “Good… Fuck.” A spark makes him shake. “Don’t… fuck!” Another jolt of electricity gets him to grab his own cock, repeating the last word over and over as the other stares.
“Damn, boy…” never slowing as he bucks his hips to earn a loud yelp of surprise. Right after grabbing a knee in each hand to lift, having the Slayer on his back to speed up, hearing the choked sounds of incoherent begging of the breeder. The words flowing from his lips with zero logic to make the man above grin. Who just says as he leans in, “Yeah, that’s better.”
The Slayer shuts his eyes and howls as his arm becomes a blur across the shaft. As soon as he ends the sound, spilling all over. Even after all he did, he still drenches both as the one hilt deep inside laughs, doing his best to fuck the rest out. A few good hits to the right spot have the hand stop as the last rockets out on the guard’s ribs. Then going limp when he’s empty; hard breathing and heaving sides to signal his finish as he lets his body flop. His girth falling onto his stomach as he groans.
Such a pathetic position keeps him from seeing what happens after. With a few more painful punches to his insides, the cock rips out, and he hears grunting. Then a groan, far less come hitting his lap as he turns and beams. Their gazes meet when he sees some hit his ass, rolling over to get more on his hip and crack. The last drops dribbling on the back of sticky thighs.
“Oh, that is perfect,” purrs the other man, the Slayer seeing him squeeze a little out on a messy leg. “Yeah, that’s a good boy. You better take all my come.” A few more moans slipping out as he lets the shaft fall, he adds, “And look who wants to join in,” pointing to the second guard and a shaking John.
The corporal quakes as he walks, his feet finding it difficult to find footing. His limbs are free as he latches onto the man who captured his undivided attention; his eyes alight with adoration for the one who facefucked him. Bruised lips and sticky thighs on full display when ordered to kneel beside the laid-down Slayer. The two marines are ecstatic with this command, grinning at the order.
John hurries over, helping the bigger marine to sit up while he gawks at the mess. A hand reaching out to touch the warm flesh, taking some of the come to lick. The Slayer scoops some off, slipping the finger in the other’s mouth. Just staring as the abused hole accepts the gift with a smile while both cocks react. Green eyes closed, slow licks clean the digit. A hand grasping the thick wrist to better lap up everything as he groans.
The second guard claps, having the two marines on the ground stop to look. “Hmmm, if I had known this is what they would do, I’d have done more. Alright, Slayer, my turn,” a fist grabbing the collar to make him stand in the middle of the floor. A whimper at the force used, he quiets down once the other finds his crack and opens him wide. The muscle reacting when something thick and warm pushes on it. A hand on a cheek, the warrior spreads his legs and ass in a silent plea for this to be rough.
“Good, you know how to shut up,” this guard says, slipping a finger in to play with his rim. “Had to fuck your friend’s throat raw to learn. Keep quiet, and I’ll make you come too.”
The Slayer nods and lets the other arm contort his body to the desired position. A hard pull on the collar ensuring he didn't move too much as this happens. Right after, he’s bent forward so his hands are flat on the ground. A shaky breath let out to adjust. Another digit slips inside, making him quiver when it grinds on the hungry hole. His already twitching cock swelling back to life, the slit dripping on the floor. The guard notices the reaction and chuckles, slipping in a third as the other hand pushes on the Slayer’s spine.
“There we are…” he whispers, going until the breeder cannot help but let out a whine. Then the hands retreat, and he says, “Hmmm, guess you need me to fuck you already? Is that what you desire? Gotta have a cock in there, or you can’t finish? Or do you know your place? You can respond. I want to hear what you think.”
“I’m a good breeder… Make me come and fill me. Crave your seed. That's it.”
“Goddamn, the venerable leader fucked you right! Bet you wanna get bred too?” Howling with laughter when the Slayer sways his hips for an answer.
And with that, he slaps an ass cheek and parts the globes, spitting on the rim. The warmth makes it open as the head rubs over the hole, accepting this more impressive girth without resistance. The tunnel walls still slick with come, the entire length soon slips inside as both groan and the guard gives a few light thrusts. Another sound from the warrior when it pulls out. He gasps as it grinds on his insides with a measured pace. The Slayer’s twitching as it begins slower than the other, just watching the ground as he pushes his hips back. The hands controlling this are quick to grab his sides, speeding up to get some friction.
Then moving even faster as the marine matches the thrusts, riding the cock as the other bends forward to keep the breeder in his place. The strange position was not one the Slayer was used to. Though he doesn’t care when his shoulders shake with each stab to his guts. Or when his head spins until he forces himself to look up, gasping for air as hot breaths blow on his back. The fact the other now goes fast enough for his balls to smack and their thighs to slap together is perfect. Panting and moaning as he only listens to the man fucking him, happy when he’s told to continue moving, was getting another kid when this was over.
The Slayer titters at this, leaning forward when the guard puts more weight on top of him. Such a thought is erotic when he knows what this means, the fantasy of it all making his cock throb, spilling more crystal drops on the ground. A bite of the lips when the man saying such things reaches between his legs to find the breeder’s taint. A rough finger timing it just right, pushing the soft spot at the same time as his dick finds the gland. An explosion of energy rips through his body. A blinding flash of need forcing his mouth to open and yell like an animal in heat. His muscles all clenched, he hardly cares when the other groans from the tight grip on his shaft.
Or when he’s fucked faster, the fast pace too much for him to remain quiet. Screams burst from his lips for the guard to make him come, needs more. Howling when his prostate gets abused in response, the head below almost gushing his excitement when the other orders him to shut up.
But he is too lost in the lust, instead getting more vocal like many loved. Jaws slack and mind fuzzy when he begs.
This only makes his user growl and pull out, making him scream for it to return. A punch to the spine knocks him to the ground to cry out, the other already holding his head down as he climbs on top. The hole once more filled with cock. He moans at the harsh return when the other quits caring about his dick, too focused on his own. A hand covers the Slayer’s mouth, silencing any noise as the guard’s grunts fill the room. The pace becoming uneven when his breathing gets sharper, and the fingers tighten their grip. A final groan is all the warrior hears when the fucking stops, and something warm spills inside. A whimper escapes as a few light thrusts help the bigger load coat his insides. Next stiffening when the shaft pulls out, more leaking between his thighs.
The guard chuckles and stands, flipping the Slayer onto his back to say, “Shit, that’s good, needed that. Shame you can’t be of more service. Haven’t gotten to have this kind of fun in a while. Not that you would know what that feels like. To wait for a decent fuck.”
“I could do more,” rising to lap up the come that sticks to the softening member. “Still here to… do whatever you want. Can use my mouth.”
“You will do anything to get off, huh?” grabbing the warrior’s face. “Bet that gets your lord to breed some sense into that empty fucking skull. That help the cock-obsessed breeder behave?”
“Yeah…”
“Nah, I’m done with you. I don’t reward noisy breeders who disobey. And I do not negotiate with a knocked-up fucktoy that begs.” The hold tightens, blunt nails digging into the thin skin as the brood-stallion whines, not daring to pull away.
“But—”
“No, you pay for an orgasm. And that little act means you get nothing from me.”
The Slayer shuts his mouth and nods, letting a fist grab his collar and drag him back to the other two. The warrior and his user watch as John is held against the first guard’s chest as he stands on his toes, not moving as he gets railed. Screams to not stop answered with vigor, virile sounds of his ass turning into a sloppy mess all they hear over the moans. A hand on his shaft, he’s choked when the other notices, telling him to say it right or not finish, wasn’t told to act coy. With a crack in his voice, John gags when an especially harsh thrust punches his insides, and the guard stops. Both shaking as a few light thrusts tell who was allowed to enjoy this round. The slow pull-out earns a whimper from the used corporal as he is let go and falls to the ground. Thick come leaking out as the standing man fists his cock and takes in the sight.
“All you had to do was listen,” the guard says. “Now look at you, boy. Nothing for ya. Shame.”
“I will do better…” he groans, sitting up with a grunt. “Make me come, and I’ll suck your cock. Or you can fuck my throat. I have—”
“Shut the fuck up,” grabbing John’s arm. “I need something to tide me over until I get into town this week. So, let me jerk off and show the Slayer that new trick, okay? Bet he would love to feel you seated on his dick. Might do something. Because I sure as fuck ain't.”
John’s expression lights up, pulling free as they release his chosen user. His eyes dancing with stars and arms open wide, he approaches to get grabbed, tittering when a large hand caresses his chest. Then gasping when the Slayer fists his cock, giving the length a few strokes. John is quick to do the same in return before turning to press up against the massive head told to ravage his hole. The tip slipping between the globes to massage until he’s pulled off and spun around. Both staring at each other with a smile, the Slayer grabs the other's face and kisses him deep, getting a taste of everyone when he explores the smaller man. His hands sliding down the athletic body, he asks between gasps if John’s sure about this. Remembering last time, he wants to be careful to not ruin the sex with too much blood this round. The other nodding as he spreads his legs to accept a couple of fingers after the two separate.
And the Slayer cannot help but smile as he sees the other is slick from being used. The come that fills the hole helps him slide in as John moans, the corporal pushing down to fit more inside. A shudder at being filled, he tells the warrior he’s ready, having the tips grind on the tunnel.
“You sure?” the Slayer asks, pulling out to hear a whine. “I can…”
“No, fuck now. Do it, breeder, need to come. Can’t think of anything but this. Fuck… just hurry. Fuck, fuckkkkkk… Start, or I’ll have to... find someone, one else. Dammit, do not ask again. Get going.”
“Yeah, you need this,” fisting his cock to have John smile and kneel. A hand pushing him to the ground, the warrior lays the other on his back, spreading both muscular legs until the corporal’s hole comes into view. The Slayer smiles at the sight as he sees sticky skin inside the thighs, fingering the rim as he says, “Get ready.”
“Oh, fuck…” lifting his knees to show the entrance better. “Please, just do it. Want to come… yeah, fill me. If you do not—”
The threat gets cut off with a howl when the fat glans slam inside. Already slick, the tip goes into the heated hole with far more ease than last time. The tight tunnel still squeezing the massive shaft, he accepts it with less screaming. The only warmth being come as John’s eyes roll back, and his head falls to the side, his entire body shaking as he breathes hard. All of his face and chest flush, he stares at the cock his ass takes without issue, glancing at the Slayer when hilt deep.
“You love this better?” the warrior asks, groaning at the heat that envelops his girth. A smile grows on his lips when he gets a nod and says, “Yeah, feels great now. Less blood is nice.”
“So big,” John replies. “Please…” reaching up to pull them together for another kiss.
And like he flipped a switch, the Slayer begins. From the second they collide and their tongues explore, the marines forget about anything but the one they hold. Rough grunts and soft sighs fill the room as the man on top is far more gentle this time, watching as John conforms to his body. Listening to the other moan in his mouth as he teases and fondles the corporal, keeping a steady pace as his cock opens the tight hole with every thrust. The sounds the other makes ensure he behaves, not daring to ruin the round when he hears a groan and pulls back to see clear drops leak from the smaller girth. John’s stomach shines from what pools in his abs. The sculpted muscle and heaving sides drawing him back to search the rest of the smaller marine with the same vigor.
The pace speeds up when he’s told to not stop, the man underneath groaning when the warrior obeys. Their skin slaps together as the current bottom grabs his own dick, keeping in stride with the breeder. The fog of lust taking both when the Slayer chuckles and bites the crook of John’s neck. The teeth leave a mark that he kisses and licks, seeing how this makes the hand below go faster.
And the Slayer goes the same speed. The sight underneath only causes the warrior to crave more. To stain the other with come. The image of a load painting the man with seed having him search for any place that would help with such a goal. White ropes needed to dirty the corporal. This desire is like a call to battle as he attacks, and attacks hard. Sounds of pure bliss fill his ears while finding a soft bit of flesh on his throat, marking the spot until John groans and pulls him off.
In a husky voice, the smaller man says, “No, not there,” yanking the lips back to his as they close their eyes, moaning when the tongue returns. He draws it in deeper, the hand on his cock shaking the men as he loses a steady rhythm.
And the Slayer is not at all surprised when John stops and grunts in the other marine’s mouth. The shudder of a powerful orgasm only causes the Unchained Predator to growl when his dick gets squeezed hard enough to make a weaker man finish in seconds. Though he’s close when the warm come hits his abs and chest. The feeling of such a good job makes his heart race as he ends the kiss to watch. A ravenous stare at the mess he created as John sucks in much-needed air, his eyes crossed as he lies there. Rolling his head to the side to give a last stroke, and let go. A hand lifting to touch the Slayer’s breasts.
And if the tight hole brought him to the edge, this sends him over. The pinch of a pert nipple is like pressing a button. It is the tipping point to finish right then and there. A low groan and he spills into the corporal’s ass, shooting far more than the guards to drench the man. And he cannot stop the sharp buck that ensures he’s hilt deep when dumping his massive load.
John howls with laughter, hurrying to clench and have more pumped into his guts. A hand pushing back loose locks to see his belly pulse as the enormous cock gives him all the seed he wanted. Shaking fingers help more get milked out, smiling as he plays with the sac. Eager fingers calling for the balls to empty everything inside. Biting his lip as he lowers his eyelids and whispers praises, having more paint his walls in white. The Slayer soon finishes, pulling out to let his load gush onto the floor. The stretched muscle no longer able to close, the gaping rim cannot ebb the river of come. And as the watching warrior grins, he rolls the man over, playing with the loose hole for a moment.
Then he stops, his ear perking at the familiar sound of pleased men getting off. A look around the room, he finds the guards got what they wanted from the two. Their mouths open to pant and let out sharp exhales, their fists stroke rock-hard cocks, the red tips and shafts like a beacon for the breeder. His face lights up when he sees them use both hands for more friction. His mind grows blank as he stares at the wondrous display, showing his body is for the pair with open arms.
And neither seems to hate the plan, one announcing he’s close. Unsure which man says it, the warrior cannot do a thing before the first thick rope hits his tits, or when more comes from both sides right after. His body a mere target for the orgasms, both guards paint him white. Hot seed his reward for such an outstanding performance. And all the incentive he needs to keep this idea in mind for next time. Now beaming as the last shoots onto his thighs, the men put their cocks away after making sure their balls are empty.
The two marines watch as the guards approach, tilting their heads to see what will happen. The Slayer showing his disapproval with a snarl when John gets put in a headlock by the first guard.
What were they doing with him? He might pass out and ruin the whole thing. Then what would Davoth do if they failed and got no more? Or worse? He can’t get stripped of breeder status! Then he would lose the lord and his touch…
The racing thoughts have him ready to stand, his mouth twisting with a sad frown. About to speak when he hears something from behind. Any protest dying after the second guard grabs his collar. As one, the two guards push the stone and circle, ending the fun while they drop the men and exit the room. The doorway shut before either of their tired fucktoys can get up and chase them down.
The Slayer sits there, unsure of what to do. A look around the space, he waits for the door to open again or a portal to appear. A tense minute of silence having him assume they would be alone before he gets to his feet. His shoulders fall when he finds his pants, holding them close as he refuses to put them on. The fabric too dirty to bother wearing when it would somehow lead to a tool of humiliation—he had no clue how but just knew it would.
The sound of a shaky breath has him turn to see John shiver and find his destroyed clothes. A quivering hand lifts a tattered piece to his face, glaring at the jagged cuts and ripped fabric. With a slow blink, he looks at the other pieces littering the ground, pushing some hair back with a growl. The scrap chucked aside; he avoids the staring Doom Slayer to focus on a wall.
“Are you okay?” asks the Slayer, coming closer until he sees the man shrink away.
“Just great,” wiping an eye. “Yeah, fucking thrilled to be here.”
“Listen, about the circle—”
“Don’t say it.”
“How else—”
“That doesn’t matter! It’s all so sharp. Is that normal? That I wanted this? All I could think about was pleasing the bastards. My mind has never been so focused, clear on a goal. I had no control. That was stronger than any drug I’ve heard of.”
“Yeah, sounds right. It still hurts… when I use the collar… Never gets easier.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“No. But I’ll try to help. Any way I can. Promise,” reaching out to touch a shoulder.
John accepts the gesture, leaning in to make sure it stays longer. A glance at the fingers when they leave, he blinks and turns away, refusing to respond anymore when the hand falls to the Slayer’s side. Neither speaking about this any further as they avert their gazes.
Only turning when the door opens, and Kelly walks inside. A glare at the older man, the warrior faces him but stays on the ground, bracing for any assault. Absolutely still, he sees the small metal drum the Sergeant holds before he splashes both in a purple liquid. A yell when doused in the stuff, the pair are told to not move. Another splash making sure it covered them before the fluid washes away the come and sweat to pool on the floor. Clean and dry, their superior sets the container down and sighs. An exhausted look aimed at the fighters, he raises his hand to have a portal open and catch a pile of folded clothes. The clothing held close to the chest as he motions them over.
“Marines,” Kelly says, leaning on one foot, “you have rested enough. Time to meet your team and understand your duties. Get dressed and follow me,” handing each marine a fresh outfit.
Both similar to what John had lost, they slip on the attire to tail the Sergeant down the hall. The marines side by side, they stay behind but close to the other man. A wide breath held for all three as they ignore the stares and gawking staff. Such things are nothing new for the warrior, and he sees John and Kelly don't seem to care about the negative attention.
The Slayer uses this time to get familiar with this UAC, noting that this place is just as… cramped. Though he must admit, the mass of bodies and staring faces is better than the rubble and corpses he left behind on both Mars. Plus, the lack of demons is nice. Then wondering how long that would last when turning a corner to stop at an unassuming door.
Kelly pulls out his PDA and holds it over the screen next to the doorway, the display flashing green to open. A glance at the men, he says they should now have clearance and usher them inside. A step over the threshold reveals that this room is just as tight and caged as the rest of the facility. Along both walls sits small beds and thin blankets to show this is where they would rest, the pillows more decoration than comfort telling him enough. The sleep quarters feeling even more lacking when the Slayer compares it to his bedroom back at the palace. He wonders if his old lord provided such bare necessities for his fighters, but cannot recall—feeling thankful in the unknown. Strolling forward, he notes that most beds had signs of use, save the two in the corner, which were not made at all.
A look at the farthest wall, he notes the orange cluster. At last, forced to acknowledge the huddle of men on the other side when he sees one glance at them. More looking over a shoulder when Kelly clears his throat, breaking up the secret circle.
A couple of men now approach, letting the Slayer see they are smaller than John and wear different uniforms. These are less practical for a marine, seeing it comprises of loose-fitting orange jumpsuits with long sleeves. Despite the apparent difference in roles, they stand tall when facing Kelly. The two parties exchanging curt greetings while shaking hands.
“Sergeant,” says the man with a more alert posture, his uniform pressed and without a single wrinkle.
“Cody…” he replies, crossing his arms. “I brought the new technician they emailed us about. However, I need you to get both acquainted with how things work around here.”
“And I asked before, who's doing what? I am still waiting for the files I requested on the same day.”
“And as I said last time, someone will send copies when the folder is located. Neither should be an issue in the interim.”
“Answer the question, Kelly.”
He points to the bigger marine and says, “Slayer is your new tech to train. Should be easy, has experience and built a complex system for a previous assignment.”
“Slayer…” looking at the hulking warrior with a raised brow. “You sure he’s trained for this type of machinery?”
“My superior was insistent he takes this role. It is for safety, and to ensure he fulfills other duties.”
“As long as there’s more hands,” says the second man, his expression seeming far less concerned. His eyelids lowered and posture relaxed when he continues with, “Can we be sure he won’t do anything to cause issues? Gotta know he’s safe to work, Sarge.”
“He’ll do whatever you say, as any respectable marine should. The other will ensure he doesn’t get interrupted or wander.”
“Good enough for me,” shrugging as he looks at the person they were talking about. “So, they call you Slayer?”
“Yes…” crossing his arms.
“No need to be like that. Just asking questions. I’m the fun but fair one out of the two. Cody is the one that rides your ass if you don’t do a decent job.”
“He does?” seeing the mentioned man roll his eyes; the warrior stiffening when Cody scratches a thigh.
The other laughs, “Yeah, no doubt. So do jobs right the first time, or else.”
“Yes, understood.”
“Great. Anyway, my name’s Shawn, and I’m the guy who is going to save your hide if things go wrong. If it’s not your fault, of course. You’re not getting any grace if you fuck up too much.”
“I’ll try not to.”
“That’s all I ask,” shrugging as he looks at John. “Know anything about computers?”
The man shakes his head. “Just how to connect to a PDA.”
“Great, then I should say this right now. Don’t touch a thing, or I will get angry, and not even Sarge will interfere if you piss me off. Got that?” flashing a wide grin.
“And the day I am made to touch one is the day I remind you why I am a marine. Got that?”
“Marine…” says Kelly, looking at the man with clenched fists. “Do I need to point out why you are in this situation?”
“No, sir.”
“Don’t fuck this up either, or else. Respect these machines better than your last superior, and I will stay at arm’s length, understand?”
“Just remember, sir, I would be doing a favor by killing you.”
“And you might join the Slayer in his additional duties with such an attitude. I can ask a certain someone to let me hold you down. The surgery has to be done without any drugs for success.”
“I understand, sir,” snarling as he speaks.
“Good, then I’ll be on my way. Do not give me a reason to return,” exiting the room without another word or glance in their direction.
“So, that was fun,” chuckles Shawn, “but I am with Sarge. Except the last part... I have no interest in whatever he was threatening.”
“Listen, you don’t seem like the kind of person to commit any war crimes. And until someone inspires you to change that fact, your ass is safe. Sarge is well aware of that very important fact.”
“Then we are all good. Not interested in doing any serious genocides as far as I know. Unless computer bugs count.” Again laughing when John shakes his head, he pulls out a PDA and excuses himself from the room.
Cody sighs and glances at the door, rubbing a temple when he turns back. In a calm tone saying, “Listen, I will keep this simple. We train tomorrow, so get a look at the layout of the entire facility tonight. Shawn and I are aware of your medical needs, Slayer, so can plan accordingly when things arise. But until then, do the work and nothing more. And John, the attitude with Kelly won’t be tolerated at all. We ensure the operation is streamlined by not dealing with unnecessary distractions.”
John crosses his arms and raises a brow, but remains quiet despite the glare aimed at the supervisor.
The Slayer sees him clench his fingers as they grip an arm. The nails digging into his skin, the bigger marine speaks to change the subject. “How much do you know, Cody?”
“Enough to understand when we must lessen the workload, but what that means will depend. Are you sure Kelly sent the right guy here? Most marines are careless with computers.”
This has the man nod, and some light returns to his eyes when he tells about the Praetor suit and the computer built for VEGA in Hell. In no way holding back when talking about assembling custom pieces, adding he made the entire system to house the complex AI. The lack of a smile on Cody’s part is ignored when he mentions foraging a whole blade for his armor. Including more on the methods to work the weapon with the onboard CPU.
But the other man shakes his head and scowls at these boasts, cutting the marine off when he talks about building a forage running on argent energy. In a low voice, warning him, “Listen, I can see how you lied your way out of duties with Kelly saying that bullshit. But if you want to stay here, we are doing actual work. No AI like that exists here, or anywhere, and saying one does will mean more hours doing basic repairs.”
The Slayer falters and blinks, lowering his gaze to the floor when he nods.
“Good. Time to prove you got the proper aptitude for this place.”
“Yeah, better than just being pregnant,” touching his stomach when the other tilts his head. The arm quick to fall to the side at this attention.
“Great, enjoy what hours are left in the day. I have paperwork to fill out, so talk to Shawn if you have questions, unless it’s an emergency.” And with a look at the two, he turns and walks away.
“Hey, don’t let it get to you,” says John, patting the Slayer's shoulder. “We all need to deal with hard asses. Either they soften up, or you leave a couple of small explosives under their cot. Just to scare some sense into them, nothing more.”
“Nah, I’ll be fine.”
“Okay, you’re choice. Cody is the boss here.”
“I will survive. But what about you? What was Sergeant Kelly saying? With the old superior?”
“Oh, that... Yeah, they transferred me to Mars the day the demons attacked. Which might have happened… because I beat the shit out of my commanding officer. Because he told me to shoot a bunch of civilians. And threatened to demote me for refusing. He’s very lucky all I did was put him in a full-body cast for asking to commit a war crime. Murder would’ve been a better decision, considering the outcome for being so merciful.”
The Slayer smiles and chuckles, patting the man on the back. “I see why the oracle chose… chose you. Too bold to die, right? Or something else?”
“Possibly. But either way, I need to sleep. No amount of naps…” yawning as he stretches and pats a thigh. Stopping when the Slayer glances away. He now says, “I am laying down. Wake me up if anyone tries to start shit. Sound good?”
“Yeah, sounds perfect.” The man scratches his chest, watching the corporal unfold the bedding on one of the unclaimed beds. About to do the same when the door opens, and a fully armored marine walks into the room.
The man looks around the room, passing over the technicians to stop on the Slayer. A peek at his PDA, the stranger unclips a bag from his armor and asks, “Are you Flynn Taggart?” walking over.
“No?”
Another check. He reads the screen and laughs. “Sorry, my bad, that was the previous assignment. Slayer?” Continuing when he receives a nod, he hands over the sack and says, “Good, Sarge asked me to deliver this. Said it was everything you needed. You can keep the bag, but you gotta tell me how you got a nickname—especially one like that—in the system.”
“It’s not a nickname, but thanks,” dumping the contents on the last empty bed.
Looking at the folded clothes, all he received were the usual skimpy underwear and shirts, along with a couple of jumpsuits and an extra marine uniform. The long favored white padded tops from the other Earth come into view before he pushes them aside, uncovering a PDA and a transparent bottle with a clear substance. The device ignored, he grabs the strange container to open and sniff, finding it’s scentless. A shake sloshes the mysterious mixture around, but this reveals nothing except it acts akin to water. Which means he would have to wait for answers, tossing the liquid by the pillow to deal with later.
“Is that all you needed?” asks the delivery marine, his expression hidden by the helmet when he stares at the bag’s spilled contents. “Is this the right stuff?”
“Yeah, should be.”
“Of course,” coughing as he hurries from the room without another word. The last glance he gives the Slayer brushed off as the warrior growls to himself.
But that changes when the man hears whispers across the space, rushing to put the clothes back in the sack. One hand stuffing a white top in a pants pocket, he shoves the rest under the bed and looks around. A raised brow at the gawking men, he curls his hands into fists and glares, seeing most avert their eyes under the harsh stare. A couple glancing at the white fabric falling out of his pocket when he turns away and removes his shirt. Not in the mood for conversation when John sits up and shakes his head.
The Slayer balls up the piece of clothing and gazes back. “What?”
“Not the best at being friendly to strangers, are you? How are they different from me?”
“Not chosen by a spell. And stare too much.”
“Right…” pointing at the top the Slayer pulls out.
“This keeps my chest comfortable. They get annoying otherwise. Leak a lot… between the children’s feedings. If too far apart.”
“Hey, I’m not here to judge. Too much anyway. Bet you look fine in a sports bra.”
“So that’s what it’s called,” slipping the thing on. The familiar tightness helpful as he is careful to put both breasts inside without spilling milk on the floor.
“See, told ya. You are dressed like a billion bucks. But, yeah, that’s what the last guy I knew said. The comfort part, at least. Not the milk part at all. Doesn't help he wasn’t pregnant, so... The man just liked it for workouts.”
“There a lot of men like that on base?”
“Nah, but none will ever be close to you in that department. Hard to repeat that procedure.”
“Fair enough,” adjusting the front to have it fit right.
John laughs and pulls out his PDA, showing the screen. “Want me to show you how it works tomorrow? It’s vital to get anything done.”
“Yeah, thanks,” grabbing the one on his bed. As he scans the buttons, he can’t help but notice how his large fingers dwarf the device. “Seems like a piece of junk. Old, poor design.”
“Maybe, but it is the best we got.”
“No AI. No touch screen…”
John shrugs, putting his own under the pillow. He looks ready to speak again when a beep comes from the Slayer’s PDA. A hand out to accept the machine, he taps a few buttons and shows a message. “Lucky fellow. Sarge has a task for you.”
“What…” leaning in to read that he has a new order from Davoth sent through the Sergeant’s email. The whole thing brief, all that matters is he must see an on-site doctor tomorrow morning. Failure to show up would lead to a more robotic examination.
With a sigh, he takes back the PDA and sits on his bed. The screen stays on as he continues to stare at the words for a moment longer, not really reading the words as he repeats the instructions in his head. Then he shuts it off and lays down. A look at the ceiling, he remains quiet as he wonders if he should be worried about so many walking around the shared sleeping quarters.
But when he double-checks, he sees the rest are in the middle of winding down. Another long exhale having him stand up to make the bed. Soon under the thin blanket to hear men get comfortable as he finds it impossible to do the same. The soft breathing that comes with their slumber not helping at all. As with many nights on the other Earth and Immora, they leave him to spend the hours that follow alone with his own thoughts.
Such a place best left alone, he makes sure all are slumbering and walks out of the room. The halls are far more empty now, the entire area as deserted as the Mars base. And the perfect conditions to obey Cody’s orders to explore the building. With his PDA in hand, it was about time to discover what this key could unlock. And what might be of use to him later…
A final peer at the sleeping quarters he leaves behind, he hurries for the next door that will grant him access. The lights and sounds of the many screens are his only company at this hour. Just how he liked it.
Notes:
Well, I guess it's time to guess what will happen next for our marines, and who will be the next group to enjoy some of our hungry breeder and his new toy! Like maybe a familiar face to the story... (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) (✿◡‿◡)
But no matter what you think, I love to hear from you all and feedback is always welcome. I love comments and ideas, and am always happy to read them.
Chapter 6: A Lesson In Manners
Summary:
John finally meets Baal, which leads to him asking some important questions. Then he tries to punch Davoth in the face, again. Both take it better than last time.
The Slayer confesses to his partner. This does not end like he expected. At all.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Of all the things to wake up to, a low moan is not in the top ten. Or something John ever expected to cause such a visceral reaction. The noise is rich and heavy, coming from deep in the chest. It sounded like someone was having way too much fun. And not the recipient...
A horrific flashback to yesterday has him bolt up to search the brightly lit room for the source. Breathing hard as the many cabinets and odd equipment fill him with even more anxiety.
At least, until he checks the examination table to his right. One look at the shirtless man on the metal surface has his heart race. An unknown person looming over sends him into fight mode. All he sees is the discomfort on the Slayer’s face, and he’s jumping off the tabletop he had been sleeping on. A shout at the stranger in the lab coat, he curls his hand into a fist. The target of his attack whips around, protecting his skull.
The Slayer yells and grabs the arm, stopping the knuckles from smashing the masked visage. Mere millimeters from colliding when it gets yanked back and the shirtless warrior growls, shaking his head. A slow pull on the wrist causing the whole limb to flop at John’s side.
“Don’t. He's okay,” is all the Slayer says.
John glances at the stranger but attempts nothing, yet. “But—”
“This is a breast exam. The doctor wanted to check... for issues or growths.”
“Then why were you making all those weird noises?”
“Thought you knew… They are really sensitive. Just comes with my… procedure.”
“Oh… If you are not being forced,” turning to the doctor as the Slayer shakes his head. A sheepish smile for the masked man, he says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…”
The almost-assaulted physician stays at a safe distance but chuckles when he replies, “Not the first time a marine wanted to punch me in the face. Though this usually happens because they are a patient.”
“Yeah, but I don’t need you slipping something into my IV, or some shit like that.”
“Well, if you let me finish my examination, I won’t even consider the idea,” fixing his gloves as he walks over to the Slayer’s side. “I can explain the steps to you if this is a concern. And the patient consents to it.”
“No, just get back to playing with his tits,” getting comfortable on his table again.
“That is not what I am doing, but if that word choice helps… Guess I will take it.” Again placing his hands on the bigger man’s chest, the doctor resumes rubbing and caressing the mounds as he tells the marine to move around. The odd sounds and occasional flinching ignored as a liquid on the doctor’s palms smear all over the nipples. Soft praise with each order, he finally pulls away to say to the Slayer, “Well, everything looks normal. Let me enter some information and get a towel to clean the milk up. I would suggest speaking to the father about this situation because of the child, but otherwise, you are healthy. No oddities or issues. You should be fit to work. Just remember to see me once you are showing, so we can check on the fetus. And look at that womb again.” A glint shows in his eyes at this last part, looking at the sculpted abs where the thing had to be.
“Thanks,” grunts the Slayer, sitting up to stretch as he takes a towel the doctor hands him. A groan while cleaning his chest, he tells John, “Change of plans. Got an email from the Sergeant. Have to see him.”
John rolls his eyes and sighs, getting off his examination table. “Great. Say why?” he asks while the other puts on his shirt.
“No,” both men waving to the physician as they exit, the Slayer staying right behind John to follow.
“Hmmm, guess it’s a surprise. Wonder what kind of shit it will be this time? So, what’s with the hands-on approach with the doc? We have machines and robots for that.”
“No robots!” the Slayer snaps, glaring at the one who suggested this.
“Oh… okay,” glancing at some technicians lounging by a monitor. “Didn’t realize it was so serious.”
“I will never trust them. Not many.”
“Can I ask about the robots? What did those things ever do to you?”
“The monster from Mars. Strapped me down and experimented. On a mission for Davoth, got captured. That robot used his own kind on me. No more. Even Davoth respects that much.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. No wonder you didn’t want to mess with the sentry bot. At least you can mostly avoid the bots here. But tell me if any need to be dealt with, okay?”
The Slayer blinks at the offer, his shoulders falling. Silent as he stares just past the corporal, his face blank. However, when John frowns and waves a hand, he shakes his head and says, “Yeah, sounds good. Will keep in mind.”
“Great. Now about this pregnancy… Should I ask what to watch for? Get morning sickness, or that thing where your feet grow bigger?” now turning around to continue walking.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” his tone curt. A peer over a shoulder shows him playing with a sleeve on his shirt, avoiding John’s gaze.
“Eh, fair,” letting the remaining questions slip away as they stroll into Sarge’s office.
The door shuts as they enter the enormous dark gray space, stopping in the middle. The pair standing straight, they turn to see the older man seated in a large chair behind an impressive desk, paperwork strewn across the entire surface. Davoth watches from behind the seat, a smile on his face as he looks at his breeder. The stared-at man responding with a snarl as he furrows his brows and glares at the bent arm sticking out from the seat’s back.
John tries to discover what the lord is holding, walking closer to glance around his superior and catch a black…hoof. A quick peek at Sarge reveals nothing more—not even a sign if he should be worried. Just looking away as the ruler chuckles and steps out from behind, showing a small creature in his arms.
This thing is monstrous; humanoid, but horrific when seeing the green beast; having enough human in its features to not grab and put it down with a boot. Though the tusks and long neck bring his desire to levels he didn’t think was wise to voice for fear of retaliation. The dark lower half was far more animalistic, again screaming monster as he thinks how this tiny beast looks similar to a Minotaur. Black eyes stare back with an expression that reminds him too much of a king forced to speak with his peasants. Not a single care beyond acknowledging the corporal with a blank face. Just like the lord that holds it close to his chest, who is speaking in a gruff language to the horror. With a quick kiss on its head, he hands it over to the Slayer to deal with. John preparing for what should happen to the demon-esque animal. Bracing for the sound of flesh hitting the ground.
But the Slayer has a strange reaction to the odd creature, accepting it into his embrace. The thing whining at this move, it quickly recovers to snuggle against the man’s chest, grabbing at his clothes, tugging on a sleeve with a boorish grunt. The warrior only rubs its back as Davoth pats its head, both looking at it without a hint of disgust.
Then the lord speaks, glancing at John as he says, “I hope you will greet my child as fitting of a mortal. There would be so much to clean up if you cannot even show this simple honor.”
“Excuse me? Your what?” the man raising a brow.
“This is Baal, my second-born. They are a part of your duties and are to be treated with the utmost respect. I do not care what you say about me,” turning around to shove a finger in John’s chest. “But if you cause the children any issues, you will wish I killed you on Mars. The Slayer knows what happens to those who dare all too well…”
Both look at the warrior as he watches the child, nodding at the threat. In a low voice stating, “Yeah, don’t do that. Heirs are not to be hurt…”
John glares at the lord, clenching his fists for just a moment. “Be thankful I do not believe in hurting kids. No matter how… special or rare they are.”
“Good, you are wiser than the Slayer when he was learning duties. Now, let them feed, or you will be the meal.”
“Don’t you have souls to torture with Satan or something? Hear he’s splendid company for fuckers like you and that little bundle of joy.”
“Hmmm, I find such tales overblown compared to the truth. The last demon who chose that name ended up failing worse than the stories. Lesser beings that try overthrowing gods end up with the usurper dead, not basking in glory. Or infamy,” a hand cupping the marine’s chin to have their lips almost touch. The pair so close John inhales the smoky scent that clings to the ruler.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” refusing to back down first.
“Good.” The hold tightens to bring John chest to chest with the lord. His hot skin felt through the marine’s shirt. “I would hate to see a nice toy wasted on foolish acts.”
A soft sigh warming the tiny space between them, Davoth tilts the man’s chin, pulling him into a deep kiss. John flinches and tries to break free, the grip too tight for him to escape. The kiss deepening the more he fights, a tongue breaching his lips to explore, John's heart racing faster as he wants this to end. His body reacting like this was wanted, softening as his breath is stolen. Almost leaning on Davoth when the lord pulls away with a chuckle while still holding John. A string of curses floods from the corporal's lips, the venom in his tone sticking to every word he spits out. A fist hitting the bigger chest, wanting him to just leave. Stop touching him. He just wanted...
Davoth lets go and whispers, "Beautiful."
John backs away, baring his teeth and fists. His posture makes him puff up and bristle as he clenches his muscles, hunching his shoulders. Wide eyes trying to burn a hole in the ruler of Hell.
The lord howls with laughter, turning to his breeder. In a soft voice, he says, “Behave for John and Kelly, or there will be unwanted consequences for everyone. And remember, they would not survive the outcome like you would.”
“Yeah,” touching the front of his shirt that has come down in Baal’s grip.
“Then I’ll return after I am done,” a portal opening for him to depart as the Slayer holds the child tight against his chest.
The second the doorway closes, he walks over to John with brows raised in worry. A hand reaching out, he touches the other's shoulder. The corporal snaps out of his aroused state, growling as he brushes the fingers away.
“I’m fine,” he barks, rubbing his face. Then shaking his head to forget how his lips tingle from the kiss, scrubbing away the lingering sensations with a hand. Just to be sure. Who knows what that bastard could give him because he was bored and wanted to test a new feature? What else could the circle do he wasn’t aware of?
“I just wondered,” the Slayer replies, walking over to Sarge as he stands and grabs a chair for the warrior. The front of his shirt lifted to show his bra, he adds, “But I should explain Baal now,” reiterating what he had told before. This time having some odd details make sense as the tops come off for the baby to latch onto a breast. The heir feeding as the adults talk, the man they feed on does not give a single shit when explaining how this one is a better eater. Because they don’t need blood added to the meal. The soft flesh stretches as the child sucks harder, and their caregiver places a hand on their back to keep still.
But no matter what the Slayer says to have this all make sense, the other man cannot fully grasp the situation. No amount of insisting would convince John that such an offspring can come from the two. Not without something horrific happening in the womb besides the Slayer's pregnancy/long torment. That had to be the case. There was no way that pairing could lead to this type of creature otherwise.
Though he will never say that out loud. Not when Sarge was around to snitch to the father. It was smarter to keep his mouth shut and nod like they expected him to. The others look content while he watches the feeding. None caring as he leans in when Baal unlatches and yawns. The child rocked to sleep under the unwavering gaze as black eyes close and a hoof ends up by a tusk. Curled up against the wet breast, they huff and drift off. The three men are quiet for a minute to make sure they stay asleep before all sigh and relax, the Slayer smiling as he reclines in the chair.
John now comes closer to examine the baby without fear of getting bitten by the small tusks or receiving a kick to the face. He wasn’t positive they would do that, but he also knew there was no such thing as being too careful. Especially when dealing with kids. Those monsters were unpredictable on a good day. This way was better for watching. Seeing that, despite everything, they act like an infant when snuggling close to their caretaker, pressing a human ear to the other’s beating heart.
“Wonderful, aren’t they?” asks Sarge, coming over to watch too. “Such a beautiful baby. As should always be the case for an heir,” chuckling as he kneels to touch a plump cheek.
John shrugs, standing again. “The kid is not screaming and wailing, so I can survive.”
“Yes, a quiet baby is content. As expected of such a blessed child.”
“That’s one word…”
“Be glad they are asleep,” says the Slayer. “They like to summon demons. Most of the time due to… to boredom. Most are weak. Though marauders are too common.”
Sarge smiles at this news, playing with the unoccupied leg. “As they should…”
John looks at his superior as he runs a thumb over the hoof. A moment used to see how Sarge’s face softens, and stars dance in his eyes at the child, as if enthralled by the sight of this outcome of constant torture. The one detail he found so hard to ignore now shows what it bore. And what would join them in less than a year.
But as he had to do a lot the last few days, he keeps his mouth shut. Instead of screaming about the reality of this situation, the man finds a seat and sits nearby. Head in hand, just observing the other two. Staying there to wait for when Sarge gets an email and returns to his desk to sit down with a sigh.
The Slayer seems to notice John’s posture and adjusts to have the child curled up between the breasts. “Need to do anything? Can ask for a sling… walk around outside. Did it a lot with my… last guard, Orcus, and Bel.”
“No, not a good idea. We should just wait for Daddy to return and pick up his kid here.”
“Okay,” glancing at Sarge when he stands and exits the room. With a hand on his neck, he hides the mark as he departs, leaving the two alone with his hunting photos and paperwork. After a final look at the door, the Slayer continues. “Do you want anything? Personally.” His gaze lowers, both arms holding the infant closer to his cleavage.
“What do you mean?” he asks back, raising a brow as he looks at the other marine with a confused frown. “I’m working, and you are busy. Do not wander the place alone.”
“Yeah, I know. But Orcus got breaks with me. Usually, it didn't last too long.”
“Oh, fuck no. Do not speak about that shit around me, please. I am not listening to anything you say if my gut is correct. Not a chance.”
“Of course,” glancing at the doorway. “Had to make sure.”
John furrows his brows and gets out of his seat, his lips open to give the man a reminder. The perfect words to end this discussion before it got worse ready to be said.
Stopping when he notes how the bigger man’s eyes widen and a defensive posture shrinks his larger frame. John snapping his mouth shut as the Slayer protects the baby. A softer frown and raised brows having the warrior squint and sit up, looking unsure about the change in John's demeanor.
“Fuck, sorry,” murmurs John, reaching out to brush a finger over the child’s arm. A peek at the Slayer to see him scanning the corporal’s face, he adds, “I don’t do that. Ever. Listen, I know that is the precedent with security, but I am only here to help. We agreed to me keeping you out of trouble, not taking advantage of the situation. At least, not like that.”
“Good,” is the only reply the Slayer gives, lowering his gaze. The room soon growing silent as he stands and passes Baal to John while he puts on his shirt.
And he continues to keep quiet, ignoring any looks or simple questions seeking more answers. The kid back in his arms, the Slayer leans on the desk when Sarge returns and takes them to coddle. John rolls his eyes when the older man coos the dozing monster, fighting to not show his disgust. He turns around, wondering which would come first: the baby’s father, or his well-deserved death. A true debate when he grabs his lone pistol and realizes it was good forethought to clean the weapon before he left.
But he was not great at timing and must put the thing away as a red portal opens. Davoth stepping through, he smiles at the sight of Sarge with his spawn, and wraps an arm around the Slayer’s shoulders to watch Baal for a minute. A look of genuine love warming up the dictator’s cold visage. The hand slips lower, pulling the man closer. The fingers hooked on his belt when the child gets passed to Davoth so he can hold both in his arms.
A peck on Baal’s forehead, he right after drags the Slayer into a long kiss that has them moan together. The display is obvious in its intent when he grabs the collar to make sure there is no resistance and the marine must lean in to remain standing. The whole thing is a slap in the face. John’s hatred for the despot growing even after it ends, and the ruler growls about how the Slayer’s behaving better and should be a full-time breeder soon.
The Slayer yanks free and glares, hissing he would put his boots and gloves so far up the lord’s ass the surgeon would need emergency surgery to remove everything. Davoth laughs at the threat, stepping forward so the other retreats, staying out of arm’s reach.
John has a hand on his pistol again out of habit, pulling his arm back when the tyrant turns and flashes a smug grin. Like he knew what the corporal was planning. Their gazes meet as the room becomes red, tentacles creeping along the walls when Davoth leaves. The vision cut short as the portal closes once more, leaving John to blink away the odd tint that lingers.
The first thought that comes right after is how he would strangle the fucker with his bare hands. Every single finger has the same idea when they form claws, and he whips around. With a growl to follow, John turns to face the hallway, heavy footsteps following behind to prove the other listened. His heart racing when a hand grabs a shoulder, and he feels the warrior’s firm grip. A light pull making both step into a quiet corridor.
“You can’t outpace me, John. Not for long,” the Slayer says, walking around to be face-to-face. “I can always outrun you.”
“Then why do you bother staying?” a bit of an edge in his voice. “The more I hear about you, the more I wonder. The exit is easy to find. Like really, it’s super simple since Earth requires safety laws.”
The Slayer runs a hand through his hair, messing up the short locks before fixing them again. “No desire to be tracked. He always finds me.”
“I don’t understand you sometimes. Why couldn’t you have talked before? I wanted to know this back in the office.”
“Had to be sure. Certain you were honest with… what you said. Orcus had an inclination to help. For a cost. Worried you might take it. Steal what you needed.”
“And I explained that would never happen. Not after the first time. I’d rather get killed or my legs sawed off. Unless that’s your thing…”
The Slayer lets the corners of his mouth rise in a ghost of a smile. A lean in to have their gazes meet, he stares for a moment, his lips parting when so close. As if he wanted to say something important but couldn’t. At last, after a long pause, finding the will to ask, “Would you want to? I thought about that in Kelly’s office. There would be no actual issues if you asked Davoth.”
John places a palm on the Slayer’s chest and pushes him away. A long exhale is needed to steady the shaking hand when it leaves and taps the handle of his gun. In a tight and controlled voice, replying, “That is not an appropriate question to ask a coworker”. Glancing around the hall, he sees no one overheard the conversation yet. “What I stated before is the only answer you will get without external factors,” pointing to the collar and his stomach.
“Why are you—”
“Parties that cannot consent are of no interest to me. I am here to act as security, nothing else.”
“And if I said I did? That this was okay? Right now, for the future.”
“I’d take that promise, toss it in the furnace, and pretend you did not say a damn word. End of discussion. Consent only applies to current activities. That is what I got taught from a young age. So unless you want it this second, this conversation is done.”
“You are different. Might like it without the collar,” giving a small shrug as his body otherwise stiffens. A glance at a doorway labeled for maintenance before his eyelids lower, and the smile becomes more visible, distorted, and twisted. “Just do it. I won’t stop you. Not this time.”
“No. Fuck no! Nope,” turning around to walk back to the busier hallway before the man could make more ridiculous suggestions. "I don't think so!"
To even humor such shit…
The Slayer keeps pace as he looks at the smaller marine with apparent confusion, the smile morphing into a frown. “I’m sorry…”
“And I forgive you.”
“I would—oh…”
“Yeah, it is that easy. For both of us.”
“I can live with that.”
“Glad to hear it,” pulling out his PDA as they walk through the doorway to the neighboring section.
The conversation dies as there are more people now, both men doing their best to cut a path through the crowd. A feat of true skill while navigating a brick house that makes ordinary humans freeze, or bump into each other to get out of the way. More so when seeing an entire group of marines gawking when the warrior seems to scan the individuals with a critical stare. The look growing more intense when one averts their gaze to glance at a neighbor.
Then the Slayer lets out a sound of disinterest and turns away, walking off as the marines exchange looks with each other and John. The corporal shakes his head, and a hand raises in greeting as he backs off for the safety of the sleeping quarters. Both going through at the same time as John lifts his arms to stretch, about ready to lie down and—
A flash of crimson has him snap to attention. What should be two rows of beds and shitty blankets is a far more spacious bedroom with a massive bed, and stone tablets that float by a wall. A glance at the strange writing and pictures of demons on the rock, he steps backward to find the portal gone. No choice left but to go back to the main piece of furniture where two pairs of red eyes witness his slow revelation. A chill going down his spine at the lord wearing a smug grin, just knowing it was all his fault. But the man sticks closer to the Slayer when he focuses on the hulking milk-white demon that looks straight out of a horrible nightmare. Or a very confusing dream.
The glowing eyes bad enough, John keeps switching his gaze from the two sets of horns and mask to the ruined dark green armor that leaves a scarred torso exposed. A glimpse at the shining light embedded in the chest strap, he sees the shotgun holstered on a thigh and knows there would be issues if things got dangerous. John’s certain he could stand a chance if he was smart and saved ammo, just had to get the Slayer to…
“Orcus…” the man whispers, looking at the pale behemoth as the named guard crosses his arms. The unarmored hand tapping sharp claws on a lone glove as the demon glares at his old charge.
“Usurper,” the creature replies, pulling out a long metal stick. “I missed your presence in the bedroom. Have you forgotten your lessons? Should I make sure?”
Davoth smiles at the exchange and leans back into the pillow, spreading his legs to get comfortable. His tone shows genuine amusement when ending the dialogue as his other hand strokes a thigh. The fingers far too close to his crotch when they trace the outline, grabbing the marines’ attention. “Hmm, seems I do not impress Orcus with the new distraction, Slayer. I tell him it’s better than the knife you made before, but he feels the human needs some upgrades too. What do you think, my vessel?”
The man steps forward to block the corporal from the pair’s view, standing taller when he crosses his arms. “Thought you barred me from Hell? Being too much trouble?”
“A vacation from Earth is not off the table, as they say. The idea sounds tempting after what you did on such furniture. Did the doctor satisfy you?”
“You know, know, know, know he didn’t do a thing! Not the deal.”
“Hmmm, sounded as if you enjoyed the breast exam from his report. Not even a little? Or when you told John how that was normal? Do you get off on lying?” a glint making the irises shine like beacons in the night. “Oh, I doubt that little fib, breeder. It's not like you to deny such attention. Not with how much milk you wasted on the examination. The nice doctor said it was a lot in the report.”
“That was not…”
“I suspect whatever you’re trying to say means nothing to us. You ask to be bred from everyone you meet. And who else asks for such things so willingly besides a breeder? Not your toy or guard, and that is all that matters.”
“Oh no,” yells John, walking forward to face the pair. His teeth clench when Orcus grips the metal stick tighter, but he tells the lord, “You have no right to say that. Not when you are the reason for everything. You know every complaint is because you”—shoving a finger into the glowing orb in Davoth’s chest—“wanted to control another human. And because you were afraid to do real work. I mean, how hard can it be for such a massive dick to go fuck himself? Should be simple for someone so obsessed with breeding.”
The ruler blinks and glances at the digit for a second, his face showing genuine surprise at the chastising. Then it morphs, a smile forming as he laughs. His howls shake the bed when Orcus’ eyes dart between the two. The guard, putting the blunt weapon away, turns to watch the lord enjoy the harsh censuring with raised brows.
No one reacts when Davoth calms down and takes the hand, brushing his lips over the palm. A soft kiss on the calloused skin caresses the digits. The hot breaths have them spread as the man tugs on the unyielding grip. A lick over the palm making the area soften, the flesh looking no different from the first day he picked up a gun. John gasps at the weird feeling when he wrenches the arms back. Wide eyes gawking at the smooth alteration.
“What the fuck was the point of that?” asks John, staring at his hands again. “How does this help?”
“Think of that as a gift. I love when mortals assume they stand a chance against me. It makes me respect them just a little. Plus, I hate rough fists taking care of what matters,” running a hand over the shaft that has grown more pronounced in his pants.
“That’s it,” the man growls, dumping the contents of his pockets on the ground.
The shirt is about to join the rest of the possessions when the Slayer grabs an arm, his eyes wide when dragging the smaller fighter to his side. “John, think about what you’re doing! He almost killed you before. And that was without hitting you. His fist is worse.”
“No, I did not get this far by backing down to bullies,” pulling free of the grip.
The Slayer gives a slow nod and stands in front of the man, arms spread and hunched over. His entire face twists into an inhuman smile, grabbing John’s shirt collar to bring forward, forcing the other to stand on his toes.
“Slayer, what are—” stopping when a hand grabs his throat. “Let me go! Move so I can—”
The world blurs right before a pain explodes in the back of his skull. The dull thud of his head hitting the ground is enough to stun the corporal while the other gets on top and pins him down. A chill freezes the held-down marine, breathing hard when he sees blue eyes staring into his. The grip tightening, he struggles to break free, grunting when the other refuses to budge.
A yell comes from John when he uses a knee to hit where it really matters, the gut. A few more striking the same spot before the other can react. Then a couple more with additional force, putting some real power in the bruising strike. A few feeling great as he watches the other wince.
Davoth cares about the bastard in there. Let’s see how much he likes it seeing Hell prematurely.
A last double knee attack to the rock-solid abs has the man above grimace but remain firm. John breathes hard as he watches, waiting for someone to react. Searching the warrior for a realization. For shock to twist his expression as his body rids itself of the parasite.
But all the Slayer does is straddle John, sitting on top to stop that kind of outburst from being repeated. His chest crushing the smaller man, he says, “I know what that was for. It won’t work, I tried similar plans. The baby is safe.”
“But…”
“Not even my weapons do anything. Davoth realizes the risk. He knows you’re a toy. Do not make this worse.”
“Why? Am I supposed to surrender and end up in the same position? You are here to be fucked and fucked with. A thing to call his property and birth countless heirs. Is that what you think is right? Why should I suffer the same shit? You cannot accept this! Think! Let me do something...”
The other shakes his head and leans in, their lips almost touching when he whispers, “Wish that mattered…”
Then he rises, jumping to his feet as he holds John tight. The other man unable to so much as scream when he’s slung over a shoulder and gagged with a hand.
But John has no interest in letting this go, clawing and punching the brick wall of muscle with all his strength. A few bites to the palm and strong kicks to the back pound on the solid muscles that hold him with such ease. However, the strikes do not faze the Slayer when he turns to Davoth to watch him stand. Neither able to do much as he tells Orcus to take his pick, giving a lazy wave toward the humans.
Orcus nods and saunters over to, without pause, grab John from the Slayer’s grip. The bigger marine is about to speak when he’s told to kneel, or lose the toy. A growl in response, the metal stick gets pulled out again to make the Slayer get on his knees.
The guard’s usual fucktoy is forced to watch as the marauder holds his new captive like an abandoned runt, holding him by the nape in the gloved hand. John hanging like a corpse when the massive demon inspects his body. The corporal in turn seeing how human this one looks compared to many demons he had seen.
What would cause this kind of creature? They can’t be… Humans don’t end up as this, do they?
But then Orcus chuckles and interrupts his thoughts. The guard gazes at Davoth and says, “I shall teach the usurper’s new plaything his duty. Such disrespect is not fitting of a soul who needs his eyes opened to the truth.” Again facing John, he tells him, “You are not one of us, but you may know the lies someday. Davoth might act as if he disregards such slights, but he knows that is my role. Such a lesson in manners is in order.”
“Fuck off,” he spits back, grabbing a horn. A sharp yank only makes the demon flick his wrist and have the stick illuminate as double-sided blades of pure energy form a battleaxe. The heat of the weapon felt when millimeters from his face, a temple becoming wet with sweat.
Oh, so that’s why he’s been waving it around… Fuck.
The man snarls in frustration, letting the curled bone go so he swings like a heavy bag in the wind. Not saying another word. Only moving to cross his arms and glare, waiting for an excuse to use his boot on the hellish creature.
Orcus grunts but seems content with this response, retracting the blades to turn around. Both walking for the exit when they see Davoth helping the Slayer to his feet. Only to have him dragged toward the bed. John is forced to look over a shoulder as the other marine is bent over, hands on the bedding when a hand caresses his ass. A soft sound leaves John’s mouth as he wants to jump out of the guard’s hold and shoot the bastard causing this. Knowing he cannot with every step Orcus carries them away from the other pair.
The last thing he sees is the worried expression on the Slayer’s face when the door shuts behind the demon. His tired eyes and parted lips telling the man he fucked up. A pang of anger and regret makes his stomach twist as he wonders if he deserved this. This is worse than almost killing a cruel commander. The dark halls of UAC on Mars are where he needs to be. It was only right for the shit he pulled in there. Hell, this justified a harsher punishment.
He was supposed to help the guy… Why did he do this? How was he so fucking stupid?
The sound of a door opening has him spot a crowd of orange and purple monsters that had the same proportions as an emaciated chimp. Their spikes and glowing eyes are strange but fitting when they screech, and a couple bounce around on an enormous bed. A few rubbing pink slits when they flash mouths full of sharp teeth and come closer. Long arms reaching out as they show clawed fingers and pointed tongues.
But Orcus is not in the mood to deal with such beasts and roars at them to leave the room, whipping out the shotgun to blast one into the wall. A dying sound as it burns away sends the rest out of the chamber as they scream in their hellish language. Another shot has a couple fall to allow the others to escape. The two alone in the bedroom now as he holsters the gun and walks further inside.
John has time to see the shelves with odd bits of armor and a work table before he gets chucked onto the bed. A grunt when he lands on the soft mattress, sinking into the fluff as his body wants to thank the demon for this. A groan escapes as he turns to see the marauder get in bed with him, the powerful body on top to keep him there.
“It would seem you like the breeder’s bed,” hisses Orcus. “Quite the reward for such a disobedient vessel, but the heirs always deserve such luxury.” The demon now grabs the hem of John’s shirt, pulling it up as he continues with, “But we know what you are thinking. What else did he do in here, and what did I do to him when heavy with child and unable to leave the bed? When did he need a good fuck when in such a state?”
“You fucker…” grabbing the offending arm to stop from getting stripped. With a hard pull, having his shirt rip as the hand lets go, the long claws nicking his stomach.
Orcus retaliates with a punch to the face, hitting him right in the mouth. Blood on the man’s tongue when he grabs the belt on the demon’s pants and uses this as leverage, reaching for the chest plate. Another strike to the nose, making the human groan and fight harder. The two grunting and growling as one when a sharp knee threatens to break John’s ribs when it’s jammed into his torso. A second to the same spot causes him to gasp for air when a hand fists his neck and the shotgun returns, the barrel shoved to the back. His jaws straining when the end tries to rip his throat open.
The marauder says, “I will pull the trigger. If I see any resistance, or you strike me again, I shall make sure Davoth uses your corpse to alter the breeder more. I’ll show you and the Slayer why I must serve Davoth and his children. And why I cherish this job so much!”
John furrows his brows but lets his hands fall onto the bed. Some spit on the metal when it retreats, he can taste the ash and dirt that clings to the gun. Spitting into the sheets, he replies, “You would love that, wouldn’t you? Get off on taking advantage of anyone weaker than yourself? Fucking a pregnant Slayer gets your cock hard? Is that what gets your shriveled heart racing?”
“I see the truth and take what is earned. Why do you think all of Hell enjoys the Slayer so much? The venerable lord made him to be used. And it would seem you are too,” ripping the shirt off to point at the circle.
“Get your sad cock out and just rub it on something already. I don’t need to hear you whimpering when you ooze jizz on my thighs.”
“The vessel was quite happy when he was riding. Especially when full of come and cramping hard from being impregnated. I know you feel the same, since breeders always crave such things from those who watch over them. You are his current charge and should understand that from experience.”
John growls but doesn’t move when the shotgun ends up in his jaws again, obeying as a claw shreds his pants and the gray underwear comes into view. The point returning to tear the elastic just above his bush.
Orcus chuckles at the sight of it and rips them off to get a better look. Taking a deep whiff of the used attire, he presses it to the mask and inhales the stink for a moment while giving a shudder. With a slow blink, he next says, “I should ask if Davoth can change this for you, too. Such a pointless annoyance for a mortal,” the ruined clothing then tossed over a shoulder. Then he fists the human’s throat while a claw taps the circle.
John wants to scream when the lust floods his mind and his ass tingles, the effects immediate. He knows what this means, and he cannot do a thing to stop it. Any anger and fear washes away, flooding with the need for something better than battle. The desire to fight is gone. He craves what only the sexy demon can give. The dream body is on top where it belongs for him to stare at the sculpted form. And nothing could prevent him from accepting this role.
He touches the shotgun still in Orcus’ hand, having the marauder put it back on his thigh with a purr. The sound grows louder when the man next moves to massage the bulge in the tight pants, shuddering when he finds out how wrong his insult was. The hefty cock fills his palm, throbbing when he squeezes the shaft. A slow caress over the whole thing earns him a long exhale, seeing the crotch strain as it grows more, begging to be set free.
This fucker had just what he needed—and he would make sure he was utterly destroyed. His ass was getting so wrecked he would need to be carried out of the room. And hopefully to more. That group of smaller demons from before seemed eager when they arrived.
The clink of a belt buckle snaps him out of this train of thought. Once more looking up, he sees the front of the pants lower. The smooth skin revealed a perfect way to have him see the thick base as the marauder rises and strips off the rest of the armor. The thud of metal and leather fills John’s ears as he feels his manhood twitch, touching the head as he watches. A soft moan slips out when he keeps the hand still, knowing he must be overstepping by doing this.
But did it matter? Was punishment a bad thing when it meant getting covered, or filled, with come? Let the guard fuck him so hard he begs for more beatings if that got him what they wanted.
But Orcus doesn’t act annoyed, laughing when he witnesses the man shudder under his gaze. The sound grows louder when the hand falls to the side, and John sees the massive cock that hangs low between the powerful thighs. Another tingle in his ass, he tries reaching behind. Orcus grabbing the arm to drag them both to the head of the bed.
The demon reclined on a pillow, he says, “What an eager toy you are. Get to work, or you will be a cock sleeve for a baron or two.”
“Are they similar to you? Or not as impressive?” fisting the base to feel the weight. Another shudder at the sheer size. He begs this doesn’t end too soon.
“Ah, the Slayer never said what the creatures are all called? Or what they look like?” Saying when John shakes his head, “You do not need to worry about that. They would kill your pathetic body. Accept this weakness and use your mouth. I want it done right.”
“Yeah… okay,” having both hands stroke the shaft while the demon sighs and leans back. Red eyes watch as John hurries to straddle the pale thighs and bends over to drool on the slit, his palms slick to get the rest of the cock. A titter is heard when the whole thing swells and rises, the gray flesh getting bigger as it twitches and leaks. The man groans as he cannot ignore how his does the same. Or pretend he doesn’t want to grind against the girth.
So big…
He slows as the length stands on its own; the erection looms over, casting a shadow on his hard cock. His slit just as wet, he stares at the crystal drops that leak on their laps when he has the heads kiss. A dumb display for the demon as he asks, “Is that all you want? I could do more than blow you. We should—”
A fist crushes John’s larynx to stop him from speaking. A wide-eyed stare looks at the guard when he hisses, “I gave explicit orders. Now listen, or I will show you what a pinkie can do to such a fragile creature. And no, you would not survive, if any even bother to fuck you before ripping your corpse to pieces and eating what’s left.”
The grip leaves for him to suck in air and smile, breathing hard when leaning on the marauder’s chest. “No need to be so rough, Sir… Unless you like that. I can behave,” spitting in a palm as he pushes his ass against the cock. A growl from the demon ends this act. He frowns and obeys as promised, moving faster to bend over and drool on the slit before wrapping his lips around the glans. With a groan at the bigger dick, he massages the whole thing with a skilled tongue. Pleading eyes begging for this to please the marauder. Orcus rolls his head, placing a hand on John’s skull.
Then shoves the marine's face down to cause a violent choke and groan. Going deeper and harder as the man braces to not suffocate on the girth. A few rough pushes make him whine as he fights to fit all of it into the hole. Another slipping out when he gets pulled off, drool oozing down his chin to coat the length. A crooked smile twists his lips with drunken bliss as he finds the hand forcing him to return, groans heard as the head tries sliding down his throat. Some work was needed for him to ensure his gag reflex stopped getting in the way. He didn’t need to breathe that badly.
At last, feeling the whole thing snake down his hole, his larynx turns into a fucking mound as he again gazes at the demon. With a gradual pull off the inhuman size, it slips out for the man to lick the underside as he catches his breath. Heavy exhales blow hot air on the shaft while long swipes keep the other sated. Orcus’ fingers curl, the claws digging into John’s scalp when the human behaves and goes to the top. With the next attempt, taking his time to have it all fit as he swirls his tongue and sucks in his cheeks. Slow bobs of the head and moans doing a good job of earning sounds from Orcus. The sight of the big sloppy dick before him is like a work of art as he makes the other react. The quick rise and fall of the marauder's chest as he gets pleasured is absolute ecstasy for the toy. Working hard on this erection is better than a few vibrators on the highest setting getting shoved up his ass and taped to his cock when he tastes musk and smoke.
His slit leaks just as much when he comes off to use his torso. Grinding the member on his abs while he whispers how badly he wants to be used. A few whimpers make Orcus growl before he shoves John down, his nose in the smooth skin as a sharp thrust keeps him quiet. The question of if John made a better facefuck raised while Orcus places both hands on the back of his skull.
The first buck of the hips is all it takes for both to know the answer. Each thrilled by the moans of the demon. And this continues as the human gives his most pitiful gaze, the pathetic expression begging to ruin the hole. Be rough, just as he deserves.
And Orcus is not one to deny a fucktoy its right and fists the locks, dragging John off. The entire bottom half of his face coated in spit and more, he pants, tongue flopping and drooling as he sees the thick drops fall onto the bedding. Mouth open and jaw slack when the demon purrs, bringing the hole back to his cock. With a moan, John lowers faster as the sound from above now fills the room. The shaft grinding on the tight walls of his throat as he holds on and closes his eyes.
A harder thrust begins this right as he clenches and makes the other groan, speeding up to abuse the wonderful tunnel. Then listening to the marine gag at the sharp stabs inside. John grips a thigh in each hand, but the nails cannot pierce the flesh when the tears slip out and snot dribbles down his chin to blend. The disgusting mixture a blessing as he’s forced to feel the head try to reach his collarbone. Not quite making it when it pulls out just long enough for him to catch his breath and stare at what coats his skin—and keeps the length shined. Gasping and coughing from slack jaws while hunched over, a sloppy grin shows John wasn’t done as he uses his chest in place of his tongue. The slit painting him with crystal drops as the marauder holds on tight.
Next, increasing the abuse and slamming his face down while giving a painful thrust. The man cries as the tears flow down his cheeks. His jaws stretched as short bucks have his eyes roll into his skull and stars explode behind the lids. The demon grunting with each brutal stab in the hole as he ruins the messy hair and has John gushing from both ends. His dick and ass were alive with sparks as his mouth aches, and he loves every moment. A squinted eye opens to see Orcus has his head thrown back while groaning, saying things the man cannot understand. The sloppy image the marauder created not yet seen as he gives a buck harder than the rest, and the human screams on the cock. Sobbing with the pain when a second noise has the demon stop and hold him down.
The first pulse tells John he did well as the hot jizz pours down his hole and fills his guts. The thick reward all he thinks about when so much come shoots into his throat. An inhuman amount makes his stomach stretch, holding the bulge in a hand as more floods inside. Only when the entire load gets swallowed does he get pulled off to breathe, shaking and panting as he sits up.
Then falls onto the bed to recover, his head spinning as his belly jiggles and he burps up some of the come. The strange flavor is more bitter than even the most testosterone-riddled carnivore-eating marine back on base. And he wants more.
John hurries to sit up and spread his legs, revealing a rock-hard shaft that throbs before the more powerful marauder. The smaller glans swaying as he slips a couple of fingers into his ass. Slow motions have his hole open as they get coated in lube that the circle gifts. Shuddering at the sensation as he aches for something better to take over. But he knows not to whine, seeing how Orcus leans back to let him do this.
He knew the first time it activated what Davoth had done to ensure he was always ready and waiting. The runes endowed him with something that has his hole eager and lubed up for a worthy cock to pound into the next century with bliss. There was no need to ever think of wasting a users time. He was trained to act in seconds, and this new addition only made his new duties easier.
From the moment the Slayer broke him in on the floor of the interrogation room, John could not forget how he quivered from being fucked with the breeder's dick. Such a sensation too powerful, too mind-altering. There’s nothing like it. Not even the guard that had used him before could ever measure up. Not when that load merely dribbled down his thighs. Such a load was pathetic when compared to the Slayer, who washed out the previous round with his orgasm, and marked John as his proper fucktoy.
And he hopes Orcus was the same. He needed to come on that massive cock at least once. To compare experiences, of course…
The marauder stares at the lustful display, his eyes flicking between the leaking slit and ass. The sight amusing to him, if the lazy purr is a clue. A hand touching his softening girth, the guard sits up and grabs John’s arm, pulling it away to examine the coated fingertips while the rim lets some escape.
A claw under the man’s chin forces John to look into the glowing irises. The smile on John's lips growing when their eyes connect, and fingers wrap around his shaft. A gasp heard when the fist has him shaking and fucking the hole with the same speed, fast strokes having his sides heave as he pants and whines. Pure need in his expression as he groans and yells, “Fuck! Yes…” coming closer to sit in the demon’s lap. His dick throbbing when seated on such a virile partner. In a low voice asking, “Mask? Can I… want to see under,” purring as the grip tightens.
“You dare demand things?” slowing the motions while John whimpers, moving on his own for friction. The marauder stopping to make him sob. “You get to come because you please me. Do not order me around if you choose to finish.”
“No, was asking, promise,” the words rushed, hands shaking as he leans on the other. “I can do more. Taste more… I never fucked a demon before.”
“Why should I care?”
“Just a kiss. Has the Slayer never asked?” tilting his head to the side as he touches the pale flesh.
“No. Such things never arise when I fuck him.”
“Davoth obviously loves to. Wasn’t sure…” biting his lip as he comes closer; face-to-face to lick the metal.
The demon thinks, a claw tapping the man’s round stomach. A slow grind from John has him snap, making the man pause. “So you are just as shameless as the Slayer? All that effort for something so simple. You will regret this.”
“What do you mean…?” watching as the other removes the mask. Then shudders when the metal piece gets tossed with the rest of the armor, revealing the full brutal visage of the marauder.
He’s not sure which feature makes him beam at the image. Was it the tall fangs, wide inhuman jaws, or long tongue that slithers out when Orcus laughs? No matter what, he grins, places a hand on the marauder’s chest, and plants his lips on the demonic guard.
The demon stiffens at the sudden attack, grabbing an arm when the man opens his mouth, inviting the longer muscle to slip inside and explore. The grip on his bicep squeezes harder, making him whine when the other growls and picks him up. Not stopping when Orcus is on top, and the marine can hook a leg around the thick waist and hang on. A moan into the maw of sharp teeth, the tongue returns to go deeper, choking and gagging him. Every moment of this absolute bliss.
And if it wasn’t for the hot demon, he would have screamed when a hand gives his cock some attention. A few strokes to the shaft to see he’s still rock hard, the fist leaves, and something more appealing finds its way to his hole. After a second to retract the tongue, the massive demonic dick pushes against the slick rim and rams inside. Breaching the entrance, Orcus is hilt deep before the human can realize what he had done. Or stop the come from shooting all over their chests. His mind numb, he lets go as his body shakes and head pulses, white spilling on himself and the sheets. Heavy throbs having far less shoot out than the guard, as he should expect.
Orcus looks at the spilled load and bares his teeth, leaning in to sniff the pitiful mess John made. “What a pathetic human you are. I understand why Davoth has not altered this form. You would never survive as a breeder, let alone a vessel.”
The man groans, propping up on shaking elbows to laugh. “That’s why I’m the toy… I make sure he’s maintained. And the pipes are clean. We both love how he can ride a cock like it’s a career. This role is obvious, no matter what Davoth says out loud.”
Orcus hums and lifts the corners of his lips, chuckling as a claw traces around the circle. “What an apt observation. Now let’s see if you can come close.”
John smiles at this, rubbing more of the lube on the gray cock as it pulls out. A breathy moan shaking his sides when only the tip remains. He hurries to spread the cheeks. Then howling when it slams inside, threatening to tear his ass open. Head thrown back, he bellows when the shaft rips out to return with more force than even the roughest fuck in the backseat of a fast-moving vehicle. His eyes wide, the man grips the sheets as he thanks the ruler for such a gift. Crying out while his hole clenches from the abuse, gripping the entire member like he wanted this to hurt. The marauder groans at the extra tightness and rewards him with a flurry of punches to his guts, pounding his insides with eye-watering speed. The sting of bile and come burning his mouth when his stomach empties, and he wants to scream at the wasted reward. Hot white gushing into the bedding when he gets more to ensure there’s nothing left.
More soaking the sheets when this spurs the marauder, going faster so he cannot speak. Or resist when his legs get spread apart, and Orcus puts his entire body on top. The crushing weight has him grabbing a shoulder, and the marauder's hands rake sharp claws along both thighs. A sound of pain catches in John’s throat, choking as the thrusts speed up. The agony too much to not grow hard again when he groans. Balls heavy as he hears the ragged breathing of his user. A pained smile twists his face when another claw takes its time cutting each laceration deeper. Flesh tearing as all he can do is feel every jagged cut.
Then the demon stops with a grunt, spilling seed into the shaking bloody man. A few sharp thrusts getting the other to whimper, a fitting load painting his tunnel as he deserved. More making his belly expand like he got impregnated. Groaning as his guts stretch, and it seems as if his intestines will be engorged when this is over.
But then it ends, and Orcus pulls out, letting the orgasm gush out and drench the bed. A few drops hit John’s cock as he titters, both gawking at the mess.
“Oh, fuck…” he laughs, not moving as his cock twitches, far less dribbling on his chest as the man wonders when he came. Only knowing he was ready for another round. “So big…” purring when pink stains form where come mixes with blood.
Not that he minds, sitting up with a hiss as the shooting pain in both legs warns he is still bleeding. With a grunt to make them obey regardless of the injuries, he gets on his knees and crawls over. Shaking hands resting on the bigger guard’s lap, he wraps eager lips around the cock, licking the top clean as his tongue circles the slit. A soft moan heard as he savors the taste, being thorough despite how much his limbs shake and head spins. The fact he’s dizzy means little while lapping up drool when nothing else remains.
Or blocks the other from yanking his mouth away to lean in and inspect the job. A smug grin on Orcus' face when he sees the toy cleaned up well. Next, placing a hand on the small of John’s back to dig in his claws, raking the points up the pale torso. The receiver screams as he can’t resist thanks to blood loss when more of the hot liquid gushes out. One more pass goes between the first cuts as he stops making sounds, letting the red fingers leave for him to fall into the bedding. A body quaking shiver felt by both when the long tongue laps up this crimson treat, humming as the marauder now savors something from the human.
“Did I… Did I do good?” John asks, trying to sit up when a claw plunges into a thigh wound, and he falls over again. “You came. Was that enough?” desperation in his voice as he watches the other feed.
“You are a replacement for the Slayer. Consider this”—showing the blood-coated claws—“a reminder of how thankful you should be. I showed the truth of this fate, and you will never forget what I could do. Be grateful I was satisfied, or I would serve you to Baal. The breeder could get a new toy from another world, but I let your eyes open to reality instead.”
“Thanks,” he whispers, shivering as the room grows cold.
After the demon hums and finishes the treat, he gets up to put on his armor. Once all the heavy leather and metal are secure, he walks over to flip John on his back and press a finger on his stomach.
The circle deactivated, the effects are instant. The second he blinks, the lust dies, and he lays in the mess. Too weak to move, panting as he watches the marauder exit. His body shakes as he lays there to watch the door open again, bare feet and moans heard before the new demons arrive. This time closing his eyes as several zombies in tattered white clothes enter the room. Eyeless skulls deformed by the massive hole where eye sockets should be; they bore into his soul as most carry buckets and boxes in bony arms.
The man, exhausted from his abuse by Orcus, finds it hard to do more than squint as one pulls out a needle and thread. Just groaning when the point pierces his skin for the first suture. The rotting hand pulling the jagged tear together with nothing to numb the pain.
Notes:
So I did that to the poor guy... I'm sure John will be fine with the new addition. Though I would like to know how people feel about the lube trick, since I do not want to have his hole healed every time he so much as looks at a demon/Davoth's dick. It won't be a huge focal point in future chapters, but if you like it, have fun imagining it every time he s(creams).
Nonetheless, don't be afraid to leave a comment, some feedback, or drop a fun idea. I try to take it into consideration and see how I can work with it in the story. (。・∀・)ノ"
Chapter 7: A Surprise for the Slayer
Summary:
Davoth enjoys some alone time with his breeder, having an important discussion about responsibility. Then pounds it into the Slayer's head, and other parts.
John is given a special gift to help with a much-needed lesson in obedience.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“No!” the Slayer shouts as the door closes behind Orcus and John. A grunt as he fights the harsh grip that keeps him bent over on the bed, his face twists in a mask of anger. Eyes wide as he refuses to let the lord see the sadness at this loss, while his hands grip the bedding in pure frustration.
John would be okay, right? Orcus wouldn’t hurt him… would he? The man was not like them, and could die if the demon was too violent…
He knew the corporal noticed his worry when they were separated—no matter how much he wanted to hide that. Their eyes meeting as he hoped this was a mistake. But now the door is shut, and he’s alone with Davoth. The heat of Hell is hard to feel as he gets shoved into the blankets and pushed to the center of the bed, a chill going down his spine. Forced to stare at the ceiling, his vision fills with the smug ruler as he climbs on top to study the breeder better. With a slow scan of the new uniform, Davoth seems to think about what the man is wearing, as if he wished to change the attire.
But all he does is sigh and shake his head, telling the Slayer, “It is a shame Kelly is right about the clothes. You look fine in this; if too much covering for one such as you. But I cannot risk others getting you distracted because someone catches you presenting and acts too eager. We must sacrifice for now.”
“This is perfect,” he snaps back, glaring at the ruler.
“I agree. This is fitting, and you are beautiful even in the uniform. It’s a lovely sight when I think of the future. And I am patient for the day the pregnancy is too far along to wear that anymore,” running a hand over the warrior’s stomach.
“I can tell…” turning to stare at the stone tablets by the opposite wall.
Davoth hums and drags the Slayer’s gaze back, cupping his chin to keep the focus there. Asking him, “Do you agree with John? Do you agree with all the crazy things the toy claims?”
The Slayer shakes his head, watching as Davoth's eyes glow brighter and he frowns. Though the man is quick to talk when the hold on his face tightens, replying, “No. John is too bold.”
The lord laughs, making the warrior raise a brow at the response. Which makes him say, “You speak as if you even deserve the marine at your side. Such a companion is too respectable for someone such as you. It’s a good thing he is too forgiving to quit the hero act for a breeder. Imagine if he knew you were so selfish as to only do this to have a fun toy. How fast would he give that up?”
The man blinks at the harsh words, shaking his head as he yanks free of the other’s hold. The facts are like a punch to the gut, reminding him how pitiful he was with John today. He just wanted someone to see him as something besides a vessel…
What was he thinking? Why would he want that after asking John to use him? Fucking and fighting are the sole currencies in his world, and the former was far more abundant. No one cared about anything else. Even before he was traded, only his prowess on the battlefield mattered, not his outstanding personality.
Though he preferred that to the reality here. Sex is all he had anymore.
And this is the absolute truth when he gets forced to sit up as the stone activates, his expression softening as he smiles and touches the lord’s face. A soft purr heard in return while Davoth takes the hand to hold against his cheek, leaning in to kiss the palm. Another on the strong fingers, he glances over at the staring marine who shudders at the gesture. A smirk when planting kisses on the back, all the man can do is let out a shaky breath and stare. Defenseless to this kindness as his mind forgets the harsh lesson he had received.
The need to embrace this role swells in his chest as a kiss on the shoulder has his head lull to the side and open his neck. One planted there, leading to more as they travel over the collar so it forces him to relax. Happy to be clay for the other to shape however he sees fit as Davoth pulls away and returns for a deeper one on the lips. His eyes close as he sinks into the powerful arms that wrap around his waist, picked up to sit in the ruler’s lap as he feels what matters to him. Moaning in Davoth’s mouth when the lord’s cock pokes his ass and obligates him to palm the mound. Breathing faster as he is explored, a hot tongue rushing inside like it was new territory to plunder. The hole opened for the ruler to continue deeper. A second moan having the embrace go lower, Davoth hooking a couple of fingers on his belt.
This item seems to annoy the lord, and he ends the kiss, clicking his tongue at this piece of clothing. The Slayer sees how he gives a sharp tug, and it snaps. Davoth hissing he would not be stopped by such an insignificant obstacle as it hangs from a fist.
Then laughing as the whole thing gets chucked over a shoulder, he lays the Doom Slayer down to get stripped. The pants' zipper reveals the man respected the changes made to the uniform, the skimpy underwear visible for Davoth to beam. A glance at the waistband provoking him to lift the hem of the shirt and see the white top was still underneath. Both in full view once he rips off the boring green and black outer layer. The image of the breeder on display when the ruler’s eyes devour each inch of flesh as he slides his fingers over the Slayer’s crotch and grabs the clothed cock. A growl rumbling deep in his chest when consuming every bit of the man. He strokes the shaft, listening to gasps and moans that only he elicits from his brood-stallion. The fist remains as he touches and caresses everything he could, while his mouth makes up for the missing hand. This vessel was Davoth’s toy to enjoy when together like this. The Slayer happy to be used and claimed as he wraps his arms around Davoth, doing all he should when a feast for his sire.
“There we go…” the lord whispers into his chest, licking the hot flesh of his breasts. “Beautiful.”
“Please,” he whines, tightening the embrace as he shudders. “More, need more.”
“Is that so?” lifting his body to break free of the hold. A few light strokes tease the breeder’s cock as he asks, “Are you asking, or ordering?”
“Saying what you like,” chuckling as he thumbs the waistband and lowers one side of the underwear. A slow grind helps more slip down until his smaller head escapes.
Davoth blinks and leans forward, not seeming to understand as he yanks the Slayer’s hand away. Though proving this thought wrong by grabbing it to slide off, keeping his warrior’s feet in the air after the article of clothing is gone. The last piece that covers his chest is left just long enough for a couple of fingers to pinch a nipple, the fabric absorbing the milk before it's removed with a snap.
At last naked, the breeder chuckles and has the lust swell. A tremble telling the lord to hurry, get going. A purr at the reaction says he didn’t need to worry; his legs wrenched apart shows he would be taken care of right. A smile on the Slayer's lips when his thighs lower and squeeze Davoth’s sides. The man next watches the other snap away his pants, an erection smacking his own. The familiar heft and warmth get a whimper out of him as Davoth's palm pushes it down, grinding them together so both shudder. Such an act begging for the perfect user to fuck and breed him hard. It was the only answer.
As he thinks this, Davoth seems to sense his desire, removing the hand to line up his cock with the waiting hole below. A whine at the loss, this changes to a sigh when the head pushes against the entrance, and the rim gives in. Only a tiny opening when the muscles relax, they welcome the lord with joy and a moan to be filled. Soft breaths tell the one responsible for this to go faster. The breeder’s mouth open to beg when his pleas are answered, and nails bite into his hips. His ass slammed down on the shaft as he groans.
“Fuck…” says the royal vessel, rubbing his stomach where he sees the head distorting his abs. “So full.”
“I bet you love to have something more substantial take care of you again. Did you miss what Hell can give an obedient breeder? Do you like this feeling? Being filled and stretched?” He flashes a smile, pointed teeth showing as he licks his lips.
“Yeah. Need more cock. Am a good brood-stallion.”
“Of course, you are…” pulling out as his hand returns to the Slayer’s erection. A fist around the base, he gives a few jerks and slips inside while a groan fills the room. A few sharp thrusts cause more guttural sounds to escape as the fingers go at the same speed.
“Oh, fuck—” all that the warrior manages when an explosion of electricity cuts him off.
It takes several more blasts of pleasure to bring his face down and see the cause. Wide eyes staring as Davoth slams inside with a grunt and hits something that makes the breeder’s spine bend and fingers clench. A look into the glowing irises keeping him like this as another thrust assaults his ass, and the fist strokes him faster. Enthralled by the sire when he leans in without breaking the rhythmic pace, the Slayer stares as the other flashes a mouth full of fangs and a long tongue. The thick muscle licking the many points as they come closer to his throat.
The breeder beams and rolls his head to the side, open and waiting for the lord. A shaky hand guides Davoth to the softest and easiest-to-mark spot. Unsteady motions combing the short locks when he howls from the first bite, blood gushing into awaiting lips. The noise bounces off the walls, and he cannot think of anything better than this. The smile spreads across his face as he holds the back of Davoth’s skull, telling the other to not leave when slow flicks of the tongue lap up more.
If the ruler of Hell wanted this, how could he refuse? Such erotic feelings… So hard to deny.
Clenched fingers fist the short locks and the Slayer moans from another bite to a nearby spot. Over and over, feeling his flesh savored as he hisses his joy. One eye opens to see the top of a head when his cock is throbbing and leaking. The hole not his, the man curls his toes when the fucking becomes wilder, panting as he recognizes this differed from most fucks. Not minding this change when he gets consumed without a care, this body not his own. This the reality of his role as his entire face grows lax and the mouth leaves his throat. Blood spilling onto the sheets as he doesn’t stem the flow.
Not that he should mind when he hears it. His ear picking up the familiar groan of a pleased ruler when Davoth stops everything and shoots a fitting load into the vessel. With a satisfied grin, the one above stretches the breeder’s stomach with come, sharp pulses having the skin rise with every rope. The pair is still as the last bit is emptied inside, and the cock stays where it belongs. A hand petting the bulge as Davoth sits up but doesn’t leave, staring at the man.
The Slayer waits a minute for something to happen before he shows confusion with a noise. A sharp grunt from his closed lips asks what is going on. A slow movement to pull off cut short with a harsh buck, having him gasp at the sudden promise of continuing.
Only for nothing further to arise as he tilts his head to the side. “Davoth?” the warrior asks, lifting a hand for the other to grasp and kiss the palm.
“I know you want to finish, but I wonder if you could promise something. The assurance that a task will begin when we are done here. Only then can I be certain you have earned the right. Evidence you deserve such a reward.”
“What?” watching as the clasped hands move, and the lord's mouth brushes sharp points over rough skin.
With a slow lick over the spot, he replies, “Your new toy is missing some important lessons from his childhood to be acting so foolishly. I appreciate his jokes, but the defiance and constant suggestions for you to misbehave must be corrected. I want you to promise this terrible attitude will be fixed, or you can go back to Earth without a way to find release. Empty and waiting as the collar shows you the truth, but makes it impossible to finish. I’m sure the other marines would enjoy listening to you begging for a cock to get off, then crying when you can’t. Just think about how much they would love to see such weakness. The pure desperation as I deny you relief.”
The Slayer shakes his head, opening both legs until he’s slapped across the face. “Sorry… I won’t let him.”
“Tell me what you are going to do.”
“Fix John’s bad attitude. Show why he should… behave and not… say to run off.”
“Yes, exactly. I must not see an outburst over every little thing by the next time I call you back here. Understand? No more tantrums, or else. You do not want me to discipline that man because you got lazy or lied. He is far more trouble than the last Earth's staff, and we remember their fitting demises.”
Despite the collar, the words fill the man with fear at what this could mean for John. Flashbacks to the other times Davoth had disciplined someone, and the carnage inflicted, having the lust retreat to show genuine worry. The last time he messed up and caused an... incident still haunting him. It's hard to forget all the blood in the hotel, or the way the children helped clean up. You just can't...
He sits up and leans on the lord, both hands on the broad chest to ensure he can’t break his gaze. At last, finding the voice to speak up, he says, “I am a good, good breeder. Please don’t kill this human. I’ll have him understand! I can do this right.”
His heart races when Davoth chuckles and pushes them closer, chest to chest when he sees the other reach between his legs. The fingers stroking the underside of his dick as the man stares into the glowing eyes that mesmerize him. Sharp huffs keeping him from going crazy as he waits for the ruler to speak.
As the breeder squirms, the hand grabs his shaft and Davoth says, “That’s what I want to see. Now, take care of this”—gripping his own cock—“and use your mouth for more than begging. I’m sure you can figure out how to finish while down there…”
The hands retreat as the Slayer nods, and the lord leans back on a pillow. Both arms behind his head signaling his breeder should start.
The man’s girth twitches as lust floods his mind. The fear of death and punishment from before is gone as he fists his shaft, giving a few strokes while he slides back and closes his eyes. Deep breaths inhaling the scent of come and musk on Davoth’s dick as he licks the tip, soon having it slip inside to massage with his tongue. A soft exhale from above instructs him to keep going as the hand below stays busy. The odd sound or breath telling him this is doing something. As the grip on his own keeps a steady speed, his lips tighten, and he swirls the hot muscle over the glans. Keeping an even pace on both as he peers up at Davoth. The red of the lord's irises stare back, making him smile as he pulls off.
Their eyes lock as the Slayer grabs the base of the bigger cock, licking a vein on the underside as he never breaks his gaze. A soft exhale as he flicks his tongue over the slit. Savoring the taste when he returns to swallow more, circling the tip over the head to hear a groan, repeating this a few more times. His hand goes faster as he cannot think of anything but how much he needs this. Heat blossoms over his face, turning it a delicious shade of red as his cheeks burn and mind goes blank. A few light bobs having more fit as the whole thing twitches.
“There we are...” growls Davoth, a palm resting on top of the breeder’s hair. “It seems you are getting better. You can do more. Go on, come for me.”
As Davoth speaks, the Slayer offers a dreamy stare and lets the cock down his throat. Lidded eyes focused on nothing as his fist pumps, and he sucks in his cheeks. Not a single thought left in his brain but the coming orgasm when given such a simple order. A slow blink when his nose ends up in the thick hair, and he gives up on watching, both eyes shut again. The quiet praise from the ruler stimulus so he could come. The other hand now joining in to finger his ass, listening to more compliments. Such a sight getting a purr to hit his eardrums as the tip throbs, and he wants to groan.
This is the final push to have the Slayer shoot all over the mattress. There is nothing to stop it from happening when he unlatches and moans at the orgasmic bliss. Panting and coughing, he spills into the bedding as fingers stroke his hair and he quivers. A bit of drool runs down his chin as white splatters on the sheets and his palm. What feels like gallons released when nails scratch his scalp, and Davoth comments on how badly the breeder needed that. Said man nodding as the pulsing slows and more dribbles out. Head spinning and eyes crossed as he lets go of the shaft before he rolls over onto his back.
“That’s better,” says Davoth.
The Slayer nods and chuckles, stroking his torso. “Yeah...” touching his glans to make sure he stayed hard.
“Hmm, you are insatiable. I suppose I must take care of this, yes?”
“I need to repay... for Mars. Was gone too long.”
“Only one day apart, and you are acting like this? Continue.”
The Slayer shifts, getting on his stomach to spread his legs. “The demons were nice… but left too soon. John didn’t understand. Not yet, crave more. Make up for lost time. Want cock, come...”
The sire shifts, the bed sinking at the Slayer’s feet when a hand finds his back. Fingers trace the spine down to his crack, slipping them in to spread the sticky hole. A few slow thrusts inside getting the breeder to lift his ass as the digits rise and threaten to leave. The image of his prone form invites them to get replaced by something far more fitting. The man having a firm grip on a cheek; he opens the rim more to make this a proper invitation. A smile from the ruler when he agrees, the fat cock in the corner of his vision before pressing on the muscle to slip in without hesitation. The entrance pulling the lord in with the soft warmth it provided. A low groan shared by both as the Slayer’s arm moves and both wrists become restrained.
Davoth whispers, “Beautiful.” The word repeated several times as he sinks deeper into the hole, sighing when there is no more to fill his brood-boar.
The long-craved fullness again sating only a fraction of the warrior’s need before it leaves, and he knows what is coming.
As it slams inside, howling as it stretches him unlike any other. Certain no one else can do this so well as he gets pushed forward with sheer force. A hand on his skull to shove into the dirty sheets as the next thrust is harder, and he wants to scream into the bedding. Crying out after a few more that keep the same pace, the muffled sound heard over the other’s grunts. The animalistic noise the man creates so fitting as he knows this was the natural order of things. His ass bred and used like they expected him to carry another heir as a fist grabs the collar to yank his head back. More pressure presses on the nape of his neck, sharp teeth latching on to immobilize the breeder. The painful points not yet breaking skin as he behaves and lets out a choked sob.
Davoth makes sure it stays this way when grabbing the Slayer’s shoulders to left and bend his spine. This position offering a new angle to hear the man choke on gruff pleas caught in his throat. Even more trapped when the shaft hits a great spot, and he cries out. A faster speed silencing these sounds as his mind warps and becomes a broken instrument. Unable to function right when all he thinks about is how much his body wants to come. The wild thrill of pleasure is like pure electricity as he can’t get his limbs to move. As good as tied when teeth pierce flesh, and he is immobile. The bed-shaking thrusts go through him, the bucks pinning his frame. The girth having his leg part more when his toes curl and he fists the sheets. A hot breath on the skin setting it on fire as he gets fucked by what might as well be a machine. The steady pace keeping him in place as he groans.
There was nothing he could have asked to change. A perfect use of him by the sire.
The best ending he could have begged for coming when Davoth lets go and has him facedown and fertile ass up on the mattress. The position having the breeder chuckle, it gets interrupted by a low moan as hot come shoots across his back and into his hair. The first rope making him jump in surprise, he receives the load without a single word while the ruler’s prize paints his body as if to mark him. The warmth a true gift as he reaches behind to help, more spilling on his ass cheeks as the loose rim catches some. His other hand keeping the globes apart to be thorough. A soft exhale signaling this was everything as the heavy girth flops on the crack.
But the ruler is not done, a couple of digits slipping into the Slayer's messy tunnel as another fist locates his still-hard cock. A whine when a jolt shoots up the length, the marine turns to see both move. Right before he gasps when a second bolt of electricity rips through his body and has him moaning. His head rolls to the side when a thumb on each side finds the nice soft spot between his balls and ass, and he shuts down. A blinding white envelops his mind as he disconnects from the world, and the lord keeps going, causing his brain to reboot who knows how much later. His sides heaving and fingers shaking when the mattress dips and Davoth retreats from his hole. The lord resting at the head as he leaves the Slayer where he lays, staring at the mess they created. The large pool of come soaking the sheets and his legs, a satisfied sigh tells the used man this was what he had earned. The brood-stallion finding no reason to complain.
The Slayer then sits up and stretches, not being subtle in his hints of asking for more. A glance at the door saying the halls were so close, plenty of demons waiting to receive a round.
But like before, the sire has other plans, shaking his head. In a calm tone, ordering, “Get dressed and follow me. I had an addition put on your toy you will appreciate. Think of it as a gift and motivation to have the job done right.”
“What?” climbing out of bed as Davoth snaps everything clean. “Did you do something to him?”
“Yes, I made an alteration to the circle. You can see the effect when we reach him. There is no point explaining before that.”
The Slayer nods and hurries to pick up his clothes, finding the belt repaired as he slips it through the loops. The clink of the buckle causing Davoth to frown but motion for the other to follow out of the room. Back in the familiar halls as they take the same path the warrior always used after dropping the kids off for their naps. His body stuck to the ruler's side as he looks at the demons that stop and stare, a few sniffing the air or letting long tongues flop from gawking faces. The pink slits and mounds of the more bold creatures having him beam as he sees Davoth not react. The man knowing this means he might get another round as he grabs an arm and brushes his fingers over the hand.
Still no resistance when they slow by the door that was impossible for him to forget. The doorway opens to step into his bedroom, the space looking the same as before he left. The pieces of armor he last wore on the other Earth once more back on the shelves.
But this is not what seizes his attention. No, that is the blood and gory supplies spilled on the floor. The source of this lies on the ground, his body splayed and head lulled to the side as an unwilling holds a knife to carve a rune into the circle. Up both legs are several rows of stitches, the crude needlework doing a sufficient job of closing the wounds. The corporal too weak to move as he watches the zombie draw a curved line. Each motion far too smooth and controlled for such a brain-dead creature to do naturally.
Which it proves to be true when it looks up and hisses, lifting the blade with a wide jerky motion. The rough movement letting dark crimson drops flick onto the healed scars. The massive hole in the deformed skull watching the Slayer as he stares back, glancing at Davoth for the correct reaction to make. His hold on the ruler growing tighter as he parts his lips, silently hoping he didn't mess up, somehow.
The lord scratches his face and smiles, saying, “So it would seem the other unwilling were killed. I am surprised such a mortal creature had the fight in him to do that. Especially after what Orcus did.” With a shrug to free himself of the clingy breeder, he walks over for the demon to rise and collect the odd items off the ground.
When the Slayer can shake off the loss, he watches Davoth place a hand on John. The injured man gasps, his pale face looking sick and haggard. His body shivers when a palm covers the new symbol, and a crimson light comes from the area. Soft words in the lord’s other tongue flow out as the watching marine steps closer to stop at arm’s length. A low whine slipping from the Slayer’s lips when John regains some color to his complexion, his eyes opening to look at both as his mouth twists in a snarl. A growl heard when the hand leaves his circle, and he looks ready to yell a string of curses.
Instead, he glares at Davoth and remains quiet, curling up to hide his torso from their stares as the warrior sees the stitches are gone. No scarring on the shaking thighs as John hides his head.
A sigh has the Slayer's shoulders fall. Safe… Yes, he is safe.
“Slayer, what do you think?” asks Davoth. “This is the only time I will let you test it before you return to base. I must check if activation is easier with the change.”
“Yeah,” chuckles the Slayer, perking up now his mood had improved. Already kneeling in front to touch John's face and see him act more lively when sitting up.
The amount of blood spilled should be worrying, but seeing how he reacts to a soft caress quiets such fears. A small smile and laugh from John like a cocktail of stimulants to the Slayer’s pleasure receptors.
The breeder wants more... Must take it while the situation is safe.
A gentle caress on the top of John’s head is enough to have him relax. Then shift into a more willing posture as his legs spread, his open thighs inviting the warrior to bend over and run his tongue over the healed letters; savoring the clean skin as it tastes like a fresh meal. The tip getting a sample of the entire torso before the Slayer sits up to see a drunken look come over the corporal’s face. A stupid laugh telling all he was at last of the right mind to fuck as he grabs the Slayer’s shirt collar.
Pulled together, their lips almost touch when John pushes him down and climbs on top. A hand pushing on his chest to not move when the other grins and whispers what he would do to them. Naked and wet, they would not waste time; the man watching John slip a finger into his hole as he sighs and fondles the leaking breast, getting milk to soak the white top.
Both smiling when the Slayer's two tops are almost ripped trying to get them out of the way. The pair grinning when the breeder grabs his user's shoulder.
This has Davoth step forward and ask, “Well, what do you think? Should I keep this addition?”
“This is what it’s supposed to, to, to do?” the Slayer groaning when a nipple gets twisted and he bucks so hard John yelps. “More… eager. This makes him better?”
“Yes.”
“I love it,” grabbing John’s chin. With a chuckle bringing them closer for the man to stare into the green eyes that visually ravish his body. The gaze snapping back when the Slayer's large hand finds the other's slick hole, slipping inside as they both shudder at the ease it accepts and squeezes the bigger digits.
The Slayer asks if John agrees with the sentiment. The smaller marine nods, his expression contorting so he looks intoxicated. This by far the best answer anyone could give as far as the breeder was concerned. Which means the corporal gets rewarded with the fingers curling and grinding on his walls. And in turn, John reaches behind to find the zipper on his partner's pants.
“I am happy to see you both are content with this,” interrupts the ruler of Hell, walking over to grab John’s arm as he whines. The sound cut off when he is pressed against the stronger body and changes his attitude. Looking up with starry eyes when Davoth adds, “I am sad that we must end this so soon, but you both have duties to fulfill on Earth. Now,” touching the circle to have John snap out of the trance and stiffen in the now unwanted embrace.
The adoration and lust gone, John freezes until the hold leaves and the Slayer gets the same thing done to him. Both shrink under the uncaring gaze of the lord as he remains silent for the two to get dressed. That done, the pair stand straight when a portal opens, and they are told to go back to their sleeping quarters.
The men ask what happened, John demanding more information when denied a proper answer.
Davoth gives the Slayer a glare, a fist curling at his side as a warning. The warrior getting the hint, he touches the corporal's shoulder and says to shut up. They had training to get done, was late for it already.
John looks stunned but nods, not pulling away when his hand gets grabbed for them to exit. The portal opens more to see their beds. A last look at the lord having him promise they would receive answers to these questions soon enough. Just needed to remember this is what they wanted; be grateful he did this for the pair.
Both show they are skeptical about this reply with raised brows. Davoth proves he doesn’t care and has the portal shift its location. The doorway under them to drop by the rear wall. Landing with a grunt as the door opens, John is on his back in the Slayer’s lap. Right as the entrance opens and Cody stops in the doorway to stare. His face twisting with anger at the sight.
“Where the hell have you two been hiding?” he snaps, stalking over to loom above them like a baron. “The schedule said today's training was to begin five minutes ago! Did you think I would not check here again?”
“No...” mumbles the Slayer, picking up John as he stands.
“Not a good first impression, marine. I assumed somebody of your rank would understand punctuality. Do you want extra jobs?”
“Blame our superior,” interjects John, stepping forward. “We had an unexpected meeting with someone way higher up the chain. No one gave a proper warning. Sarge sprung it on us while with the doctor.”
“Oh, really?” Just then a beep tells the technician he got a message, opening it to scan the words on the screen. With a click of the tongue, he frowns but says in a neutral tone, “Seems Kelly covered your ass this time. Lucky you. Come on, we need to start. Slayer, what type of kit are you familiar with? What did you get trained with?”
The Slayer notes the change in demeanor from Cody as he nods, following the man out of the room as he makes sure John stays close. The brand he remembers from the one used in Hell named, having Cody correct it to something else. He agrees, soon receiving a new kit that looks similar enough to the old one. He smiles as he holds the box, congratulating himself that this slight lie worked as they begin training.
In no time on the floor with a task as the scientist that called watches, pacing a safe distance from John as they get to work identifying the problem. The other marine looking so close to snapping when he tells the worried owner to calm down, the fake patience laid on thick. The Slayer does his best to not laugh when she questions Cody about the pair. A very peaceful tech assuring her he was here to keep things under control. A slow groan of bending metal having her sit down as she mumbles about tissue samples.
But by the end, she calms down and rushes to resume running the machine. The scientist wearing a weary smile, says it’s performing better than before. As it hums, thanking them all as Cody responds with a grin and pulls out his PDA, leading them to the next task. His voice taking on a superior tone, the Slayer refuses to listen to any of the steps of filling out forms. Most of it is white noise until he sees how to bypass most of it by mashing the buttons. Then continues not caring, already reading the job’s details, seeing they got to mess with a mainframe when he gets handed a pair of gloves. A warning to not get electrocuted or lose a finger having him accept the attire and hold them close to the chest.
However, by the end, he cannot say the day was bad. At least once back on base. Sweaty and covered in oil, he wipes the fluids on his pants. A slight curl of the lips showing joy at the fact he managed to not get yelled at by Cody too much. His ass is safe from a rough ride for now. The men excused after training to find food and relax, they watch the man walk off before letting out sighs of relief.
John then smiles as he grabs the Slayer’s arm and drags him to the main cafeteria for dinner. Sat down by a window, the corporal leaves to return with trays of food. The other marine stares at his meal as he wonders what to do. Letting John have it as he says he isn’t hungry, watching as the burger and fries disappear. The sight calming him of the day’s excitement, resting his head in a hand to watch and note how loud the greasy sandwiches made the other groan. And how much salt he had to consume. Such interesting things Earth humans were sometimes...
His mouth shut as John thanks him and asks if he wanted anything sweet, would get it for the Slayer, had some money from before the transfer. But the warrior shakes his head, saying that won’t feed the baby.
This earns him a raised brow, but then it’s followed by a shrug, and they walk to their quarters. The room not as full as the night before, they strip and flop on their beds. The creak of the frames mixing with their sighs when resting on the thin pillows. A quiet falls over the space as the only other men in the place snore. This the perfect time to ask an important question he had ignored while enjoying his break from actual duties.
Now rolling on his side, the Slayer looks at John as he fixes his blanket and stares at the ceiling. Resting his chin on a pillow, the bigger marine asks, “About before, in the palace...”
“Is that where we were? I can see why the bastard only visits. Ya got a nice bed...”
“I guess. But what did Davoth mean? That this is what we... wanted?” He watches as John taps a finger on his chest, leaning in to search for anything to explain the gesture or a sign he might give an answer. Next asking, “Did Orcus say something?”
“The demon took what he could and left. That’s it. All I know is one thing, and that is he is going on the list. Right under his boss.”
“Yeah... No surprise.”
“Did Davoth mention anything after we got separated? Is that why you’re asking?”
“Told me to. To keep you in line... after both... outbursts. Gotta stop trying to fight him. You could still die.”
“I get that... Even if the temptation is so strong.”
“Please don’t.”
“Hey, I learned my lesson, promise,” flashing a smile while giving a dismissive wave. “Or at least until we can harm him. Then the deal is done.”
The Slayer nods and lies on his stomach to stare at the much more boring wall. A hand curling into a fist under his pillow. Just saying, “I hate seeing you hurt. Not good for us. Trust me.”
John does not respond to these words, instead changing the subject with a terse tone. “Go to sleep. We had a long day and need rest.”
The sound of movement has the Slayer see the other roll over, facing away from him. A sharp exhale showing this conversation was over. A pang of sadness at this reaction having the marine watch his ally, not moving as said man’s breathing slows. Only when he is sure the other has fallen asleep does he sit up, pulling out his PDA to not get questioned as he continues staring. The occasional push of a button ensures none say a word to him. His mind racing as he wonders what Orcus did to John.
The marauder wouldn’t have done anything that bad, right? Well, he wasn't dead. And the lesson was learned...
This last thought has him growl and stand up, hurrying to the exit when his PDA beeps. In the hall and around the corner, he reads an email from Kelly. The message brief, it says they had to discuss future housing plans, the tone as demanding as you can be without threatening bodily harm. Which means he would need to hurry.
With a sigh, he puts the device back in his pocket and sprints through the empty halls, the walls and lights a blur. Only when he finds the correct room does he slow, fixing his outfit as he walks inside. The Sergeant is again behind his desk—though by himself this time—as he looks up and motions to the lone chair on the other side. The Slayer walking over as the door slides shut, and they are alone together. The exit closed as he gets ordered to sit down, a red light turning on by the only escape. Trapped and cornered, he obeys.
Cold eyes freezing him to the spot as Kelly asks, “So, how did you enjoy your first day on base?”
Notes:
Oh, looks like we get to have some fun with John and his new "feature"... And what will happen to our lovely Slayer with Kelly getting him so alone? It should be fun, no matter how it ends. If you have a guess, I would love to hear it.
And even if you don't, feedback and other comments are welcome!
Chapter 8: Sweet Treats And Sweeter Rewards
Summary:
The Slayer spends some alone time with Kelly, and both marines learn about Davoth's surprise. A new bond foraged between the battle-scarred men.
Notes:
I'm not sure what to say... This chapter was interesting to write. Nonetheless, I am unable to apologize for the number of times breeding comes up.
I am also not sure how this one was so long. I hope the chapter break makes it easier if you like slightly shorter chapters.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The night was going to last a lot longer than the Slayer had expected. The email to discuss housing had been a ruse, since only the first ten minutes focus on this. And even that was too long for how little it mattered to the marine right now. All he had to do was behave, and they would lock him and John in a private room away from the rest of the base. Less questions from non-followers while at the same time allowing the doctors to better monitor him.
And the entire time, the Slayer braces for a dismissal. His ears perked, listening as he tenses for the inevitable exit, waiting to bolt out the door. The red light of the lock making him count the seconds.
This office was too isolated. And why was Kelly having him so alone? There was no logic to doing it at this late hour. Most humans were asleep, and having John would make sure he behaved…
But no matter what he assumed, he realizes the night would be long when he’s told to kneel in the middle of the floor. An odd chill going down his spine at the harsh tone used for the order.
Then he hears the clink of a belt after he turns around. A glance at the door showing the red light was still on, reminding him that the room remained locked. Seeing over a shoulder the older man stands behind his desk and blinks.
Raising a brow, Kelly asks, “What’s the problem, marine? Can’t you follow orders?”
“What are you doing?” turning to face the superior. “Did Davoth allow this?”
“Yes”—smoothing his shirt as he approaches—”and I won’t argue with you. Let’s get this over with so I can sleep.”
The Slayer frowns at the reply, wondering if he was really hearing that tone. Most are more excited by this. Or at least sounded interested in the idea. Most touching him when within reach, Kelly crosses his arms while the marine gets on his knees, now at a better height to see the buckled belt and unopened zipper. Eyes flicking up to the serious expression he wears when the Sergeant shifts and pulls on a pair of blue stretchy gloves, a small box in hand.
The look of utter confusion on the marine’s face has Kelly sigh and walk behind his back, the older man setting the box down to reveal three sets of cuffs. The circles a couple inches thick, they are bigger than the Slayer’s hand, making them easy to slip on and hang off his wrists like ill-fitting bracelets. Only to tighten and apply a slight pressure before they stop constricting. This repeated on his forearms and, after getting shoved to the ground, his ankles. A tap on each circle having him hear a set of clicks, then a consistent buzz. His limbs totally immobile when he tries pulling on the fetters. Shuddering as he sees Kelly walk around with a needle and a few vials.
“Sergeant…” the marine says before he is silenced with a glare.
“Do not ask me why I have to do this! I don’t understand what the venerable lord requires. But the quicker you cooperate, the faster we all can just…” sighing as he checks the needle. Then shoves it right into the Slayer’s neck, filling the entire barrel with blood. A quick check of the contents, it empties into the first vial.
A push has the Slayer on his side while the other taps the cylinder, the crimson drops still inside gone. The process repeated next in his pecs and arm, hearing disgusted grunts from the other as he watches his blood fill two more vials.
For the final draw, the size of the needle changes, this one much longer to glint under the lights. Both glancing at the broad point as they know how this is going to end. Neither is happy with the outcome. But it still goes into his gut and reaches deeper than before to have him groan and see more than blood extracted. A strange swirl of white and yellow dancing with the red when collected, the mixture churns and foams when forced into the fourth vial. The color changes to an unnatural orange as Kelly deepens his frown, closing the lid to set with the others. After a last tap to have it cleaned, the needle gets placed into the box. The container in his hand, he stands and turns away.
All the bigger man can do is watch as the fluids get set on the desk, Kelly pulling out a small bowl to sit beside them. A glance at the Slayer, he pours the four vials into the vessel, the liquid mixed with a now gloveless finger as he mumbles to no one. His other arm shakes as it holds the lip to help swirl the mixture. The Sergeant so close to spilling the contents as he then lifts the dish with unsteady hands, the bloody digit painting his spell circle. A shaky breath having his shoulders fall with a heavy sigh when he sets down the blood.
When he turns back around, he smiles for a split second before his face falls again. The crimson hand dropping at his side before he walks over to undo the cuffs on the Slayer’s ankles, growling at the marine to stand. Not much coaxing needed to get the bigger man up and at the desk to stare at the blood bowl. Quickly discovering the liquid is now a rotted brown as the stench of milk and sweat wafts over his nostrils. Clenched fingers on the nape of his neck keeping him still while the sides now glow with soft red lines. The softest of a whisper coming from the contents as the grip tightens and Kelly leans forward.
In a low voice, he says, “I’ll keep this simple, Slayer. What I’m about to do stays in this room. That means you won’t let out any sounds that have people asking questions. No screaming, crying, whatever the fuck noises you usually make. Nobody needs to know or have a reason to inquire. And you don’t say a word if they wonder what you were doing. Got that?”
“What are you saying?” turning the best he could to see the Sergeant stare down with brows raised in worry. “What are you planning to… to do?”
“I just wanted to go home… You understand that, right, Slayer? I demanded the curse to be removed, not this.”
The man nods, knowing how delicious the promise of safety is. How much he craved any freedom he could cling to. His eyelids lowering as he faces forward, waiting for this to start.
Neither says a word when the hand leaves his neck to grab the collar, pulling on the piece to have the stone pressed. As the bigger man embraces the lust ensnaring his mind, he smiles and feels Kelly flinch. The sound of retreating footsteps having him stand and break the fetters. The cuffs much easier to snap as his prize tries to leave.
First John didn’t understand… Now this human? What is wrong with this Earth? These people had to realize how wonderful this opportunity was. He would not deny such a gift…
The Slayer grabs Kelly’s belt before the other can react, dragging them together as he sinks to his knees and has the buckle break in his hand. A shout scolds the careless—and way too lustful—marine. The censure cut off when said man pulls the zipper down with his teeth, and the fun surprise of black fabric invites a slow lick over the bulge; a sharp gasp having him look up with a grin. Then frown when he is pushed away and told that's not how this works. Kelly was not the one getting collected from.
“No,” agrees the Slayer. “But we should do more. Not fair otherwise.”
“No, marine. I can turn it off and leave you here. Stand down, or I will send a message to Davoth.”
“Are you like an imp? Do you want to serve more?” doing the best he could to figure out this odd reaction. A slight ache comes from so much thought being put into a non-lethal situation. The snares returning to drag this colossal waste of brain power into the dark depths of his subconscious. Now saying, “Yeah, you are right. We need to…” picking up the man to sit on the desk and push onto his back. A chuckle deep in the Slayer’s chest having Kelly glance at the collar before he becomes distracted.
The Slayer wonders what makes this guy moan as he feels the firm muscles on this user, noting that his body is nicely toned. Which is not a surprise, if the bulging biceps and the massive monsters Kelly hunted meant anything. The big guns in every picture having the Slayer wonder about this superior. Like if it was the same for the one in those tight, still-untouched pants. Fingers slipping into the crotch as he purrs and thinks what Davoth would do to praise Kelly. Had to do it right and not get this man angry.
Oh yeah…
He tears the pants to shreds as the Sergeant yells to stop; then screaming louder when his underwear joins them on the ground. A proper look at this new gift having the breeder beam at a cock bigger than an imp’s.
“Marine, what the hell—” Kelly bellows, a hand slapped over his mouth as the Slayer laughs and scolds him.
“Thought we’re being quiet? Not different for you.”
The older man tries to remove the palm gagging him, struggling against the unyielding grip. But he stops after it becomes impossible to move as the fingers threaten to shatter his jaws. The warrior just smiles back as he wraps his other hand around Kelly’s throat. Not enough to choke, but to send a message. The Sergeant understanding the new command as he glares, the hands that had clawed at the gag falling to the side.
The hold on his head and neck retreats after a tense moment, letting Kelly sit up on his elbows to growl at the marine. His eyes shifting as a quick motion grabs his attention. Any anger he had gone when his expression morphs into one of pure regret. His mouth snapped shut as the breeder he was ordered to collect from unbuckles his belt and kicks off his boots, almost tearing his clothes off to loom over.
A fist on his cock, the Slayer strokes the soft shaft while he rips off the older man’s shirt. A low moan slips out when his hand speeds up, and he whispers the same praise he was told by Davoth. “Beautiful…” nuzzling the crook of Kelly’s neck as he sees the Sergeant has been busy all day, the smell of sweat mixing with the smeared blood.
“Marine, this is not what I had in mind! Had something better. You know, to end this quick… To not regret the incident later.”
“Why not? I am a good breeder. And you touched the stone…” slowing his hand while letting out a low groan, now standing over his user to cast a shadow with the hard shaft. “I make you come. That’s how this works every time.”
The Sergeant nods and sighs, asking, “Who says you were told to do that?”
The Slayer pauses, tilting his head to the side. “What?”
“If I say that you can’t do that? What would you do?”
“I like doing that,” swaying his hips while licking the superior’s abs. “I know what Davoth expects. That is my duty.”
“Then I guess you can put it off,” flinching when the breeder grips his hips. “Or do you think rebelling will put you in my good graces?”
The Slayer pulls his hands away, averting his gaze when Kelly sits up and grabs the collar. A harsh pull on the circle brings them face-to-face as a stern growl orders him to go around and bend over in front of the chair. The gruff voice has him obeying before he can think of saying no, groaning as a palm rests on the small of his back. Both palms flat on the desktop, he hears the snap of gloves and sees a new bowl in the Sergeant’s hand.
A push on his spine makes his chest rest on the cool metal as his ass sticks out. Not at all hiding his need when the other takes his time getting started. Laughing when this earns a smack on the thigh, then an arm slipping between his legs. The strange smooth texture of these gloves are alien to him. However, he ignores the sensation once the fist grips the base of his dick while a couple of fingers find his taint, both stroking the flesh. This is nice and slow, having him open for more access to the good parts. A slight curl of the lips showing his approval. A low purr shakes the desk as he spreads his legs and arches his spine. This seems to be enough for the other to speed up, acting desperate, like the hands wanted to make him go crazy. The quick jerks become odd as his motions cannot act in sync.
The Slayer chuckles as he shifts to watch, closing off access with a loud smack of his thighs. Next, he rolls over to grab Kelly and spin around, having the Sergeant's chest against the back of his chair as the breeder smirks.
In a husky voice, the Slayer says, “Aren’t getting come. Not like that. Let me do this right. I can get you ready, ready, ready for this…”
As he speaks, he forces the other to kneel on the seat and open his legs. Looking down, he scans what he had to work with, touching the still-soft cock as he promises to fix this minor setback. A play with the tip having it twitch as he slips his own between the legs, rubbing the head on the muscles to have the slit leak. A shudder at the contact, Kelly doesn’t resist when his powerful thighs are closed around the massive girth.
Or when the Slayer has him sink into the chair as he holds onto the sculpted torso. With a sigh, he kisses a shoulder blade, praising his user. A few slow thrusts make the words flow out like cooling lava. Then his tongue licks the circle on the Sergeant’s neck, not caring that he laps up his own blood when it gets the other to clench, squeezing his cock tight. A groan blowing hot air on a bicep, heating the skin.
This is the place he grabs to shove Kelly into the leather, increasing the pace. The shaft grinds on the warm space it creates, feeling bliss as the other remains still. Save the occasional flinch and gasp when the Slayer leans in to press his lips to a different spot. Or the odd sound as his cock sticks out to rub on the superior’s length; a peer over a shoulder showing it likes this attention. Making sure to give it all the care it needs.
More so when a hand finds the head again. This time, giving it pleasure to rise as the receiver muffles his groans into the chair. Right before the Slayer chuckles and has him almost screaming as the arm moves faster. The dull thump of the fist hitting the seat contained within the office walls.
“Enjoy that, Sir?” the Slayer whispers, the title strange but fitting on his tongue. “I can…” groaning as the thighs shake, and he has to hold them closed to get more friction. “Did that before. My guard fixed… that issue well. Just like this.”
“Marine…” the firm tone Kelly used in every conversation before gone, his voice wavering as he seems to hunt for the appropriate word. “This is not what I meant. I was going to—” snapping his mouth shut as his cock throbs and he bites the leather. The hand on his shaft getting it just right to leak like a bad pipe.
“Horrible plan. Mine’s better, and more fun. You are great.” His dick shows its agreement with a hard twitch, the head lifting to press on the soft area by the tight hole.
“Don’t you dare…” a snarl with no teeth behind it aimed at the breeder.
Such an expression was so submissive, timid… yielding. The difference in attitude is so wonderful. The temptation to not listen makes the Slayer lean in and grab the Sergeant's face. Wide eyes staring back as he lowers his eyelids and pulls out from the dirty thighs.
In seconds, Kelly gets sat in the chair properly, his legs open to show his erection. The offering laid before the breeder even more tempting. But he knows his orders and obeys. With a hand on each thigh, he lifts them up and together as the man spits out curses and odd threats. The promise to make the Slayer clean the dirtiest restrooms on the base echoing in the room. Then silenced as the threatened marine grabs Kelly’s face, bringing them closer. The empty lies muted when he steals the superior's attention.
Kelly tastes different from most of the men he had kissed. The taste of blood and a sharp, cold winter wind snapping him back to the job. A soft moan muffled by the pair when fire and ice slaps his tongue. His mass pushing down on the other as he continues enjoying the hot blushing skin of the submissive Sergeant. A groan from the older man when the two heads grind together. Such an obvious need screaming to the breeder as he pulls away to stare at the stunned Kelly. Green eyes crossed and his body shivering as he grips the arms of his chair and stares at the wall of muscle in front of him. Random words and sounds say everything about his current state as the excited brood-stallion stabs him in the guts. The Slayer’s grunts show the mood as he cannot keep an even pace, whispering he is close.
“Wait…” mumbles Kelly, grabbing the head to stroke.
“That’s good…” is all the Slayer says before he pauses, the first rope hitting the Sergeant in the face.
Both gawk for the opposite reason as more spills on Kelly. His entire front gets coated in white as the hand never stops stroking, still following orders despite his current state. The fist pumping out seed until there is nothing left and the breeder pulls away. Both panting as they stare at the mess, letting the load dribble onto the seat and the superior’s opening thighs. Such a sight feeling similar to the Slayer as when he got used up and could not move. Out of instinct, checking the room for a hungry demon to take over.
But when none appear, the Slayer steps back, waiting for another command.
Kelly seems more himself again, snapping as he points to the empty bowl on the desk. His face blank, he takes the vessel and collects everything on him and the seat. Not saying a word when standing to place it in front of him. A bare finger mixes this one too, the white liquid swirling and splashing on his hand. The coated digit applying a liberal amount of the seed to the circle as he sighs. The dim light in his eyes dead as he shudders and turns to watch the Slayer.
“Marine…” he says, rubbing a shoulder that has a dark hand-shaped bruise.
“Should I take care of you?” reaching out when he sees Kelly’s softening shaft. A glance at the bowl having the Sergeant step away.
“No,” he replies, “go back to bed. That is an order, marine.”
“But I can do more. Only finished once.”
“And I did the job! That is all I need from you.”
“Never got to blow—”
“Goodnight, breeder,” stepping forward as the Slayer lights up. A grip on the collar ending the elation when he pushes the stone and the bigger man aside.
On his knees, the warrior blinks and glares at the older man for a second. Then he clears his throat and stands, staring at Kelly as he sits in the dirty chair and turns around. The Slayer, getting the hint, rushes to get dressed. The silence deafening as the seat remains turned away, offering some grace when he sees the door is unlocked, the green light calling to him. About to escape when Kelly says his name, looking at him again.
“Remember what I told you before?”
“I know.”
“That means everyone on base.”
“Why? Scared of competition?”
“Shut up,” spitting out the words. “The men already have thoughts about what you are. Do not offer more ammo. For both our sake. Unless you want John to hear. His methods of dealing with problems still need work. It would be a shame to lose a marine over something so stupid as a simple ritual.”
“Yeah, I understand.”
“Good. You are dismissed.”
The Slayer squints, but keeps his mouth shut and stomps out of the room, rushing for the safety of his bed. Like all the other worlds he lived on, it was better under the covers than roaming at such an hour. The door closing behind him as he makes sure to not disturb the man that sleeps next to him. Letting out a soft sigh as he sits down and kicks off his boots, he lies down and closes his eyes. The snores of the slumbering men helping him curl up and drone out the sounds of what he had done in his head.
***
The first two weeks pass with little incident for the Slayer. After training finished and he received his full toolset, the rest seems to fall into place. The days are longer than he was used to though, and he is still adjusting. But that might be because he is waiting for something to interrupt. On watch for the moment this situation changes.
Or maybe it’s the lack of Davoth to make him lose track of time. The collar has barely been touched since his first full day, which meant few instances of disappearing to sate the ruler. Plus, John was keeping his promise to not try anything.
He was honest. Bold and stubborn, but truthful.
So was Davoth. However, despite the bluntness, he had a way with words that the other marine could never match. Not with the human’s more reactive style of doing things.
However, that hardly matters right now as he holds Baal in his arms, and they feed. Again, alone in Kelly’s office, there are far fewer needles and vials as the child feasts on the offered breast. Tiny hands latch to his chest as they pull the nipple with a snort, glancing up as if to challenge him. An imagined order to end the meal and see what their father would do when he found out. The Slayer just leaning back in his chair to not even entertain that delusion.
Staying silent when Kelly leans over to stroke their head. This distraction is a blessing when the heir calms down, turning to look at the older man with a smile and a sharp pull on the breast. The hand rubbing a tusk, showing a strange interest in the teeth for a second.
Then he turns to the Slayer and comments, “Baal will make for a frightening opponent one day. I hope to never find out how dangerous they become firsthand. Can you imagine the destruction?”
“They are Davoth’s children…”
“How true. To expect less from the venerable lord,” about to stroke a plump cheek when they turn to unlatch, the finger finding the wet nipple instead.
Both flinching at the contact as the Slayer pulls back with a growl, holding the child over his exposed torso. A glare at the hand as it remains outstretched, he says, “Don’t try that shit!”
“Like I would do that on purpose. That night with you was on Davoth’s orders alone. I do not reward those who choose the easy life. Such underachievement is not by your merit or effort. It is the lord’s will that you ever got such a simple duty as a breeder. Anyone can get knocked up and give birth with the right parts. Marines are foraged and honed from a rare mettle.”
“Are you fucking with me? I’m both.”
“Hardly. I cannot imagine anyone giving up so much respect for pregnancy. You had a position and prowess that many wished for. Davoth said you had a full career and multiple metals from your old lord. I cannot think of a reason to give that all up. All the potential tossed in the garbage for the collar.”
“Shut the fuck up,” he hisses, jumping to his feet when Baal whines and he has to calm them down. A glare for Kelly when he adds, “I still fight. Got you pinned that night. Can repeat. I would love to, to, to watch you squirm again.”
“And I want you to remember who is the one in charge. He would love to see you getting into trouble. And what he might do to the new toy if deemed necessary.”
The Slayer bristles at the threat but refuses to let the conflict continue. With a growl, he sits down and fixes his tops, holding Baal against his chest. “Remember, such threats have a limit. Will only work…for so long.”
Kelly grunts at this response, leaning back in his chair to watch the breeder put the child to sleep. Soft breathing and a hoof in their mouth to show they are fast asleep, the older man takes Baal to hold. A quiet sigh softens his face as he watches them grab his shirt and cuddle closer. A slow blink having him turn away and look at the Slayer. In a far kinder tone, he tells the marine, “Enjoy this peaceful life while you can. You’ll miss this when it’s gone.”
“Fuck you.”
“We can discuss that part of your duties at a different time. For now, you need to stay fit and get ready for more tests. The doctors want to find the best method to nurture developing heirs. That means you won’t complain, no matter what they do. Be thankful each limited the number of machines used.”
“If you think that… I am going. Going to do that! I would rather kill—” already on his feet.
“Slayer!” interrupts John as he rushes inside. Eyes wide and pistol in hand, the corporal stops upon seeing the other marine. His gaze flicking to Kelly and Baal, he lets out a long exhale and lowers the weapon. A calm washing over the man as he walks over and says, “Fuck, don’t go missing like that. I was about to shoot someone. Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“The email said to hurry. Baal was hungry, needed extra feeding. Especially after yesterday. Missed their usual time.”
“Don’t blame me for that one. That was an honest mistake. I mentioned before why I do not touch supercomputers.”
“Cody guaranteed the finger... technically… could get reattached.”
“See, told ya. Nothing to worry about.”
“The blood ruined the chips. The entire box.”
“And I informed the doctor to call me if they need a suitable replacement. Fingers are numerous for a reason. Losing one ain’t deadly.”
“Davoth promised he would fix it. You’re welcome.”
“Don’t tell me…”
“No, but my nipples did hurt.”
“Listen, I am very sorry. There’s nothing funny about the whole incident.”
“I know. Don’t do it again.”
“Will do, promise. But do not worry, I have something to repay that torture. A small thing to make it up for you. How do you enjoy soft serve?”
“What’s being served soft?”
“No, that’s what the dish is called. It’s like ice cream, but my god is it so much better.”
“Okay, sure…” trying to recall if he should know what the man was talking about. “I’ll trust your judgment.”
“Oh boy, you are going to love this,” placing a hand on the Slayer’s shoulder to lead out of the room. A last glance at Kelly and Baal, the Sergeant waves them off as he stands from his chair. A small portal open on the desk when the door shuts, and the two marines hurry down the hall.
Now in the cafeteria, John makes the Slayer sit at an empty table while he hurries through the crowded space to a lunch counter. A couple of trays in hand when he chats with the server, like every time he orders. A palm on the countertop as he smiles at the man and woman making the meals, pointing to a bunch of things as he talks. One tray full of various dishes, the other only has two bowls containing white food in the shape of a swirl with spoons. With a wave to the pair, he jogs back to divide the meal, handing over a bowl and a spoon to the Slayer as he stares with a wide grin. Sat next to the warrior when he grabs his own to take a big bite of the soft serve.
“Can you believe our luck?” he says. “There was still plenty for us both to get a full serving! Oh man, I was worried I would never get this again once on Mars. This is rare enough on the Earth bases.”
“That’s good…” taking the spoon out to poke the soft substance, seeing how it slices through the top to almost melt from the weak friction alone.
“Yeah, this will slap your taste buds like a backhand in the best way possible. It’s creamy and light, and oh fuck, delicious no matter what flavor. This shit is perfect for Hell. Trust me, you’ll understand after the first bite. Eat that right now. Once it melts, the soft serve doesn’t taste the same.”
“You sure about that?” sniffing the spoonful to get a milky scent.
“Yep. The added air makes the difference.”
The Slayer raises a brow, then shrugs, shoving the whole scoop in his mouth. Then stabs the spoon back in the bowl for another, letting the first one melt to have him gush with excitement as it proves John very right. The next only having more flavor explode to punch his tongue.
This was good; great compared to the heavy foods that he usually had to eat for the other marine. Every word that was used to describe it correct as the sweet essence calls him to shovel the whole thing down. Which he justifies when some turns liquid and he takes bigger bites. The softest of a smile curling his lips as he licks the bottom clean and tosses the dish to the side.
“I can assume you liked the food,” chuckles John, only halfway through his own. “Told you.”
“Yes, thanks.” The smile remains as he savors the lingering flavor and says, “That was unnecessary.”
“Yeah, that’s why you have it.”
“Know what I mean.”
“And you’re welcome.”
The Slayer rolls his eyes, grabbing a mango slice from the pile he was served. A slight brow twitch when he finds the flesh seasoned. He still eats it.
“Besides, thank Chelsea. She was the one who told me.”
“Who?”
“A woman at the main front desk. I knew her before the transfer. Used to grab her stuff, and she would reveal important information. I met her a couple of days ago and got her number.”
“Hmm, give my thanks,” the corners of his lips falling as he stuffs another slice into his mouth. A slow chew distracting the man as he does his best to not have his hands shake. “What’s she like?”
“Eh, the usual type that works there. Fake nice to guests, but knows all of the wonderful intel for those she loves. Not like Kelly, trust me. She’s safe.”
“Good,” pushing his tray aside.
What was going on? Why is John saying this? Did John hear about him and Kelly? Was this leading to a discussion or gunfire?
No, can’t raise those questions. Not yet.
Out loud, he asks, “She good company? Like for a walk?”
“I suppose. Never had a reason to wonder. I was more interested in some stress relief. Had techniques that helped to not punch a hole in the wall after a long day. Should ask for some again. Would get the bastard off my back, right? That’s what Davoth wants.”
The Slayer nods, his heart racing in his ears. This was not good. He does not know how informed John was from this scant information. And the way he talks is not comforting.
What kind of stress relief? Was that more than sitting down to chat?
“What’s with the face?” asks John to interrupt his thoughts. “You okay?”
“Huh?” realizing his frown had gotten deeper. The muscles relaxing a little, he answers, “Yeah. Just thinking about meeting new people. Should do that.”
“That would help with the cryptic aura that surrounds you. Some assume you’re plotting something, though no one can agree what. Many are guessing it will end in a lot of gunfire and you on the run.”
“Wish that was the case.”
“I keep telling everyone that, but who trusts the guy known for beating up his superior?”
“Could I start with a certain… front desk worker?” scratching his chin while averting his gaze.
“Yeah, sounds good. I think she might help with your image. A positive rumor can’t hurt.”
The Slayer hums and flashes a quick smile, his mind going blank with how easy that was. Had expected at least a little questioning…
So he says, “Now I owe you one, right?”
“Why?” John blinking as he picks through the mango on his tray. “This is for my IOU. That and dessert. You have nothing to call a debt.”
“Food and help?” motioning to the trays.
“I am using the shared funds, remember? Makes no sense, but I run out of my part of the money a couple of days after they deposit it. Mister Lord of Hell giving so much for child support is the reason I eat every day.”
“I didn't realize...”
“Also, aid comes with this nice package,” chuckling as he motions over his body. “Consider this the bundle deal,” now flexing an arm as he laughs.
“Are you sure? How is this setup fair?” making a mental note to cut back on food consumption after today. Would have to explain how the fetus eats, but that needed to be discussed sooner or later.
“Yeah, don’t know,” says John with a shrug. “Royal breeders get better pay than marines. Which makes more sense after saying that out loud. Not like I have a reason to complain. I’m your problem, so… Besides, I am not doing nothing all day while you work. I make a great, mildly inconvenient assistant.”
“I guess…” furrowing his brows as he thinks. None of this feels normal. There had to be more this guy wants. Even those who didn't want to fuck him had something to gain.
But that means he should show thanks, right? Yeah, John turned him down when he offered himself before, but he meant it. No matter what he did, the offer was not void as far as he was concerned.
That doesn’t mean he should… He was told no last time. It would be dangerous if he pushed too much. An angered former-ally was often more deadly than any enemy.
What else did he have? It was a very universal currency. Even a demon knew what to do when offered a hole. A simple approach to reward without risking a lot. Isn’t that why he had the collar? Davoth understood the exchange and ensured he used it. Not like he could trade or work it to elevate his position. He’s already pregnant, nursing, and working.
It’s all he will do for a while. And he needed the man to realize he was thankful. It was wrong to ignore the situation and make John think he was being taken advantage of. Or could be in the future…
With a sigh, the Slayer slides closer and says, “I still know a repayment… is required.” As the warrior speaks, he takes both trays to get rid of, both men walking to the nearby break room. This place, as usual, was emptier than most, and they sit at a table by the vending machines. The perfect location to speak when the only other person is snoring under the television, which is blaring the news.
John leans back in his seat, looking right at the Slayer. "Do not say a word. I can tell you want to try something and I won't play along. This is just me doing a good thing to help a friend. Unless you are going to receive more than the afternoon off, treat this as a freebie. But if you could get us a nice break, I would kiss you on the lips in front of the entire base.”
“No… But promise?”
“Hyperbole is not a strong suit, huh?”
“Most I deal with are serious. Not that I hate sarcasm.”
“We’ll work on this problem later.”
“True. I have a better idea. Remember what I offered the first official day?”
“Drop it, Slayer. Do I need to remind you of my conditions? We were just having lunch, for fuck’s sake. When they say buy dinner first, most still delay until after the drive home to be so open.”
“But I am asking now,” wrapping an arm around the smaller man’s shoulders, pulling closer so they pressed together in a tight embrace. “And I don’t need to wait.”
“Slayer, that is not what I meant. I do not think this is right! I want someone who also wants it.”
“But I do.”
“How am I not taking advantage of this situation if I agree?”
“I’m asking for right now. That’s what you said.”
“Yes, that is true… However—” cut off as he flinches, then stiffens. With a shaky exhale, he grows lax, pressing his head against the Slayer’s shoulder. In a much quieter voice, he proves a change in attitude when his entire body bends to conform to the other marine’s torso. “What were you saying? I think you had an excellent point? What was that offer again?”
The Slayer smiles at the shift in personality, the hold loosening as he looks into starry green eyes, watching with interest. A chuckle shows approval as he leans in, the lust creeping in from the corners of his mind. The sharp tingle that follows having his cock twitch and blood abandon his brain. A hand cupping his crotch to make John glance at the growing bulge with a grin.
John’s perfect reaction is to trace the shaft with slow fingers, caressing the girth as he bites his lip. His voice husky when he whispers, “Slayer, if you release me, I know a great place to let you prove me wrong. Have you show what you had in mind,” finding the zipper to play with, tugging on it without opening.
“Yeah?” his brain seeming slower, foggier than before. A feeling that seems so natural as he enjoys the fingers teasing him with a good time. The want that had brought him here now becomes a need. A growing hunger to see John taking care of the problem seeping into every cell as said man palms his cock.
The glans swell with blood as he shifts, his arm letting go to play with his toy. A purr heard when his fingertips slip behind to grab the belt, pulling him up just a little. John gasping when the hand goes lower. Muffling a moan when a digit plays with the hole the Slayer might destroy. A few pushes send the quivering plaything into a full body lock, his entire being quivering. His eyelids lowered when he sinks into his chair.
A look at the dazed man makes the Slayer thank whoever designed this uniform as he finds it offers more access than ever imagined. The tight fabric around the hips let him touch whatever he wanted to make John shudder and spread his thighs farther. The corporal’s mouth opens to breathe as his taint gets played with, his cock throbbing harder as he moans into a hand. Both glancing at the stranger. Who continues to snore, unaware of these plans.
“No, not yet. Hold on,” the smaller marine whines when he seems to calm down. “Please… I have an idea. Away from anyone who might interrupt.”
“What?” the Slayer refusing to remove his hand. “Tell me.”
“Follow, I’ll show you. It’s close.” There is a desperate edge to his tone. His eyes pleading for the warrior to listen when he places a hand on the one calling blood to his dick.
“Go first. I will be right behind,” at last pulling his hand away to watch his toy stand.
John’s face a blank mask, he exits with steady steps, not at all looking aroused when he takes a final glance at the Slayer. The door open after he leaves just long enough for the other to follow.
The warrior's gait lacks the grace of the smaller man. His footsteps a little more feral when he ignores the twitching tip pushing on his zipper. Now pretending the friction does not make him far more hungry to devour the other marine until he cannot move. The cries of their previous time together replaying in his head while stalking this fresh meal.
Not too close to ruin his hunt, each maintains a safe distance. Only to stop by a large supply closet where they both check for nosey strangers while each slinks inside. Light from the hallway shows the slightly cramped space. Several rows of shelves uneven and messy, casting almost disorienting shadows under dim lightbulbs. The door closed for John to point at the panel and smile, asking for the Slayer to give them privacy.
The warrior has already started when the other offers him motivation. A soft sigh in his ear when hands find his body and lips brush over his neck. His arms blurring in the effort to lock them in, away from prying eyes. And superiors that might be selfish. A slow grind of something long and hard on his back sending a chill down his spine as he wants to stop and fuck John right there. Teach him a lesson in patience until he is screaming so loud the demons in Hell can hear. A kiss on the shoulder only makes the desire grow. Any rational thoughts gone when he can only think of what he would do to make that happen.
But then the lock turns red, and they will not be interrupted. John laughing when he licks an ear and gets yanked off. Almost howling when he’s slammed into the wall and pinned with a firm hand. Neither in the realm of sanity when their lips collide and hands grab whatever they can find. The world outside this room fading into the background as they explore each other with a wild energy.
The taste of sweet fruit and the odor of sweat were enough to have the men cling to each other. Their sounds feral like a starving beast as nothing could ruin this. Little of more importance. Water in the desert feels second to finding every part of the other’s body and hearing the noises they can elicit from their partner. The moans and grunts muffled by the hungry lips they savor. Such a need is more important than breathing as their cocks throb so hard it almost hurts. Friction not adequate when John pulls away and groans, his face flush and jaws slack, eyes crossed and decorated with universes. The Slayer chuckling as he licks the other’s chin.
It was time to begin… This toy needed to be used right now, or he would go insane.
And who is he to deny such a beautiful thing its desires? The image before him is art when John catches his breath. The panting mouth going great with his face decorated in a red blush. The color creeping toward his neck when the Slayer grabs the pale throat to hear a whine. The sound dripping with lust as he pulls the smaller marine closer to plant several kisses on a shoulder, smelling the softer musk smell. He goes deeper to inhale the scent when he bites down, hearing a louder groan. Then he kisses the entire area, traveling up to the square jaw. John rolling his head to the side as he combs fingers through the Slayer’s brown locks.
“Yes…” John hums when the lips find the other side and create a trail up to his mouth. Then turning away before they can meet again. “No… not yet. Show you meant it. Tell me how bad you need this taken care of,” cupping the massive bulge threatening to break free.
The Slayer purrs as the fingertips stroke his cock, pressing closer to have the touches move faster. “This isn’t for me…”
“What do you mean?” genuine curiosity flickering across his face.
“Wanted to… to… to make it up— To you,” struggling to speak as the hand below shifts positions. Now only getting the top, the fingers push the girth against John’s thigh, having the Slayer buck his hips.
“Oh, really?” chuckling as he forces the cock between his legs while unwinding from the Slayer’s embrace. Next, sliding down and out, he kisses the bulge before standing to ask, “What did you want to give me?”
“Fuck me. Fuck me for everything. As thanks.”
“Well then, prove it. Show me all your gratitude,” watching as the other steps away and folds both arms behind his back.
The Slayer's posture is one of waiting as his eyelids lower, a kind smile showing as he parts his legs a little. A fine position for John to walk over with the order to lift his hands, pulling off the two tops to see pert nipples before both get tossed aside. Not saying a word, the Slayer groans as a hand finds a hard bud and slowly pulls on it, seeing how the far more pleasurable speed affects him when he does it again. The sensations have his chest leaking as his cock throbs. Each tug on the flesh teasing his willpower when the breeder is told to not move. Unsure what to think as a sharp twist has him bend forward, touching the corporal’s face when another spills milk on the floor.
“Oh…” whispers John, leaning in to give a small lick over the breast, tasting what squirts into his mouth. The next few are far more energetic as he moans and smiles, saying after he gets a real taste, “Fuck, so good.”
The Slayer cannot reply as his mind swirls from this praise. These words are just as sensual as the tongue playing with his chest, and he grows way too hard for this little stimulation. It’s enough to have him sink into the smaller arms, feeling the other enjoy his offering. Soft moans encourage more as he lifts John, bringing them to the same level to get friction. Panting as he can’t think of anything but coming and making the other do the same. A hot lick between his tits getting him to twitch, telling the other how badly he wanted this attention. John smiling as he circles his arms around the Slayer’s neck, forcing him to appreciate the sweet milk the corporal had feasted on as neither wants to take control. No battle for dominance. They switch as they focus more on frottage; the breeder takes care of this as he cups his toy’s ass, holding him in place. Their mouths muffling quiet sighs and whimpers in the tight space.
A slight turn to have his back against the shelves, the Slayer pulls away to listen to them pant. Not that he stops grinding, shuddering as they move together now. Green mesmerizes blue, the man staring into John’s eyes as he wants more. Needs more of this.
“Like that?” the Slayer asks, bucking his hips to earn a yelp.
John bites his lip and nods, letting one hand slide down to examine their cocks. Playing with both as he smiles and says, “Oh fuck yes. Now, let me go, and you can relax. I’ll get you ready.”
The ordered man obliges, but not before giving the plump ass a quick squeeze. Laughing as he sees John frown and walk behind, a loud slap on the cheek changes this attitude. Another on the other side as the smaller marine grabs his belt and drags him backward. Not a word said as the Slayer obeys the silent command. Biting the inside of a cheek as he lets the hand move to the front, the click of the buckle filling the room when he hears a few harsh words. Then a mumbled sentence as his pants pool around his ankles.
Walking over to be face-to-face again, John states, “I prefer this look a lot more. Should do this more often.”
“Yeah, anything.”
“Promise?” fisting the Slayer’s cock to stare at the massive erection. “You like when I am inside you?”
“Always…” he answers with a sharp exhale. There was never a question. Why would that need to be asked?
“Okay,” playing with the head for a moment. Then having it bounce when he releases the hold. “Show me how you want this,” an odd look of confusion passing over his face.
“Don’t be so… hesitant. I like cock. Need that. All I can do. A good breeder.”
“No question there,” a small smile showing as he returns to stand behind the Slayer, a hand slipping between the thick thighs. Fingers running over the soft flesh deeper inside as John’s hot breath warms his back. “Show me what you need. I'll do anything you want.”
The Slayer nods, bending forward just enough to present his ass, spreading both legs while grabbing his cheeks. A quick reveal of the waiting hole as he says, “Want this. Need this so bad. Davoth never left me untouched. Not so long. Been forever without… him doing this.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll fix that. Now…” pushing on the bigger man’s back to have him bend over and grab an empty shelf.
“Ok—” cut off when a palm rests on his spine, the fingers tracing down to a hip as he shudders at this touch. Almost whining when they hold on, squeezing the thin skin. The other hand parts his ass, a few pressing on the hole. “Please…”
“Fuck yes,” pushing against the rim as it opens a little. The man seems to notice as he circles the muscle, encouraging it to accept a couple of digits.
A few light thrusts are all he needs to make the breeder groan from something, after so long, filling him. The entrance opening for several fingers to edge him, teasing at what should be there instead. What he deserves when in such a state. His mind going blank after he wonders why they had ever waited.
“John…” he groans, pushing back until the hand is knuckle deep. “No more waiting. Just fuck me, now. I need it.”
“Damn, you are something else, huh?”
“Yes!”
This doesn’t get a reply from John. Instead he gets a chuckle, the hand playing with his hole going faster to have the answer repeated over and over again. A low sound from deep in the Slayer's throat rewarding him with a fist around his shaft, urging it to swell in the grip. Now growing louder when both arms match in speed, his back bending to seem pathetic and needy. Only to look over his shoulder when the fingers leave his ass gaping and knees quivering. A whine at the loss cut short when the other unzips his pants and has them sit at his thighs, his hard cock twitching now it’s free. The head brushing over a cheek as the Slayer stares, he reaches behind to guide it to his entrance. A slight pull brings the John forward as he spreads his legs to have the tip slip inside with a soft moan, the other groaning from the enveloping warmth.
A sharp thrust and John is hilt deep, filling the breeder with what he had been craving after so long. This was just what he needed to almost sob as the hand on his cock moves to spoil him, having the slit drip onto the floor as he whines. Then cry as the dick retreats to slam back in. Bending his knees when his user leans forward, making sure he can be the best fuck for the other. Soon rewarded with words of praise when a few quick thrusts prove this is a much better angle. A soft chuckle comes from behind as fingers play with his glans, still inside when slow motions draw out a heavy exhale.
“Fuck,” purrs John, returning to jerk off the brood-boar. “Keep going. I like those sounds.”
The Slayer moans and pushes backward, making sure not an inch of the shaft can escape. A few quick breaths shake his sides as John laughs, moving his hips as he speaks.
“So, you take a dick in the ass and act feral?” the corporal asks. “Is that all you need to whimper like it’s mating season? I almost want to ask if you wanted a second baby dumped in there. You’d love that, right?”
“Yeah! Fuck me...” shuddering as his chin rests on the shelf, feeling like he should be in a rack. Now considering how hot such a device would make him. His skin flushes as he thinks about getting railed by a line of men and demons while trapped. Helpless to escape when his body shakes, as it does this time.
A gasp of surprise bursts from his lips when a sharp thrust and grunt causes him to clench. More weight now presses on his spine, and he looks over a shoulder to see the smaller marine release his cock and hug his waist. Right before John fucks like he could fill another womb with an ordinary heir. Biting his lip at the notion of such a thing.
To have such an honor. A swollen belly growing bigger and bulging from two babies. The fat pregnant body he gained somehow more massive. His purpose fulfilled for both. To have both sire a child would be a dream come true. Would the Earth one be just as lovely?
Would the fucking when so large be as good? Or better?
The Slayer’s train of thought gets cut off when John grunts and whispers, “You like that? I can tell by how hard you clenched. Loved something we did.”
“I am a good breeder,” shivering when the head punches his guts and explodes with sparks that have him leaking harder. His fist now grabbing his dick to give some attention again.
A low guttural sound is heard as John pulls out, giving his shaft a quick stroke. “There we go... Show how much you want to come. I better see a nice load when finished. Got that?”
The Slayer laughs, pumping his arm faster. “Yeah, don’t stop.”
“Like I ever would,” a lick across the breeder’s back sending a spark up the man's spine. Then John slams his girth back inside, making the breeder groan.
“Fuck...kkkkk...” his mind shorting out as he cannot find any other word to use. His head is so dumb that he can think of nothing else. Not a single thought left but what dwells in the fog of lust that saturates each cell. The fingers that hold his cock going so fast they blur.
Any and every bit of his brain shooting signals that go to the same place: the swirling center of arousal that puppets his movements. What control he had focused on hearing John pound his ass while he begs to come. The sound of grunts and panting fills his ears as he shakes and heaves, asking the man to mark him with seed. Making sure the other has no chance of leaving unfinished when he reaches behind and grabs a hip to ride the man’s cock like someone might interrupt any second.
The thought seems foolish after all the measures he put in place, but he can still imagine what would happen. And oh, how much he would love to be impaled on a pair of dicks when the stranger got over seeing the wondrous surprise. What would they order him to do first?
“Ah shit,” groans John as he speeds up, panting. “You... fuck. Yeah, keep going! I want to see a mess on your boots.”
“Yes...” doing his best to obey as his hands remain busy on both sides, a knee bending as he puts more weight on his chest.
Sharp breaths and silent cries make him quiver when he jolts, and the first thick rope blasts onto the floor, hitting the concrete and metal with an echo. Heavy drops of seed gushing out as he cannot move beyond forcing his balls to empty all over himself. A low groan tells the other of this while his body jumps from stimulation. All his hard work shooting in a shameless display to please. Not a drop is allowed to remain inside when John laughs and praises him for listening. This all the reward the breeder needs to rest both hands on the shelf, not moving as he waits for his toy to finish like he deserved. A gentle finger pulling on John’s belt, dragging the corporal back.
And just like that, he hears John make all kinds of lustful noises. The kind hands on his hips holding tight, the slap of their thighs lulls him into a trance of pure breeding. Eyes closed and body still, he accepts his role and doesn’t move, not daring to let the second marine leave him empty. The man may not get a new baby, but he can pretend. A low growl to say the other was close is enough for him to behave. The pace losing any consistency soon after as he grins.
The Slayer receives no warning before John stops to spill a load deep in his hole. One moment listening to excited groans, the next feeling the cock shoot him full of come, bracing for more. Quiet and patient for the warm ropes to mark him as bred. Both sigh when the shaft pulls out and leaves him empty. All the hot seed inside a small reminder of what they trained him to do. The fantasy sated for a bit when John steps away for him to straighten, a tiny trickle oozing down the back of his thighs as a thanks.
He is about to turn around when a hand pushes on his spine, keeping him in place. John caressing the man as he asks, “Was that enough?”
“Fuck no...” smiling as he turns to see the other man breathing faster. Allowed to face the smaller marine when noticing how the green eyes stare at his dirty chest.
“Good, because you got your turn. Now it’s mine,” already chucking his pants and t-shirt into a corner. Next, going for the Slayer to grab his pants, ripping them off to join the growing pile.
Not that the breeder cares when he is distracted by much better things. Impatient hands touching everything they can find while he doesn’t move, chuckling when fingers trace up his hips and stomach, stopping under the chest to have him frown. The Slayer’s expression morphs into one of pure shock, then bliss as a couple of digits get replaced with a hot tongue. His own flopping out to pant when the wonderful warmth of an eager mouth latches on and rolls a nipple, intense eyes watching as he smiles and his knees buckle. On the floor and powerless to John’s hunger when their gazes meet. His cock harder than a diamond as a hand grabs his other breast, squeezing the soft flesh as both moan and the Slayer throws his head back. His grip on a shelf crushing the metal when the man makes him throb like he had not just orgasmed.
And it seems John notices this, popping off to replace the lips with his other hand, groping the soft mounds for a minute. The Slayer watches the show until they let go, and he sees the toy is just as hard. Both twitching at the sight of the other’s erection.
“We should take care of that,” John purrs, fisting their cocks to have the shaft grind together. His fist finds it impossible to close around the pair, so he instead gets closer, using the tight space to make up for it. “Need this... so fucking bad.”
“Yeah...?” biting his lip as the hand speeds up, adding his own to help jerk them off. “Thought I was doing this. For you.”
“Then fuck me. I enjoy losing the ability... to walk after a good fuck,” huffing as the breeder takes over, stroking both dicks. “Fuckkkkkkk... You need to... Oh, shit. Don’t... stop. Da—” bucking his hips as he seems to short-circuit and grabs the breeder’s shoulder.
The two marines’ actions are automatic as John drags them together and kisses with a desire only matched by the Slayer when he gets impaled on the royal cock. Sounding just the same when he feels the tongue ram its way inside and explore everything it can find. Hot and heavy, they become impossibly closer once the corporal finds wrapping both arms around the Slayer’s neck earns far more effective results. At a better angle to heat the space as they gasp and moan into their mouths, muffled by the closeness. Sweat and musk mix with come so it saturates the room. And the man wants more. Needed more. Not wanting this to end.
Until it does, and he sees John slide back on the floor and onto his knees, grabbing a shelf while spreading his legs, dribbling excitement down a thigh. With a growl at the sight, the target of this provocation pins him to the metal and pushes a leaking head against the lax rim.
“Was before not good enough? Or something else?” The breeder shows how little he cares about the answer by grinding the shaft against the waiting hole. A harsh reminder of what he was capable of.
“Don’t fuck with me when I am doing a job. Now, actually fuck me, or I'll ask a random guy to do it instead. And it won’t suffice the first time,” a look over his shoulder to show the breeder a smug grin.
“I can’t do that. Need to come, make you come.”
“That’s a good Slayer...” tittering as an arm wraps around his waist. “Do this right. It’s been too long since you got to. Must be so pent up. No way one round is enough.”
“Yep,” his mind snapping to attention as he gets ready to do his job.
But first...
A sharp pull brings the corporal closer, his back pressed against the wider chest. A gasp at the sudden change. John opens his mouth when a hard cock slides between his thighs and grinds on his shaft. Any protest cut off with this unsaid promise to leave him a mess. The chuckle he gives instead enough to keep the friction going a little longer.
Then the bigger girth slips away for him to whine, peering over a shoulder when he asks why.
The Slayer smirks and says, “On your hands and knees. Wanna see that.”
The other obeys before the arms can let him go, falling to the ground with his ass in the air. The awkward submission is delicious when a hand runs over his spine, having it arch so his legs part and rim comes into view.
“There we are...” whispers the breeder, kneeling behind to gaze at the waiting hole. A finger slips between the globes, seeing how the man shivers with every touch. A slow push on the muscle gets it to twitch, adding more pressure to slip inside and hear a groan.
“Don’t wait. I am ready, fuck me. Can handle it.”
“I know,” taking his time to make the entrance open while listening to the moans and whines of the toy. All these sounds make both throb when the fingers find the prostate, and he swears the man wants to scream as he pushes down repeatedly. Then a few more times after he stops quaking, just to be sure.
“Fuck!” hisses John, reaching for his dick when he recovers. “Do it. Come on, I need this.”
“So desperate...”
“A hand is not the same,” he snaps. “Hard to go back after that cock.” A look behind to stare at the massive girth so close, but not doing its job. “Got to... Hurry up, Slayer.”
“Shhh,” pulling out the fingers to receive a groan. “Is that all you want?”
“Better give me a reason to be silent, or I might yell for someone to take over,” a mischievous grin challenging the breeder.
The Slayer chuckles and places a hand on John’s back. Pinning the corporal’s chest to the floor as he grabs his underwear.
“What—” shut up as the other marine stuffs the entire thing in his mouth.
“Will that do?”
He watches the man take a deep breath and nod, his eyelids lowering as he smiles. A light red colors John’s cheeks as he shakes his hips. The hand on his back grabs the nape of his neck, making it hard to move. The blush becoming a deeper shade when forced to become immobile. Now unable to fight when the head breaches his ass and forces out a heavy groan that rumbles his chest. A shudder as the entire length fills him, the tight tunnel squeezing the enormous shaft.
“Oh, fuck...” growls the Slayer, leaning in to make sure the gag stayed where it belongs. With a few light thrusts, he sees John bite down. The flush skin a rich crimson as the head pulls out, and the toy remains still. This sight is art when the cock hurries back inside to be enveloped in heat, sucking the breeder in. “So good...” giving a few small bucks to receive soft sounds from the one underneath.
And this has the Slayer get all the way on top and mount John like a feral beast at the height of mating season. Hilt deep and his toy presenting a nice hole, he finds no reason to hold back. The other man leaks onto the floor, begging him to do it again when the shaft retreats.
Which he does, slamming inside to hear the screams of a partner who is receiving everything he begged for and more. He would not be gentle because John was under his care. No, he wanted to be used, and this was what would happen. The muffled cries into the thick gag are a great reason to pull out to the tip and stab his insides with enough force to shake his entire frame. The supple cheeks are perfect to cushion the blows as smacking skin echoes in the room. Over and over, listening to the moans that show there is nothing this man can do but take it.
Doing all he can to show the man this is all he needs. A good fuck shutting him up as the hand on his nape tightens, digging in blunt nails to earn a yelp and groan. The hole clenching to spur the breeder more. Such noises begging for him to grab a hip, make it hurt, and have him riding dick like they made him for this.
He wanted to be fucked... Such a gift as the circle shows John what he’s perfect for. That was all he should desire. All he should ever crave.
Such thoughts flip a switch in the Slayer. The reality of their fate sends him into a frenzy as he puts his full weight on top for a taste of his toy. The shared heat only makes the marine underneath sweat and shiver, the impossible-to-understand pleas ignored as his ass gets impaled and clings to the girth like a fist. Getting the thrusts to speed up as the breeder finds the sensations pure bliss. Lust controls their minds, and the Slayer pounds the hole as if there would be triplets in there by the end of the day. The idea of seeing them both in this position... Just going faster now, as he can tell John wants to scream.
And he could try as hard as he likes when the fat head hits a sweet spot again. What seems to be a howl shakes John's frame as he jolts, feet kicking in vain to an escape. A slight shift for the Slayer to get a look at John’s face, he sees the underwear soaked in drool, crimson cheeks advertising how this kind of fuck affects him. Harsh breathing and crossed eyes are mere bonuses in this when he claws at the floor and arches his spine to be railed deeper. Pathetic bucks doing nothing to earn him mercy.
Except get a hard thrust to have him stop with a whine. Panting as he gets rewarded for behaving, a hand on his cock sends John to a different realm of pleasure. The arm blurs to make thick drops ooze onto the breeder’s palm. Almost certain there is a puddle of crystal liquid as John goes silent, the Slayer seeing how his eyes roll so far back the pupils are hidden. This sight one the breeder would savor when they finished.
Then again, he says the same when the shaft pulses in his fist while a faint groan escapes through the gag. Not stopping as the hand works faster, the thick ropes of come shooting onto the floor and John’s thighs, painting the entire area white.
The man orgasms hard. Harder than the last time the Slayer could care for the toy, the motions continue until the sac is empty, whines of discomfort proving this was over. The corporal spent from this treatment. Just how the breeder likes to end things when fucking someone. A big load is the reward to have the Slayer pull out, watching John flop onto the ground to lie there, unmoving.
“Are you okay?” he asks, hovering over John. “Was that too much?”
With a slow shake of the head, John rolls onto his back. Legs spread far apart, he keeps the underwear gag as he motions for his user to return.
“Is that a good... idea?”
With a shrug, John grabs a globe in each hand to show the hole again, a finger pointing to the entrance. The order is simple: come here and finish the job.
The Slayer pauses, staring at the sight. In a trance at the gaping rim, calling him back. The movements are automatic when he listens to the sexual siren. Nodding his head, the breeder is on top before either can make a sound. A hand resting on each side of the pale neck, the pair reunite in the blink of an eye; the hole stretched with the large cock as both groan, and the Slayer is once more bucking his hips in time with the quick breaths of his fucked partner. Or at least for a little while, until he knows he’s close and says it out loud.
John lowers his eyelids and reaches for a breast, giving the soft flesh a sharp pinch. The Slayer hisses as the fingers find the nipple and pull on the hard bud, sending a jolt of pain through him. And he just about explodes as he comes.
What he shoots is enough to have the man howl as he gets filled. The power of the orgasm is like any demon, his mind blanking when the lust becomes too much, and he struggles to not fall on the source of this pleasure. In his own realm of pure bliss, he sees a bulge in John’s belly and his shoulders quake. Then his head spins and he is almost on top, bracing his arms to not crush the smaller marine’s body. Both breathe hard as he stares at the wide eyes watching him, the underwear gone for his name to be repeated until he blinks and rises again. Sat on his user’s thighs to give a sheepish grin. John smiles and sits up, crawling into the other man’s lap.
“Sorry,” the Slayer mumbles, helping John keep the mess in his hole with a finger.
“Damn... told you a second round was required.”
“I would never argue that. Not stupid.”
“That is not a word that anyone could use for you. Not if they’re honest,” caressing the man he praises. A soft sigh heard when he grabs the Slayer’s face to devour in a rough kiss.
The breeder does not fight when a tongue plunges deep inside. Nor does he mind when their bodies press together, and he can hold John tight. The fact he tastes himself and the toy not a reason to complain. Not when it earns him all kinds of needy sounds as his palms slide down, kneading the globes below until the pair separate. A line of spit breaking as they stare for who knows how long and catch their breath.
Though John soon distracts him with soft touches and kisses everywhere. Laying both on the ground, he climbs on top to play with the breeder. A promise to be ready in no time, already palming both their cocks as he speaks. The last round was a lot after escaping that sexual desert.
That is enough of a guarantee for the Slayer to smile and hold his hips, giving small bounces to create sounds above. Making more when he brings them back for another, harder kiss.
This one ends with far less grace as the annoying beep of a message slaps their eardrums. Both check for someone else nearby, scanning the space. John shakes his head and seems to clear his mind just a little to obey the call, standing to grab his PDA. Neither seeming too sure about this choice, he still turns on the device to scan the screen and frown.
The Slayer straightens at this, feeling his thoughts calm down. The room far colder now when looking for any danger. Bracing for the second he needs to escape a new face viewing them from a dark corner.
Oh fuck... What the shit did he do? What happened? Why did they do that? No one touched the stone or circle...
“Read this,” says John, his voice a normal tone as he passes the PDA to the Slayer. “You will want to see what that bastard did.”
The warrior accepts the device, seeing the Sergeant sent a message. The man furrows his brows as he sees who gets mentioned indirectly, learning just how low Davoth would go to fuck with their heads. Like how the lord apologizes for withholding information about the new alteration he mentioned before, but says he preferred an honest reaction. If he gave the Slayer what he wanted, the desire must be genuine. Then he adds his followers promised it worked from their observation and would leave fresh clothes by the door. Kelly adding at the end where to find the showers from the closet.
The PDA falls from his grip as not to destroy it in a burst of rage. But as cautious as he was, it didn’t hurt that his hands are shaking. A slow turn to look at John, he notices that the man covers his head, hiding his face in his lap, breathing quick.
“Hey,” the Slayer says. “Are you okay?”
The other marine doesn’t reply, standing up to grab his clothes and stuff them in a garbage bag. His back turned away from watching eyes when chucking the entire thing into a corner.
“John…” still not getting an answer as he collects his things. The man shaking harder when he tries to return, the Slayer instead walks over to the lock. “I’ll get the clothes.” A glance over his shoulder lets him see the man is not doing well, kneeling as he leans against a shelf.
Once the door can open again, there is a knock and his name gets called. However, no one enters, letting the Slayer grab the delivered bag with no witnesses. The contents on the floor, he digs through to sort the items. His clothes pulled out, he organizes the rest for John and taps the man on the shoulder. Who jumps back and whips around, only pausing when he sees who is there. His posture softening, but only a little.
“Come on, need to wash,” the Slayer says.
John nods, blinking a few times. “Yeah…” reaching out for the bag.
The Slayer frowns and scans the corporal’s body. Seeing nothing wrong, he asks, “John, are you hurt?”
“No, you didn’t injure me this time.”
“Mental?”
“As fine as I can be.”
“That could mean anything.”
“Use your brain.”
“Do not let the message… affect you. Davoth likes to twist things. The followers won’t touch—”
“You think I give a single fuck about the little minions? Does it look like any of them would be the real threat in this situation? That fucker did something to me for your benefit. Yeah, I realize the walking aneurism manipulates the facts, and that message is not helping!”
“I didn’t ask for this. Two weeks… was glad for every day… not using the collar. With you.”
“Then what did you say? What the hell did you tell Davoth?” his tone was cold, harsh like a snowstorm.
“Don’t know… We talked about that the night it happened, remember?”
“Well, it had to be something,” almost yelling as his voice sounds close to breaking. “Why does this keep happening? Why is he fucking with us? How does this help him?”
“The alteration was added without me. This was not part of the, the, the plan. This was an incentive. Davoth never explained anything to me.”
“Yeah, I bet it was a great treat… for that bastard. He gets off on this.” His hands clench, curling into fists. A resounding clang having the Slayer jump when one strikes the wall.
“John, no, you promised.”
“Shut— I am this close!” jumping to his feet to put on the fresh clothes at record speed.
“Good. Better idea.”
The other man grunts but keeps calm. “When is the next job? And what am I doing this time?”
The warrior sighs, buckling his belt before pulling up the schedule. “Need Cody to start… sending you copies… About an hour, doing basics.”
“Like that would ever happen. Too convenient,” walking toward the door as the Slayer hurries to turn off everything he did.
Out of the room and back in the hall, John grows quiet, walking in front without a word. The walk to the showers silent, the lack of talking just as disconcerting once they wash off under the hot water. This becoming the default for the rest of the day. The Slayer wants to worry but is unsure why when the other resets after a night’s sleep. The silence would have to remain for now. As much as he wants to end it.
Though he cannot help but ask after dinner as they walk out of the cafeteria, “John, are you okay? Tired?”
The man frowns and shrugs. A couple of blinks make it seem like the words break through. At last saying, “Yeah, just thinking about today’s jobs.”
“Alright. If that’s all…”
“That is all you need to worry about,” showing a sleepy smile. “It was a long day.”
“Why do you say that?” a strange pang of fear at the remarks has him stop and look for a private space. A sign offering an option, pulling John into a maintenance closet. “What are you saying?”
“Slayer, what are you doing? You better not be trying anything! Get back, I am not threatening Davoth.”
“I know that. What am I not supposed to, to, to, to worry about?” his heart racing faster. “Is there something else?”
“It is nothing important, so do not ride my ass!”
“That is not what… don’t want that again.”
“Not what I meant at all. Just stop asking questions. I wasn’t implying anything for you.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” another pang having him grab John’s shoulders. “Why shouldn’t I worry?”
“What does personal bus—” jumping when the hold on his shoulder turns into a crushing grip.
The Slayer groans as pain explodes from his guts. His hand letting go, he drops to the floor, holding his belly. A second eruption making him fold over, his throat clenched so tight he can't breathe. Flat on the ground as his body grows cold and stiffens.
Oh no… How is he feeling this so soon? There has to be something wrong!
“Slayer?” asks John while he falls to his knees. “What is going on? Are you hurt?”
“The baby,” he gasps, holding his stomach tighter. “This feeds it.”
“What? What are you saying? How?”
Instead of answering, the warrior rolls onto his side to breathe. Taking a glance at the other marine before his eyes close, and a new pain comes from his intestines. Groaning as he shakes.
Why? How was this occurring so soon? How did this differ from both pregnancies in Hell?
“Slayer, what do I do?” John reaching out when the brood-stallion grits his teeth.
“Hold on…” rubbing his belly as he breathes. Quickly stopping as he gets a hit to the bladder to wait it out. A hand out to push John away until he can sit up with some effort. A shaky breath helping calm his racing heart.
“What the actual fuck was that?” asks John, still staying at arm's length.
“The fetus. It gets hungry and feeds on pain… anger, fear, stress… Had its first big meal.”
“Shit, no wonder you didn’t want to talk about your symptoms… Is that going to happen a lot?”
“Depends on Davoth. Wants them to grow fast. The sooner the better. For everyone.”
“Like sire, like heir. That’s all you have to worry about, right? Nothing like my friend’s spouse who developed diabetes during the pregnancy?”
“No, just that, fatigue, and nausea. Bad enough,” rubbing his belly to be sure the thing in there was quiet. “And the extra body fat.”
“Well, guess we’ll see what we can do when you’re further along.”
“Made it both times fine.”
“And now you are stuck with me,” smiling as he glances at the Slayer’s stomach. “No need to tell people, okay?”
“I suppose,” raising a brow at the suggestion.
“Do not give that kind of information to anyone else but the doctors. Humans are just as ruthless as demons if they have ill intentions. This kind of ammo will lead to serious shit if someone believes a nasty rumor.”
“Yeah, makes sense…” sighing as he stands up.
“Great, then let’s go. There is one place I want to be, and that is knocked out in my bed.”
“Sure,” strolling out as he stays behind John.
Well, seems he recovered from his silent mood fast… That’s wonderful, right?
It feels wrong. Should he have tried asking more questions? Probably too late now...
All he can do is mentally shrug and continue walking, assuring himself this was good enough. Davoth was correct about letting the corporal have his heroic ambitions. Suppose if it helped him remain sane, there was no point in stopping this. The man knew to keep in line, he would not become blood on anyone’s hands.
Maybe he should get another reward…
The Slayer slaps and shakes his head, ignoring odd looks from strangers. What the hell was wrong with him? If he kept thinking about that, he would end up pregnant with another. Like the promise John made in the closet before. He knows Davoth would never let the man have an heir, but he might use it as an excuse to do something… This was not a situation he needed anytime in the next millennia.
And with that, he does his best to focus on better things. Like watching John sleep.
Curled up in bed, he stares while speculating about the fetus’ development. With this horrible first sign, he wonders what the other marine would do as it became worse. Not even Orcus did much before birth—except take his reward for not leaving the warrior alone for more than five minutes. He was surprised by the man before. Another would be nice…
With a sigh, he rolls onto his side for a better view, examining the slumbering human. Quiet while the occasional footstep ensures he doesn’t move, not ready to leave bed tonight.
Notes:
Just want to say, I am in no way endorsing soft serve, It's not even my favorite dessert. But I won't question why if you love it, the stuff is top tier.
This one took longer than I expected, but I would still be happy to hear what you think. Feedback is always welcome, and suggestions are appreciated!
Chapter 9: Love (And Lust) Makes A Man Do Crazy Things
Summary:
With Baal's new teeth growing in, the men are going to need to get creative if they want to end their pain-induced rage. And it just happens that a certain demon drops into their laps to help...
But this is only half of their problems, John soon learning how Kelly really thinks about him when the Master Sergeant is offered a prize.
Notes:
Yay, another nice long chapter with too much shameless smut! I don't know what to say about the combinations here, except that I just wanted to have more fun with a hesitant superior again.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
An ear-splitting squeal echoes in Sarge’s office. The very walls seeming to shake with the hellish sound. Another bellowing from a screaming Baal as both men standing over cover their ears, wincing as they almost go deaf. Well past the point of simple need, the infant lies on the ground as tears stream down their face and they kick the air. John can’t help but glare at the shrieking brat, wondering if this baby was as durable as their sibling in the womb.
The heir had been screaming for the last half hour. Ever since they had woken from their nap to feed, they were in a cranky mood, biting both nipples and more than one hand until they bleed. The Slayer does his best to make them eat, but the kid is having none of it as they grow more distressed and violent. Like grabbing John’s finger with their tusks and nearly degloving the digit. Followed by several minutes of tense negotiation with the hellspawn until their jaws get forced apart without snapping the fragile joints. The victim in this attack glaring as he staunches the bleeding.
This only makes Baal more angry, howling at the lost snack. In no time, on the floor as they nip at anything resembling flesh that comes into their sight. Bawling as both hooves slice the air, the Slayer grabs them from behind without a tusk piercing his forearm again.
With a long sigh, he holds the child at arm’s length, watching them thrash in his grip. Both marines staring at their face as it turns a dark green. They howl in frustration, mouths open wide to show their tusks. John stepping away when they kick at the offending pair who dares look in their direction. His lips twisting in disgust as they leak from every hole in their face. With little left to do, the corporal sends a call to the universe as he wishes someone had an answer.
“John!” the Slayer yells, sitting the child on the desk. “Help me here. Keep them happy or something.”
“Are you crazy? That thing almost ripped off my finger.” The digit had only stopped bleeding a minute ago. There was no way.
“I found… found the problem.”
“What?”
“Something in there.”
“What could they have eaten? Thought they didn’t have any normal teeth?”
“Don’t think that matters.”
“Hold on,” walking over as Baal lies on the desk. “Distract the heir.”
The Slayer sighs and moves to place a palm on the baby’s belly, pinning them down. With the free hand, he now grabs a tusk, scratching the tooth as they calm down a little, the screams turning into quiet sobs. This is the opening John needs to talk in a sweet voice, promising this would be quick as fingers force their mouth open and he pulls out his flashlight.
Then frowning as he squints, leaning in to get a better view. There was something in there…
No, a few. One, two… four bumps on their bottom gums that don’t appear infected despite the noise. A touch of the jaw on the outside does nothing to make it worse. Another look at the bumps having him tilt his head to the side and think for a moment.
“What is it?” the Slayer asks. “Is this bad?”
“I guess that’s the baby teeth. How did this play out with the oldest?”
“Much nicer. If that is true.”
“What should we do about this? Is it ice or heat for these kids?”
The warrior seems to think for a second and replies, “Definitely cold. But not toys. Would destroy everything we use.”
"That's what I feared. Shame the milk ain't cutting it. That was way better than I expected as food for feeding hellspawn."
"I'm sorry?" asks the source of this nectar.
"No point in lying. We both know what happened. Just being honest."
"Thanks, I guess... What do we do with Baal? Cares more about ripping fingers off, off, off than eating, remember?"
“Hmm, yeah, and we have a snowball’s chance in Hell of making anything cold without extra steps. Either have to find a freezer and bring the kid, or ask some followers to do it for us. I do not like those choices.”
“We could go from here. Davoth can open a portal. Should be left alone… if dealing with them. Heirs always come first.”
“Maybe, but what about after?”
“Right... Would use us after feeding,” picking up Baal when they whimper. A soft hush having them whine, he sits down to bounce them on a leg.
“Keep that in a boot for a truly desperate situation. There has to be a better—” cut off by a screaming Baal. The sound far different from the cries before as it seems far more... primal. And this one has them throw their head back to have a portal open overhead. A massive body falling from the ceiling.
Both men jump out of the way when a pair of heavy boots just miss the desk. The pale face of a familiar demon stares down as he growls, brandishing his axe handle as a glare burns the marines. Only to whip his head around when a gentler squeal grabs the marauder’s attention. On his knees to take the child and look at their tear-stained cheeks, he wipes the mess from their flushed face. A whisper in their ear having them bite down on a finger as it bleeds. No one caring about the crimson rivulet that stains the white flesh.
A purr for the heir, Orcus stands up and turns back to deal with their papa. “Slayer, why was I called to do your duty? I understand why they brought you to such a place. You do not deserve the foolish waste Davoth gave before. A stone slab is all you deserve for a bed to warm with demons.”
The Slayer grunts and sits down. “Shut up. Baal is cranky. We’re working on it.”
“Such an attitude is bold for one in your position.”
“Baal likes you. Enjoy the time together.”
“And I will destroy your toy if you are going to act like a child,” the glowing axe blades appearing by John’s face as he steps back with a glare.
“What the fuck!” the threatened man growls, wondering how many shots the demon could take to the head.
“Fight me, coward,” says the Slayer to the demon, leaning on the desk. “After we deal with, with, with, with Baal. Unless you want to... ignore an heir. What if Davoth—“
“Yes, you have a point,” replies Orcus, retracting the weapon as he glances at John. “How dare I serve my lord if I cannot care for a child? The heirs royal status places them high above us all.”
The men roll their eyes, sitting down as the three watch Baal. All leaning in to see them chew on a knuckle as the marauder chuckles and pats their head.
“Well, that answers some things,” says John.
The Slayer fixes his shirt and asks, “What?”
“I now know what you mean about the kid’s special gift. Also, that gives me an idea about dealing with their teething problem.”
“What?”
“Couldn’t we just leave them attached to the blood bag? The demon here should do the trick.”
“You have the gall—” snarls Orcus when John lifts a hand and cuts him off.
“Nope,” he says, “not telling anyone anything. It’s called brainstorming.”
“And your idea is foolish, no matter what it is called.”
“Like I give a fuck. Just feed the kid and help us figure out a better solution. What about an unwilling?”
The other two squint at him, the Slayer shaking his head.
John frowns and looks at his feet. “Jeez, didn’t realize that was taboo, of all things.”
“Not something you taste. And enjoy it,” the man replies.
“Any other’s off limit?”
“Zombies would be the worst.”
“Hmmm, oh well, that may not be an issue. However, I think we need to go home. Can you do a damn thing about that, Orcus?” turning to raise a brow at the guard as he does his best to keep a level tone.
“Of course, toy. But why should I care about this plan? It sounds like a waste of time.”
“Because, despite whatever you assume about humans, it will be way less work to bleed a demon today. One dead demon means nothing compared to a missing hand here. Plus, unless you want to talk to another human, we can come and go with no problems.”
“My, you do get some use from that brain. I should fuck that little quirk out of you next time. I think we can arrange something,” standing to walk over to the back wall as a portal appears closer to the floor. He lifts a hand to have the men follow, already stepping through without seeing who follows.
The marines on their feet, John is a step behind the Slayer as he braces for whatever is on the other side. His first visit had been strange, lacking the fun and horror of all the myths. But there had to be something for it to be worthy of such a name, right? The odd metal and lights had to house some cursed items.
But when they walk through, he instead gets hit with the type of cold that only comes when there is a total absence of heat. The kind of chill that sucks the warmth from your body and leaves you frozen, too weak to run. Now rubbing his biceps as he shivers and looks at the barren halls, seeing his breath as they stroll toward a door. The room inside not as frigid, he still can see every exhale in the dimmer lights. This space lacking any normal furniture, all there is to notice is a set of shackles on the wall. The fetters nowhere close to a comfortable height, they are about thigh-high on John. A look around shows Orcus looking at an uncomfortable Slayer. The man’s arms straight as the demon walks over and traces his neck with a claw.
In a low voice asking the warrior, “Remember this room?” the floor open to have a table lift from the hole. Ropes and shined metal drawing everyone’s attention as they stare at the furniture’s slow rise. “Should I recall your previous visit to the toy?”
“Orcus...” the Slayer hisses, glancing at the door.
“I said to your toy there would be a price. Now, do your job, and we can get to my favorite part,” lifting his hand to show the calmed child.
"Only after they are gone," glancing at the shackles as his glare burns into the marauder.
‘Who does this bastard think he is?' thinks John as his fingers hover close to his gun. ‘This was not the plan we agreed to. Fucking demon.’ Not yet grabbing it as he hovers over the weapon.
The anger in the Slayer’s face keeps John from acting as Orcus grabs the warrior and drags him forward. The two face-to-face as they do not see John clench his jaw and bristle. He would not sit back and watch. Which was the same thing he did during the previous visit to Hell. However, there was nothing to stop him today. Someone in the universe was giving him a chance to get revenge.
John smiles and walks over, feeling the same rush as the last time he faced this decision. His fingers tingling as he approaches the marauder and raises his hands. Eyes homing in on the bottomless voids in Baal's gaze. “Here, let me help,” he says. “You are busy with Slayer, so I can take the baby. Speeds up the whole thing.”
“You really are a whelp,” Orcus growls, lowering the child into John’s arms as they whine. A whisper to them in the other tongue, he adds, “Stay by my side and be ready to act. I will not deny them a second of comfort.”
“I just want this over with,” the baby purring when he scratches blood off a tusk.
“Whatever you say,” pushing the marine aside to fist the Slayer’s collar and bend him over the tabletop. Saying to the facedown warrior, “Do not move. I would hate to call Davoth to fix your mistake.”
The man grits his teeth but listens when a claw pushes against his throat. The marauder’s back turned when John smiles and sets Baal on the floor. A finger lifted to his lips, they let out a soft grunt and smile when he pulls out his gun. Both beaming as if the ignorant heir knew the plan when he mumbles a few comforting words and hears a hiss from the table.
On his toes, he stalks the demon with the same focus as an assignment. Hands steady and eyes on the true target when he is millimeters from the exposed back of the guard. Not a single thought of hesitation when he reaches out, fingers brushing over the hard bones coming from the pale skull. A sound like a grunt from the tabletop when a nail finds a groove, and Orcus turns his head.
But not far enough to see the man grab the horn when he lets out a shout, the other marine pushing both to have the guard stumble. This loss of control is the opening John needs to get the upper hand and throw the marauder to the ground, using the monster’s weight against him. John gets on top before there is a chance for retaliation, a fist raised to bring down on the bigger opponent. A punch right between the horns slam the pale skull against the floor. Eyes wide when he brings the handle down for one more strike to keep the demon stunned. Then emptying several shots into both shoulders, blood spraying everywhere as a final shot hits the neck. More pooling on the ground as he stands to look at what he did. Heavy exhales filling the room with fog as he puts his weapon away and grabs Baal.
“Stupid toy!” hisses the marauder as he tries to get up. “I will make sure you pay for that...” The threat failing to leave an impact when he falls face down.
“No, not this time. Do your duty and feed the kid,” kneeling to have them lay on the floor, already back to enjoying their treat as the cold makes the flow grow viscous. “Be glad I didn’t snap your neck.”
“You should have. That would lead to a far better ending for you.”
“Should’ve used the right head for your plan,” getting to his feet to press a boot on the marauder’s spine. Looking at the Slayer to ask, “What do you think?”
“Was that a good idea?” glancing at the table.
“That doesn’t matter now. Grab a container and get his blood. The hall should do the job. Can make some blood pops for the kid. The faster we get this started, the sooner we can get out of here.”
The warrior nods but remains cautious as he exits, seeming to know where to go when he rushes off.
Only to return less than a minute later, stumbling back in as he falls to the ground. The other marine spinning around to see that unwanted company has entered the room. A flash of red and the sound of heavy footsteps warning his plan might be derailed. The lord walks into the place, glaring at the man covered in blood and holding a dripping pistol.
“So, you are once more the reason I have a desire to kill someone,” Davoth snaps as he walks over, glancing at the fallen demon. “I wonder why I even bother some days. Putting you down would be so easy.”
John snarls and points his gun at the ruler’s chest, yelling in his face, “I will not get punished because your little gift wanted something for their growing teeth. Did you not know the child was screaming for half an hour? Do you not care about the kid?”
“They are teething?” he asks, kneeling to pick up Baal as they laugh. His expression showing pride as he holds them close and whispers, “Oh, you are! Yes, you shall feast soon.”
The bloody marine lets his jaw drop as he leans on the table, finding his energy drained at this reaction. The rush of his attack and following anger gone. “What the fuck am I doing?” he mumbles, letting the Slayer stand over with an exhausted expression.
“Being an excellent addition to the group,” says Davoth as he gives a soft smile. “I suppose you have earned praise, John. Continue to spoil my child like this, and I will offer you better rewards. My breeder’s guard made a mistake, and you fixed this error. As proof of my generosity, you will avoid participation in today’s ritual after the meeting. Enjoy a peaceful afternoon.”
“I’m sorry. What did you say?” squinting at the implication of this information.
“Yes, there was a reason Kelly was not in his office. Both of you will join me in the throne room while I speak with followers. Think of it as being useful in new ways.”
“What kind of meeting?”
Davoth rolls his eyes and hands Baal to the Slayer, grabbing Orcus’ head to lift it off the ground and examine. “You are to be a good marine and do what I say, understand?”
“So you will not explain this surprise meeting?”
“No need to. I promise you’re safe from getting your throat slit. Be grateful.”
“That is not something a person casually mentions—”
He blinks when a second Davoth appears in the corner of his eye, sending a chill through him. The eyes on this version a bright blue as he averts his gaze and snaps his mouth shut. The illusion teleports in front, laughing at John as it consumes his vision. A mouth full of sharp teeth and several wriggling tentacles appearing in wide jaws. The long appendages reaching for John's face as he steps backward.
Then the man blinks, and the spell is broken. The walls only containing one Davoth again...
John grabs the Slayer's hand, pulling on the warrior’s arm as he says it’s time to leave. A glance at the door has him step forward when the original ruler does the same. John finding it impossible to move when the hand he holds snares his wrist in an unyielding grip. In seconds blocked from both ends when Davoth cups his chin, long fangs showing as red irises freeze him to the spot. Every muscle refusing to obey as his mind screams to run.
A pull has the marine free of the Slayer and embraced by the lord. Once more smelling smoke as it mixes with a heavy musk. The hot body making his heart race when lips press on an ear, fiery breaths warming his face. A slow lick over the flushed flesh so close to sending him into another world. Whether one out of a horrible dream or a dark nightmare depends on where the hands end up. The man feeling the fingers slide toward his belt. His posture stiff and eyes wide when he hears the other's husky voice.
“Hmm, you were doing so well, John. It’s been a few weeks since I feared a dangerous outburst. Do not ruin this streak you worked hard to maintain. This attitude would be better used on important tasks instead of failed arguments and pointless fights.”
“This is not an argument. How am I in the wrong when you cannot give an actual answer?”
“And you should stop pretending you are more valuable than you are, corporal,” pulling away to look into John’s eyes. “All this does is make me curious.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
Instead of answering, Davoth throws John onto the table and gets on top. The man flat on his back, he sees the sharp points filling the lord’s inhumanly wide grin. Right before their lips meet, and he cannot scream once the long tongue pushes inside and forces him to open up, accepting the ruler. A hard bite on the intrusion is not acknowledged as he grabs an arm, and the flesh slithers down his throat. The long muscle choking him as he stops moving out of instinct.
The ruler takes advantage of this. Now showing he knows what the marine loves, twisting John’s head for the perfect angle that has him shudder. Both knees lifted as they press on Davoth’s sides to stay steady. Even as his hands curl into fist while counting the seconds to getting used on the other side. Experience telling him to grab something as his arms wrap around the ruler’s neck. Clinging to the powerful body as the tongue retracts just enough to play with the man's own.
His mind spins when he gets pulled up, still holding tight when he moans. His body on fire when a hand presses on his spine and John finds himself seated on the tabletop. The tongue retreats and the kiss ends, their bodies unwinding for Davoth to stand up straight. The man’s eyelids heavy and his shoulders shake when he uses quivering fingers to wipe away the drool. A slow pant helps him breathe when he gawks at the one who did this. His jaws slack as he focuses on ending the dizziness.
John tries to recover when Davoth returns to lift his shirt, pressing a hand right next to the circle. The thumb millimeters from touching the edge as the lord fists his throat and stares for a moment. Now telling him, “What a lovely reaction, toy. I feared you might need this spell to give me any cooperation, but oh how you quieted that worry. Thomas, take your marine and follow. The meeting is to begin soon.”
“What?” John murmurs. This confusion increases when he notices the door is open for Sarge to watch with a blank expression. A pang of embarrassment only making his spinning brain do a hard reset as he, tries to, stare back.
The marine looks at his superior with crossed eyes while the older man helps him down. A guiding hand kind enough to make sure he could stand before checking his face. The hold not leaving until John pulls away. The man hearing a sigh from the Sergeant when he steps aside.
“So you can handle that much,” purrs Davoth as he takes the Sergeant’s place and touches John's back.
“Thought we had a fucking meeting or something...” tucking in his shirt.
“How correct,” blinking to have his eyes turn a piercing green, his smile softening to become less predatory and far more alluring. In seconds, sporting a short beard that sharpens his jawline; his entire appearance transformed as the skintight pants change into a perfectly pressed suit. A strange light shines in the ruler’s irises, showing a new predator hunts John now. A wink has him mentally cornered when the lord looks like someone he would see in a magazine hidden behind a password on his computer. Once more horrified by the ways he could imagine the bastard fucking with him—especially using this unfamiliar face.
But such thoughts do not reach the ruler when he caresses the gawking marine and places a soft kiss on a cheek. The man not flinching, he receives another while Davoth tosses Orcus through a portal, saying something none of the humans understand. Next, he tells all of the men to follow, ordering the Slayer to feed Baal when they arrive.
None say a word when a portal opens into a massive round area with a high ceiling. The walls the same drab gray as the halls, space stands out thanks to the two notable aspects of the decoration. Along the back wall, a tall stage with a towering throne grabs John’s attention first, next seeing the large window behind the seat. Sunlight floods the room, bathing the thing in golden rays. The rest of the space lit by softer, but more electric, sources.
However, what grabs his attention next feels more important. Not far from where they exit the portal sits a long table full of people in clothes of exquisite quality. Both suit and uniform show off the wearer's status as he cannot ignore the mix of medals and silks creating a shining wall of high social status and a lot of formal titles. All seated behind a table made of dark wood that seems to smolder where he should see the grain. The piece so long it begins in the middle of the room and ends by the stage.
Who are all these people? They look important, but none are from his sections of the building. Seems to be the kind of group that do their planning on higher floors and know what a hearing with a government entity really entails.
A glance at a few with multiple lines of pins helps John avert his gaze back to the men he arrived with. His pace steady as Sarge leaves the group to sit closer to the stage. The two marines follow to the throne so everyone below stands to bow, Davoth looking unimpressed from his seated position. A hand lifted for them to sit, the lord motions for the Slayer to approach. The man takes John’s arm to lead the way, standing at the lord’s side. A finger points down to have the warrior kneel, Davoth caressing his breeder's short locks as he gets comfortable for Baal to latch on. A few cooing at the table as they watch the kid eat like they had just discovered what a breast is.
His toy was not in the mood to follow, staying out of reach as he stands on the front edge of the stage. Almost expecting Davoth to snap at him to come closer, he is relieved when the worst he gets is an eye roll. And for once, John is glad to be told nothing. No one gives a damn about what he wants as he remains attentive to every word and gesture. Face blank as he prepares to take mental notes.
The meeting is just what John expected, and that is boring. Not because he was asked questions or forced to correct anything obvious. It was that he got threatened and dragged here by Davoth and had to return to literal Hell. Then sits here to answer about five questions about a few relevant but random topics. Like he knew they served a purpose, but he was not an expert in most of the subjects. Or can recognize most of the charts that appear above the table. Or see the point of needing to know his chest size...
Honestly, John found the whole contrast more interesting than the endless reports or tablets to translate. And still made more sense than whatever device a doctor was building. The fact this place where souls were supposed to suffer and demons roamed was so banal. That he was stuck in a fucking meeting instead of at least fearing for his life had to be the strangest part of this whole day.
He was having a normal morning until Baal started teething. Why couldn’t he enjoy the day and the routine he had made for himself?
A squeal has him snap back to the real world. A peek at the throne to see Davoth say Baal agreed with his decision. All at the table smile and laugh, a few shuffling papers when the lord praises them for not disappointing him this time, would not have to interrupt playtime with his heir today. His hands bouncing the child on his lap as they thank him for his kind words and good news. A few letting out long sighs when John turns away to stare at his feet. A glance at the Slayer, he learns the big guy was somewhere else in his head. His face falling when a hand strokes his hair and he gets comfortable on the ground.
Then it all ends. The entire thing is done when Davoth excuses everyone from the table. John, for the millionth time, wondering why he was in Hell at all. The whole “being pardoned from the ritual” makes him even more confused. At least getting bled out over a pentagram would make sense, despite the modernized style of the palace. The lack of screaming damned and burning bones is odd if he was honest. Maybe the bastard kept business and pleasure separate? Must keep all the torture devices deeper in his gory basement. The shackles and hidden table had to be only the beginning.
With a shrug, he sees the lord staring at Kelly and a superior who hadn’t gone through the portal. The man he didn’t know bowing as he glances at Baal. Davoth seems to notice the same thing as he lifts his heir and asks what the guy needs.
Who tries to keep his composure as he stammers he wants to learn how the children are doing. Davoth frowns and states he does not care about fake concern, many only ask this to gain favor or to give an upper hand to their own spawn—the last word spat out like it would kill the recipient.
The superior blinks and remains silent, keeping his mouth shut. John takes a look at the bug-eyed expression he wears and guffaws, the sound ringing out before he can stop himself. Quick to correct this mistake and cough, stepping back when both of the superiors below glare at him. Face blanking when he quiets, waiting for someone to say something. The three glancing at the ruler on his throne.
But all the ruler says is, “I would go, Sam, since you are no better than a fool with this deception. It is not earning anything but scorn.”
“I apologize, but this is genuine,” replies the target of disgust. “Those who will make a true difference deserve attention, not some kid that might cure a deadly disease. They are born and fail all the time.”
“Even the breeder’s toy was honest. But that is not saying much about him… He has no issues being blunt to even me.”
“I… Yes, venerable one.” Another deep bow, he retreats while Kelly steps forward.
The Sergeant places a hand on the other's shoulder as he says, “I think you need to work on timing. The wise ruler has been busy with the heirs. Were you trying to talk about a gift for the babies? You still do that?”
“Of course. With this marvelous progress, I would be foolish to not bother.”
“Understandable. The silk used is worthy of any royal, much less us. I will explain things. You choose a color that matches their fur. Sound good?”
“Yeah, I apologize.”
“Great. Any changes should come with the next report.” A nod to have the other depart, the portal closes to leave the five alone.
“That was diplomatic, Thomas,” says Davoth, motioning the older man to approach. “You are far better at this than assumed.”
“Sam was only asking if you wanted some toys and knitted things for the child.”
“Hmmm, I suppose I should forgive that. Add a fitting apology to his commentary. Just give the reports as planned and tell him to match Baal’s skin. However, make it just a blanket to use when they nap.”
“I will make a note of that.”
“Good. Continue with these efforts, and you might reach their ranks. Unless you have another reason to be so careful with words.”
“No, I am only observant. There is only one way to speak around those who act big. Those who matter are all different and require actual understanding. Real leaders focus on improvement and are worthy of attention.”
“Not bad with the empty sentiments. Then I will maintain my opinion at this time. You can pick a reward. Ask for something reasonable, and I shall make it so.”
Kelly blinks but shakes his head. “There is nothing I want, my lord. You have given me enough.”
“Come now, do you assume there is a hidden price? There is no extra cost with this.”
“And I cannot think of anything.”
The exchange continues like this until Davoth gives up and has Sarge come take the child. As the lord hands him Baal, adding, “Follow Orcus to my bedroom. Stay by the guard, or the demons will sense you are earthborn and attack. Your mark differs from my breeder’s and does not offer protection here.”
Sarge swallows and holds Baal close to his chest. “If that is your desire…”
“I only want you to have a corpse that can be buried.”
“Yes, I understand.”
The four adult turn when the heavy footsteps of the marauder fill the room, the Sergeant paling when he sees who would be his guide. More so when he pulls out his axe and creates energy blades. The two stare at each other when red eyes scan the new human forced under the demon’s protection. A glance at Davoth, the lord gives a lazy wave and sends them off. Dwarfed by the massive frame, Sarge almost grabs a leg when a beast with a squished face and huge paws stomps down the hall. Orcus laughs at this reaction as he promises to not rip the man apart if he can keep his composure. Sarge’s reply is hard to hear when they walk out of the room and a different demon screams, an eyeless skull bouncing past the doorway.
Now just the three of them, John turns back to Davoth when he hears a sigh. The corporal maintaining his silence when a hand gestures him closer, playing along while he can be sure the mood is pleasant. His feet moving at a natural speed to stand just off to the side of the throne.
Davoth reclines in his seat and touches the Slayer’s face, making the warrior pay attention; eyes locked when the lord’s normal features return. The man motionless as the hand slides toward his collar, stopping short of touching the glowing stone. The fingers gripping the front to bring them together as the bastard gazes at the watching corporal with a grin. Green meets red when the harsh glare dares John to stop him. The act done for the sole purpose of testing him. The silent dare tells him to react and prove the Slayer failed to keep his toy in line. One wrong move was more than enough for punishment if he knew anything about this asshole.
But John keeps his composure, his face calm, hands at his side. Now was not the occasion to misbehave. The simmering aggression was not worth the price of another failure. That would come in good time… Just had to act obedient, and he could get back to Earth with his ass intact.
Davoth holds the look for a minute, tempting John with an excuse to swing a fist while he asks a question. “Tell me, Slayer. Where would you like to rest for being good? I think you can have a break if you continue doing well.”
The Slayer stiffens and growls, “Earth.”
“Is that what you really mean?” tearing his gaze from John to drag the seated man into his lap. The warrior still on his knees, his head gets shoved into Davoth’s crotch when he’s flipped over, a finger pushing the stone before either marine reacts.
Neither can resist the effects when John opens his mouth to yell, and he moans instead. The sudden change in motivation from rage to pure lust is like a hard slap to the face that almost sends him to the ground. Knees shaking when he sees the Slayer jump onto Davoth’s lap, wrapping his arms around the lord. And he wants to join. That was where he had to be. He was just as good. Just as eager.
The desire… need is too strong to ignore. He leans on the throne and watches the breeder chuckle as a hand plants his ass on the lord’s thighs. Like the corporal should be.
“Davoth…” John whispers, reaching out when a painful grip on his forearm stops that. “Please.”
“So, you got calibrated right the first time.”
“Yeah,” smiling as he uses his free hand to touch the ruler’s face. The almost bone-breaking clench on his arm is worth it. John not breaking his gaze as his jaw clenches and he leans into the embrace. Pain heard in his voice when saying, “Could we get started? What can I do? If I am fit to serve you, what are we waiting for?”
Now it’s the Slayer’s turn to react, obvious confusion having his frown twist in an odd way. A soft touch on his toy has the man adjust and laugh, his tone thick with need.
With a slow sway of the hips, John’s entire body shivers when he thinks about the bigger cocks awaiting pleasure. His chest aches that he was not yet told to stretch his jaws and gag on either, like he was a sloppy hole. Or maybe get fucked in the ass. Then they each can leave him so defiled he couldn’t push come out for a week.
In a low voice, John says, “Let me… Fuck, could I just get something? I would be the best toy after! Yeah. Teach me to behave again. Show me why I was wrong.”
The Slayer blinks and grabs his other arm, looking over the smaller marine for a second. Then he smiles and pleads, “Why not right now? I can do it without… breaking you.”
“Whatever you want…” biting his lip as the hand crushing his forearm lets go.
Only to almost destroy his throat. Nails bruise the thin skin when Davoth asks, “And why would I ever let a toy decide a single part of this?”
“Because I would love to ride your cock as if the world was going to end. Thanks to you, I can fuck the most powerful being in Hell if you need your balls emptied. There is no way I would refuse if you shot enough in my ass to make me taste come.”
“Like you ever would have a choice.”
“That’s why I want to fuck actual royalty. You know what is yours. You gave me this. Why not enjoy all that comes with the circle?” whining when the clenched fingers squeeze tighter for a second. Right before the hand lets go, having him slump forward to lean on the lord’s broad chest. A delicious gulp of much-needed air helping the spots to disappear from his eyes. A blink to focus, he sees the other two exchange looks, as if debating what to do with him.
The indecisiveness acts like a flipped switch, making him act since no one else would. A hand reaching for Davoth’s crotch, the zipper gets pulled down for the massive cock to flop out. Watching as both stare, and the lord smiles at his actions. The Slayer whines when he is told to stand up and let the toy prove he is being honest. The breeder obeys with some effort, sliding off to sit at his sire’s feet.
John grins and shifts to get in front of Davoth, playing with the exposed cockhead before stripping. Naked and efficient, he is in the lord’s lap to waste no time unbuttoning the pointless jacket and shirt, throwing them all to the floor without a care. Fingers touch the glowing orb in the lord's powerful chest, he stares at it while caressing the bulging muscles. His cock twitching when his other hand strokes the bigger shaft so close to his hole. The fist having trouble fitting more than half as he adjusts, red eyes watching with amusement when he turns around and uses both hands while a finger traces his spine.
“Are you sure you are ready?” hisses Davoth. “I can be kind if you ask nicely.”
John nods, whimpering as the large digit finds his ass, poking the tight rim to yield just a little. Still not saying a word when he leans back and lets the tip inside, feeling how wide this stretches him already. A look at the far bigger cock shows how much he could get if he played the cards right. A slow grind of the fingertip getting him to speak with an unsteady voice.
“Yeah,” he whispers, making the entire finger fit. “I can take the breeder. This is the only logical next step. What else am I here for? You want to come, right? I’ll at least try hard,” a slow lift bringing him to the very tip to sink back down. A small shudder having him do that a few more times on his own.
A whimper from the Slayer has John gaze down and see a sight that makes his hole clench and cock throb. The bigger marine on his knees, he watches with parted lips while palming his hardening shaft. His clothes were missing for all to gaze at the massive head twitching as sharp breaths show what he needs. John grinning as the hand knuckle deep inside his ass slips out to slap a cheek and push him away. The corporal falls into the waiting man’s lap, clinging to his broad neck like a life raft. Again shuddering when he is ensnared by powerful arms. The breeder quick to distract his toy with a rough kiss.
John chuckles when he grabs the Slayer’s face to not end this too soon. Letting a far shorter tongue shove into his mouth when he finds their cocks and fists the shafts, jerking both off to the lustful moans muffled by hungry lips. Not stopping when a forceful thrust tries fucking the hand. Instead, he goes faster to make the Slayer pull away and attack his neck, biting the soft skin so hard it bleeds. Powerless to escape when the teeth sink in and force him onto the floor. A growl sending a wave of lust up his spine when the breeder leaves for him to bleed onto the stage.
This was the kind of sacrifice John could do. Drain him of everything. That is what the marines deserve.
A purr has both men turn to see Davoth watches with a grin, his heavy cock on display as he sits naked on the throne. The inhuman erection throbbing for them to stare at when he fists the base and seems to order his fucktoys to focus on what matters. A hard throb makes the Slayer sit up and kneel while John gets on his hands and knees, both enthralled by the true goal. Each standing at attention when the ruler holds out a hand, his fist giving slow strokes over the shaft.
In a raspy voice, Davoth says, “I think it is time to see what this new toy can do. Don’t you agree, breeder? Come here and I will take care of you.”
The Slayer nods and lets the outstretched hand guide him to the side of the throne. Hands on the arm, he is made to bend over so his ass is in the air and his face rests on Davoth’s chest. A sigh shakes his body when two fingers push into his hole and get to work. The fast thrusts having him moan like a toy on the highest setting got shoved by his prostate.
Now turning back to John, Davoth says, “I suggest you use that mouth and get us ready. You crave gratification, so prove you can do more than just talk. Plenty say the same and would end up worse than you before I gifted the circle.”
John doesn’t hesitate when the cock sways in the fist, grasping the shaft to inhale the musk and smoke that sets off every part of his brain that matters. A drunken smile twists his face when he hurries to have his tongue pleasing the virile leader from the head down. Already tasting the sweet and salty flavor of the one who had given him this chance. The glans sliding in to stretch this end just like the first time, massaging the top. His jaws ache when he pulls off to drool all over the length, licking what didn’t fit before.
He would do this right if it hurt. There was no way he could fail. To be denied a moment like this next time... He could not imagine such a fate.
The cock slips back in with a little more work, feeling how it wants to fuck his hole while testing his limits. The slow bucks are at least more forgiving this time around. The lord not as quick to take over and force his jaws around the girth. But he still fights to not choke. A few more attempts encourage the head to slither down and stretch his throat—the ache so much better this round. The mound it makes in his hole when he gets impaled is so hot he can’t help but gaze up to see the lord watch with satisfaction. A pleased smile praising the toy without saying a word.
A slow pull reveals the massive cock coated in spit, seeing some drip onto the floor between their legs. This messy presentation stronger than simple words when the shaft stands tall to cast a shadow over John. The sunlight shines down, dazing the lustful man when he gets pulled to his feet, and a large hand grabs his dick. A gasp when the fist plays with the length. He keeps both arms at his side when they find the head and have him leaking. Though that may be all the moaning from the Slayer as he watches, the fingers currently plowing his ass now at three. Or it could be he can see the almost identical face of the lord and warrior watching him with different expressions.
If he didn’t stop soon, he would come before ever proving himself.
But if the venerable leader wants that…
Davoth seems to sense this and stills his strokes to pull John onto his lap, using the cock like a leash. A good one too, in seconds seated on his user to stare. Then the hand lets go, and he gets spun around, the ruler’s much bigger glans grinding on his hole. A slow trip up and down the crack coating the rim as it responds and opens more, showing the marine is more than ready.
And that seems to be enough proof for Davoth, a last pass over the area as he says to get ready. A second to acknowledge that this was happening, John is screaming when the hot glans punch through and have him nice and stretched from the tip. A guttural groan from the fullness, it grows deeper and ragged as more forces itself inside. The man almost silent when he looks down to realize only half of it is in. Breathing hard when he is impelled to acknowledge how much was waiting for him to be taken care of.
How does Davoth hide that large of a cock? There is no way he is walking around with all that in his pants and not—
A howl echoes in the room as Davoth gets bored with waiting and slams him down like the fucking toy he was. The head buried well beyond any cock that fucked him before. The bulge formed in his lower belly is a true hole destroyer. Such an image of his stomach becoming so full is nothing but an aphrodisiac. And it is impossible to deny how hot this makes him. Mind spinning when touching where the tip forces the abs to distort. Awestruck that he did it, at last. He could please the ruler as the circle allowed him to.
Being told just as so when the lord whispers, “What a beautiful sight, don’t you agree, toy?” Now grabbing John by the neck to lean back so his insides conform to the incredible girth more.
But even then, he only laughs. “Yeah, love it…”
“That’s what I want to hear. So, you can either let me do this or show me how much you want this. I’m sure the breeder would like to see it too…”
The hand lets go for John to turn and watch the panting Slayer grin as the fingers slow and he whines. In a low voice, the breeder replies, “Whatever he wants…”
John is unsure what that means, but nods and pulls off, looking at the slick shaft as he savors how massive the girth is. Over and over in his mind, repeating how much he would gape when this finished. The thoughts of being left open and destroyed growing stronger.
The lust amplifies when the head returns to make his hole even more of a mess. A sharp buck filling him anew so his mouth falls open. A slow rise grinding the message into his very core that this is where he should be. Unable to stop a moan when he is pushed back down and he wants to stay this full for as long as possible. There was no better position he could think of when fucking the ruler. Pulling off to give a quick stroke and take a deep breath, brushing aside a strand of hair when a hand drags him back to his seat.
John wants to scream with unadulterated bliss when seeing stars once he works on just fitting it in there again. Sharp gasps and low moans stuck in his throat as he gets back to the top and lets gravity help this time.
But like the breeder, John knows what he must do. If he wanted this, he would fucking have it. The ache of being used by Davoth is only a reward as it lessens, and he goes faster. A hand holding his thigh while another takes the ruler’s hand, he maintains what leverage he could to slam down on the length. The slap of skin and his grunts mixing with the sounds of pleasure from the other two. Watching how his cock bounces and clear drops fly onto the floor when arching his spine. Mouth open and panting as he speaks absolute nonsense, any coherent thought scrambled and crushed before any can form a sentence. The dumb words matching the stupid grin plastered across his face.
More so when the hand he holds leaves, and an arm wraps around his waist to stay in this position. With a sound of worry at this decision, Davoth comforts him with praise, promising the toy is doing fine. Next adding he wanted to do something different when hearing the Slayer cry out.
John sees the other marine stunned as the ruler leaves his hole empty. A look at the fingers that got the Slayer this far, he about sobs when they retreat. Only to shut up when Davoth tells him to stand in front of the throne. The breeder would orgasm soon. Said man obeys without pause, his red shaft and heavy balls filling John’s vision as he can’t help but take the hint and lick the head. Then chuckle as Davoth purrs and says he was fast.
The lustful toy shows how true this is when he grabs the base and slides the cock down his throat with ease. At the back, his nose is deep in the bush to gaze up at the powerful man. This is his cue to hum as fingers ruin his hair, and he grips the other marine’s wide hips to stay steady. Pulling off to suck in air as he listens to the Slayer groan while his dick twitches. The way the digits clench John’s short locks a good sign.
But John knows he is doing great when he gets dragged back. Right as Davoth decides now is the perfect moment to shove his cock inside the toy again. And if it wasn’t for the one already in his mouth, John would have howled with ecstasy as he earns just what he wished for. Stretched and filled better than a hard round of double penetration behind a club, he cannot find a single thing wrong with the current situation. This is where he belonged to get his brains fucked out until he is useless as even a demon’s fleshlight.
Eyelids heavy and hands busy, he tells the one above with a pleading look what he needs, letting his lips slide off and get forced back down. Not even gagging as this far more merciful girth fucks his face. John’s eyes shut when the thrusts from both ends increase. Just taking what air the Slayer gifts him to moan when the head sits on his tongue. Not allowed a moment to rest as he licks the tip, his cock throbbing from the bitter taste. His side heaving, filling his lungs right before he gets plugged from both sides again. Heart racing as his slit leaks, and he grabs the shaft.
The Slayer notices this as he pulls out and slaps the smaller man’s face with his dick, asking if he needed to come that bad. John smiles and nods, kissing the offered glans as Davoth says to finish the breeder. Wanted to see him sucking off a real brood-stallion.
Not one to disobey such a command, John devours the Slayer as he leans back, staring as his toy goes hard and fast. The bigger marine’s knees shake when the lips wrapped tight around the head are helped by two hands. Both of John’s arms are a blur as he works on making it impossible for the breeder to not come. Leaned forward when the hold on him leaves to have a hand on each hip. His ass now pounded as he moans on the shaft. Grunts from the lord fill his ears as he shuts his eyes again and lets the lust take full control. So close…
John wants to moan when hot seed shoots down his throat. A jolt of surprise when the first thick rope spills into his warm hole. He opens one eye to see the girth pulse as he feels every drop fill his stomach, helping the rest join. Davoth doesn’t stop moving, but he slows down when the toy stiffens. A fiery breath heating the man’s back to know who was most pleased by his hard work. The ruler kind enough to yank him off once the Slayer empties his balls and sighs. The pair on the throne staring when the breeder sits down with a smile.
“That’s an excellent vessel,” whispers Davoth. “Now, what should I do with the toy? Should I finish him off?”
“Yeah…” his voice slurred. “Fuck him hard!”
“Hmmm, you are insatiable even when not being bred. But I suppose that should be expected. Right, John?”
“Yes! Fuck me. I can take it.”
“Wonderful answer. Be good and tell how much you love it. If you do, I will not break you before coming.”
The threatened marine laughs as he lifts off and turns around, his arms clinging to Davoth’s body. “Or I could show you…” nuzzling his face into the crook of the sire’s neck.
“What a bold man you are,” pressing his cock to the wide-open hole. Sliding in to hear a moan right as John takes the hint and seats himself on the muscular lap. A shared grunt filling the room when a sharp buck ensures every inch is enveloped in the tight tunnel.
But John’s grunts are quick to morph. The noises coming from his lips change to moans when hands grab his hips to ride the lord. The corporal howling as he clings to the powerful leader. His voice was so loud he waits for a yell from Davoth to shut up. Instead, being ordered to create all the sounds he desired, the demons liked to listen as a fighter gets bred. This last word making him grunt while forced to see this is the truth. Why else would his stomach look so… well-loved?
Yeah, that was it. That’s why he was here. The lord controls him. He may never deserve a womb, but he would do anything to keep the two that can create heirs happy. Davoth demands to breed with anyone he wants, and each marine should sate his cravings.
Doing just that when a low growl from Davoth tells the man he served this purpose. The sounds vibrating his body when too much come shoots deep inside. His stomach already swollen, the rest of his guts are now flooded with virile seed. The load was enough to impregnate anyone.
The toy bites his lip as the thrusts slow to breed him. Fill him to the brim… Too full to stop the firm strokes on his cock when the sire whispers he earned this and continues fucking his hole at the same time. John leaning backward to give more room as he pants, head thrown back to beg. The crazed words cut off when he’s commanded to come. Show the lord his pleasure.
The second the order gets spoken, he shoots all over the tattooed chest, painting the tan symbols in white ropes. All he has for Davoth spilling as the fist milks him dry. The last dribbling out to land on their laps when the hand retreats, and he unwinds to slide to the floor. Spent and limp on the ground as red eyes inspect this offering. A small smile having John watch as the lord stands and snaps away the mess.
“I always forget how little it takes to create humans," Davoth says. "I suppose I cannot fault you for not performing at the same level as my breeder. Must make you happy, Slayer. Less to clean up than the higher-ranked demons.”
The Slayer nods, touching John’s face when kissing a cheek. The corporal chuckles, sitting up to do the same in return. Then he grabs the collar for a harder one on the lips. His hunger returns as he makes this quick, ending it when Davoth stands over to watch. Both smiling when he tells them to get up. Someone was here.
All turn to see who arrived, gazing down at a shocked Sarge. His eyes wide, he stares at all three with a slack jaw. A glance at the two marines as they exchange looks, he turns to the lord.
“Ah, it seems the Sergeant has returned unharmed,” says Davoth, sitting on the throne. “Is my child sleeping?”
“Um, yes, venerable leader…” Kelly replies. With a cough, he adds, “If this is a bad time to talk… I can wait in another room.”
“No, we just finished. Now is fitting to ask about your reward. Are you still unsure? I know you have a hobby of hunting. Would you want an item to aid with those efforts?”
“No, sir, I like the challenge. If I got help, it would be pointless.”
“I understand,” snapping to make Kelly lift his face. “But this makes me wonder about your goals. There must be something. All beings crave a wish granted. And few turn down such a generous prize as the one I have offered.”
“I cannot think of anything at the moment. Maybe we can speak at a later time?” taking a step backward as he glances at the staring marines.
“No need. There is a prize that I’m sure will show my appreciation. John, come here.”
The man stands, letting Davoth grab an arm and drag him off the stage. Next shoving John to his knees in front of the superior. A snap has his spine straighten as the lord grabs a fistful of hair, and he looks up with a sloppy smile. The pain leading the man to laugh and spread his legs, knowing what this was going to mean. A hand on a thigh to show they could start.
“Wise leader…” stammers Kelly, stepping further back. “What about the rules? You said this was not allowed.”
“How ironic to mention that after what happened to my breeder. And all the fun you hid from your marines. What would your men say if they knew you let a technician overpower, pin down, and use you? How long would it last before they lost all faith in the mighty Sarge? Or recreate the incident? I'm sure more than a few would love to see you in such a compromising position for themselves.”
“But—” flicking his eyes to John when the marine perks up at this information. The pair above seeing how his mind races with so many questions.
The smile grows on Davoth’s lips, seeping into his tone. “Plus, after all the rules you broke on Mars, why are you so against ignoring this order?” pointing at the circle branded on the Sergeant’s neck.
Sarge slaps a hand over the mark, taking another step back. “That was Doctor Betruger who planned the distress signal! I had one with far less mess. He didn’t listen.”
“Enjoy the toy and be grateful,” yanking John to his feet.
The jostled man whines and bucks his hips, stood on his toes to have his cock twitch. A hard slap on the ass silences any more complaints for the corporal to get turned around as a hand touches the edge of his circle. He glances at the lord as the fingers inch closer. Watching as they trace the circumference to make the entire thing glow. A sound of confusion answered with a shake of the head, Davoth presses on the runes to have a few dim. Then tap a couple more before touching the center to have it return to a normal flesh color. Another noise of sheer bewilderment for the ruler when he stares at the marine.
Davoth smirks and looks at Sarge, telling him, “He’s yours, Thomas. I added a few changes to the circle that should be fitting after last time. Do whatever you wish. I set it to deactivate when you both finish. A pleasant change I know you should appreciate.”
John can’t help but notice a glint in Davoth’s eyes as he speaks. A smile on the marine’s face when the lord turns away and winks at the corporal, giving him a soft kiss on the lips. A last touch on a cheek and he is left with a blinking Sarge as he inquires about a shower. The only answer was to follow Orcus, he would lead again.
As if on cue, said demon stomps down the hall as the man pales and John smiles. Both look up when the marauder stops in front of them, bending over to examine the marine as he purrs. A claw tapping on John's belly, he’s asked if he still sees the truth.
But the demon doesn’t wait for an answer, knows the toy did by how loud he screamed before. The entire palace heard him. John agrees with a hum when the three exit the throne room. The floor shakes as they walk, the corporal spotting a few beasts bigger than Orcus and with bottom halves similar to Baal. Their large horns and jaws having him smile and ask what they are once the group is out of sight.
“Those are barons of Hell,” says the marauder. “Those are demons I mentioned before. You are still not worthy of pleasuring such creatures. Not like the Slayer. He has done so since he was in Davoth’s possession.”
John nods, pulling Sarge between himself and Orcus. Now saying, “I see, yeah. You were big enough for me…”
“Hmmm, I accept your thanks. Understand where you belong, human, and continue to serve where you are fit.” The tone of his voice is breathy and low, like he was fighting to not steal the man he praised and fuck him that very second.
“I will…” John replies, touching Sarge’s face to have him glare and pull on the hold.
But the marine wins when a half-snake demon approaches and sees the Sergeant, the large hooks protruding from its arm having both men give it room. Their eyes widening at the twisted form as it glances at the toy and slithers away.
A laugh from John when he asks, “Think that was thanks to me?”
Sarge growls and averts his gaze. “Marine, if you do not end this conversation right now!”
“Only if you explain what Davoth was talking about. Tell me what you did to the Slayer. No, what did he do to you? Fucked you hard? Or did he let you lead? I loved when he bent over in the closet to have me… take over.” This last part said in a shaky whisper as he runs a hand over the toned torso of his superior. Shuddering at the realization of what was happening.
But the Sergeant turns away when he responds, putting a hand over John’s, stopping the caress. “I just collected fluids on Davoth’s orders. He recognized it was necessary and complied from the start. Until I activated the collar, and he took over on his own. That is all you need to know.”
“That’s okay, I will be nicer. Never got to fuck a superior before. Maybe I should have. Though many were not as fun to rile up,” pulling free to resume exploring each part of the torso.
Sarge doesn’t respond, ignoring what the marine does when fingers explore every inch of muscle. His mouth shut despite the light blush and deep frown. A promising reaction crosses his face while fingertips trace his abs. A slight shudder causes the source of his response to perk up, wondering out loud if the Sergeant liked that. No answer given when the older man looks at the floor.
But John is not interested in being denied answers again today. The hand sliding past the other’s belt, he finds the zipper and follows the teeth to find hidden treasure. His voice low and deep when asking, “So how do you work when not in uniform? What does our Kelly do outside of his position as Master Sergeant? Are you consistent, or do you like to switch things up out of the office?”
No verbal response, his gaze remains on the ground. However, the frown grows when fingers locate the shaft and he stops, letting this happen. Not doing a thing when the toy sees it’s decent.
And with this reaction, John continues. “I've got nothing to complain about, considering my position. But we all realize you brought all this on yourself… So, do you top, or did this incident prove you don’t choose to be in control? Remember, being quiet will tell me everything I need to know.”
“Shut up, marine! I am doing this to have you back to normal, so you can keep the breeder from doing anything stupid on base.”
“No need for that attitude. Why are you angry? And how should I fix this?” cupping the superior's chin to kiss his face, taking this opportunity to explore more of his body.
“Orcus…” Kelly hisses, turning to glare at the marauder.
The lustful man chuckles while Orcus pulls out his shotgun, blasting a small spikey orange creature hanging on the wall. The corpse burning away as the men notice the pink shaft in a fist.
Then shooting a few more before the marauder replies, “He is obeying orders just fine. Davoth likes good little breeders that are exactly like this. Full of need and eager to satisfy. If you are not pleased with this, I can tell the wise ruler and take care of him instead. I love the delicious human. Our leader should have a fitting replacement for you. Maybe the breeder will do...” The smile hidden under the mask still easy to see in his eyes.
Sarge pales and pushes John into a wall, pinning the marine with a fist around his throat. “No need to make this complicated. How far to the showers?”
“The room is close, but out of the way for a reason. Few citizens require such a thing. The Slayer was the last one to use it.”
“Great, let’s keep moving,” grabbing the toy to drag along.
John whining at this treatment, he shuts up when Sarge backhands his face. The red mark having an immediate effect when John holds on tighter than before while his cock and hole throbs.
Kelly now asks Orcus, “Is there nothing you want with him? You said you desired him too.”
“I have other duties, human, so do not mock me when you have what I enjoy."
“And I am sure something could be done.”
“I can explain what I did before to offer some ideas. Do you wish to hear about how he created a mess swallowing my cock? Or how he was bloated with seed and begging to fuck after? Or that I drove him insane after I pinned him down, fucked the come out twice, and made him scream? You decide, or end up like him at the hand of a different marauder. Bloody, pleading, and spent.”
Sarge shudders at these suggestions, glancing at the marine as he nods and feels his body getting ready again.
“Can’t we do that again?” asks John. “Loved coming from being stretched by your cock. Could take both, won’t even fight.”
“The warning goes for you too, toy. You will behave, or I will leave you with a prowler. Now get clean.” A point to the small door at the very end of this hall, the way opens for them to walk inside.
“Maybe next time…” unwinding to touch the marauder’s arm and get slapped on the ass. Almost crying out when a claw finds his hole and forces its way in. A sharp pain right by the entrance has him whimper until the finger pulls out, and he sees only a clear shine on the digit. His mouth shut to let Sarge lead him to the only shower head, purple water soaking the marine. In seconds, scrubbing every inch he could reach when told to not leave a sign of what he had done in the throne room. Knuckle-deep inside to see he would not find Davoth’s load. Wondering as he steps away from the shower if it was there at all. The intestines are long...
But he shakes his head and shrugs, not finding the energy to worry when he has a fine distraction. Already back at Sarge’s side to grab his belt buckle. None of the fight that was there before, he drops to his knees to unbuckle the belt and have the pants fall to the floor. Both hands on a knee when he smiles and sees the other was not lying about being in shape. His muscular thighs are perfect for framing the long shaft as he glances at the Sergeant’s face. Neither speaking when John plays with the older man.
Need floods the toy’s voice when he asks, “Want me to stop? Or should I get started?”
“You can figure that out, marine.”
John smiles, flicking his tongue across the shaft. A lick over the slit, he holds the base in a fist, getting the top slick with spit as he strokes the length. Taking it slow, he keeps his eyes on the prize and listens for the odd sound and twitch to know how to continue. The tip is soon in his mouth as he glances up, seeing the Sergeant lift his head as it slips further inside. A groan leaves Sarge’s lips as the warm hole pulls him in. No words are needed for the toy to give lazy bobs as he lowers his gaze. More noises telling him this was the right direction. The hand follows suit to make the dick throb, and he swallows more of the girth. A hum causes the man above to stiffen and lean on the wall, his voice shaking as he struggles to say a single word. A moan from the older user like music to the marine’s ears when he slides off to stroke the cock. John laughing when Sarge’s palm tries to muffle the sounds but fails thanks to the echo of the shower.
And John cannot help but return mere moments after seeing such a wonderful sight. The red flush that travels down the Sergeant’s neck goes well with how his dick rises. The blood rushing to both heads makes him lose more of the weak control held over the marine. Who notices this as he grins and swallows the entire cock with way too much ease. Thankful that the lord had gotten him ready, he purrs as he wraps his arms around the shaking legs. A few bobs have more color leaving Sarge’s face. Said man grabbing John’s locks and pulling his head back.
The kneeling marine shows why the effort is pointless when he sucks in his cheeks and hums. Then he shoves the glans down his hole as he leaks onto the floor. The taste of cock and the scent of musk fill the toy’s mind. Faster motions have him work the whole thing as it gets harder, and the superior he pleasures grows louder. The palm that once covered Kelly’s lips hangs at his side.
Oh fuck… Yes, yes, yes!
“Marine!” yells Sarge, ripping him off.
“Yeah,” John asks, licking the tip to get a twitch in response. “Was that good?”
“Let go,” pushing the other man to the floor. His mouth opens to continue with, “I am not—” when he stops, staring at the marine's erection that drips onto the ground.
“What? Should know I am an excellent toy...” spreading his legs to show both ends were ready for more.
“Let’s move. I want this done and over sooner rather than later. We are going to follow the Spartan method now, marine,” pulling up his pants. Though as he zips up, nothing can hide his hard cock.
“Oh, that’s why you’re like this… Didn’t know you looked at me that way. How many marines have you trained under your... wing? Or should I be blunt and say in your bed? I’ll do my best to continue the tradition, sir.”
“Shut the fuck up, marine!” dragging John to the door. Face twisting with anger, he glares at the chuckling marauder as he snaps, “Bedroom now! No sass.”
Orcus laughs harder, saying, “And you wonder why we all enjoy this human so much.” A hand lifting to tap the light in his chest, the demon leads the way out of the shower.
“No, but I can hunt you like a bull elephant during mating season if you don’t do your job. They are a lot bigger, and way more angry.”
“Someone is getting excited. While I do not have a clue what you are referring to, I enjoy a good fight from a daring warrior. Maybe you will be better than the pathetic imps I put down for fun.”
“Oh, I think that should be easy,” the shared glare of both man and demon heating the already hot situation.
John basks in the fiery exchange as he can’t help but once more place a hand on the superior with a chuckle. Not at all minding the attention when the two turn and stare. The fight dying as quick as it began as they do not stop walking. But they do grow quiet when a loud moan warns all the marine needs to come. Now.
But then a new door opens, and John sees a bed smaller than the last time he visited. Not that he cares when the mattress is just as soft, and the sheets are clean. Sure, the Sergeant pushes his face into the bedding when he’s only halfway on. And the hands on his skull and spine are rough as he is ordered to not try anything. A harsh reminder of who was in charge when the clothed dick pokes his ass and the rim tingles with need. A hot breath blowing on his neck when Sarge leans in to have the corporal inhale musk and sweat.
“What do you like, John?” the Sergeant’s voice smooth as he almost whispers the question.
“I am all yours, sir, so fuck me how you want. Take whatever you demand, like Davoth does.”
“Marine, I am going to murder you,” moving the hand to an ass cheek, parting both to push a fingertip on the wet rim.
With a sigh, Sarge slides the fingers lower to smear slick on the crack. Soon groaning when he slips the entire finger inside, only stopping when knuckle-deep to pull out. A longer exhale head when he mutters something and gets to work, returning much faster the next time to hear John hum. A good pace begins, and the corporal opens his legs wide open. Thighs far apart when he turns his head to watch the other look at his hole with concentration. A laugh having the older man tear his gaze from where a cock should be to see John arch his back and smirk.
“What?” asks Sarge, not slowing.
“I can take more than that, sir. Need a couple more if you are going to make me come. Don’t be shy, I have taken worse poundings from weaker men. Though their skills made up for any shortcomings...”
“Yeah, yeah,” following the simple suggestion with little hesitation. Three fingers fill the hole to create a noise that mixes a moan and titter, the digits grinding on the tunnel when the toy’s cock leaks into the sheets. A slight curl of the erotic trio sends a jolt through the toy to buck his hips and he is so close to screaming.
John cannot even feel shame as his face twists, and he pants into the soft bedding. Sides rising and falling fast as he grabs the blanket and whines, pushing the hand away to grab Sarge by the collar and drag him onto the bed. The younger marine already climbing on top when his superior yells for him to get off. Would not copy the Slayer if he wanted to remain on computers.
But the threatened corporal laughs, saying he would listen better if he was punished. Needed a man to show what he deserved when being fucked. However, after a few seconds of nothing, John takes over again, stripping the Sergeant as he lets it happen. The shirt and pants are somewhere out of sight, hungry eyes instead focusing on what gets revealed; a lick of his lips as he grinds his body on the toned muscles, noticing how hot they both are. Soon swaying his hips as he leans forward to kiss the other’s chest and neck as he never stops creating friction to remain ready for his watching user.
Only to stop when a thought crosses his mind. A strange desire for answers about the state of Sarge. Asking the Sergeant, “You know, for being behind the desk so much, you look good. Better than most who work all day in an office... How do you manage that? Never got to see you in action...” the last word trailing off to give a kiss on the shoulder.
“Large game still fights back when hunted. I do not need to become cornered or out of breath when they retaliate.”
“Oh, shit... You are so right,” biting his lip when he slips a shaking hand between his legs, touching the nice soft taint. A shiver having him pull the hand away.
Sarge squints and curls his lips in disgust, asking, “Why is that your reaction?”
“Who cares?” grabbing Kelly’s face. “I can only imagine what it smells like in your gym bag. All that sweat... Oh, fuck, I cannot skip the next workout. Tell me when you do.”
And if he had any reason to not be so horny he would make a succubus or incubus blush, he destroys it with this revelation. If he could shove his nose into the sweaty shorts, he would come in seconds. Or after a good hunt. With dirt and gore staining his camouflage, there was no way he could hold back after that. The smell would have him fainting from blood loss so fast.
Fuck! He needed to get fucked right now!
In a blink, John pulls Sarge into a rough kiss. Only seconds after, both moan when he shoves his tongue into the superior’s mouth to discover if he is just as delicious here. A loud groan shakes his body when he finds it is, biting a lip to hear a gasp and go deeper. A fast buck of the Sergeant’s hips telling him to do more when riling up his user. And like a good marine, John obeys.
Pulling away to let them breathe, the marine rests a hand on Sarge’s ribs and lifts his ass. A look over a shoulder to see, he lines up with the waiting cock and impales himself. A loud, chest-deep noise bursts from his lips when he slides down and fills his hole. Only the hilt and thick thighs were there to stop him from being filled anymore. A whine at the missed sensation of riding dick, he savors the stretch of his hole. He doesn’t care that Davoth fucked him senseless right before this. That was far too long of a wait for a man like him.
A slow rise on the shaft brings him to the top, dropping to have his lips curl. The need for more increasing when his body becomes hot as Hell and the other man grabs his sides. The painful grip and a growl has his cock twitch when he whimpers, letting the hands lift him to force down again. His head thrown back with a howl when it hurt. And he only wants more. Now getting just that when Kelly bucks, drilling the feeling into his very core. A smile twisting his mouth when he looks down and asks if the other likes it rough.
The answer is loud and clear when the second buck is much more torturous. John groans when the arms move faster than before, letting Sarge decide the pace before leaning forward on his superior to help. The two moaning when he moves with the guiding hands. A sharp “Yes!” while he pulls off to examine the slick cock and heavy drops that leak from their slits. The grip slamming him down as if he had been gone too long. A cruel thrust punching his guts to send a spark up his body with a shudder. Spine arched to rest on the Sergeant more when he watches the man grunt when pounding his insides. The sounds like a beast in the wild when he chuckles and inhales the scent of their sweat, his mind swirling. Though that could have been from the quick breaths he takes.
But that hardly matters when he cannot believe what Davoth ordered him to do. John wonders if this is because of his good behavior before, or because he pleased the lord so well.
Maybe both? Yeah, he was great at serving this role.
A few quick thrusts hit his prostate. A jolt when electricity explodes in his ass. He yells, face toward the ceiling when the cock beats on the gland over and over. John finds it impossible to not grab his dick and jerk off when the relentless beating has him leaking all over Sarge. A big smile on his lips as the tight fist is a blur, his eyelids lowering as he sees this display makes the other go faster. The smug grin he wears only encourages the older man to growl and do whatever he can to wipe the expression off his marine's lips.
Doing a great job when the hands leave the toy’s sides to grab his ass and give a painful squeeze. John jumping before the fingers force his cheeks farther apart to make sure none of the cock is without. A slack-jaw look on his face when he moans and gets slammed down so hard the sound of their bodies meeting echoes in the room. The slap of skin is like a powerful kick to his brain as he leans back and never quits stroking his shaft, letting his user take total control again. This obvious warning to behave is heard without complaint when the hands painfully kneed his globes.
Praise for this obedience comes soon after. The movements going full feral, John can only stare as Sarge keeps somewhat of an even pace. Right before he stops and groans, the quick pulse of an orgasm telling the marine he did his job. A load spilling inside as much lighter thrusts help him finish. A few sharp breaths blowing hot air on John, the toy pulls his hand away to feel his first reward.
Sarge lays there for a moment, rubbing the man's thighs as he sighs. John knows what to do, the slow lift off the cock used to ensure the load remained inside. A growl at the resistance makes him chuckle and slide up faster, come dribbling down a thigh as he forgets about being neat. The corporal fisting his cock when he wipes the mess off and uses it for more lube on the shaft. Once more showing his joy as he watches the other sit up.
However, John begins to move at a manic speed when the other leans in to watch. His eyes crossed as he breathes hard and slides a couple of fingers into his hole. The two hands creating a state of debased bliss as he pants when on display like this, his ass pulling the digits in as if a real dick. Leaned back and legs spread when the head twitches, and he bucks into the fist. The groan from Kelly in response more fuel to the fire that makes his body so hot.
But when a hand joins the one on his dick, he finds it almost impossible to not come that very second. So close to screaming when Sarge says to hurry up and twists the wrist, sending a bolt of electricity up his cock. The new touch calls for the dam to break as he’s told to finish. The smartass remark he wanted to make vaporized when he gets another jolt to the brain and cannot stop the orgasm from shooting all over them both. With a shout from the Sergeant, John lifts his hips to fuck the fists so ropes hit his chest and the sheets. Painting the ten fingers white as he cries out and his eyes roll into his skull. His mind blank as he groans.
It is only after the hands retreat does he fall back onto the bed, breathing hard as he chuckles, sated. For now. If Sarge could wait a few, he should be—
The sudden end of the circle’s effects hit him like a punch to the face. The mental blow of the sudden loss sending a pang to his stomach as he bolts up and looks around the room. No amount of hellish heat or hellfire enough to warm the icy chill that fills his entire being when forced to accept reality.
No, no, no, no, no…
He whips his head to realize that this was not a horrific vision, Sarge sitting naked in bed as he glares back. Not bothering to hide anything as the older man crosses his arms and gives a slow blink.
“Sir?” John whispers, sliding backward.
“So glad to see you are sane again, marine.”
“Please tell me—”
“I think you can answer the question—whatever that is—by yourself.”
“Yes, sir…” turning away as his entire body feels like a solid piece of ice.
The Sergeant says nothing as he climbs out of bed, walking away to speak with Orcus and ask about washing up. The demon laughs as he replies they can do that later. Had better things to do first. The question of why answered with the clink of a belt, John turning to see that this torture was not over. Sharp claws reach for the marine as he doesn’t have any fight left. Not moving when they grab his throat and push on the circle. Too drained to even struggle after it takes over once more. A tired smile on his face as Orcus sheds his armor and climbs on top.
After the first two rounds, he accepts the marauder inside with a soft moan. No words said for wide lips to devour him, smothering any noise as he wraps his arms around the bigger demon. Bending to such power as he finds himself on all fours to get fucked from both ends at once without mercy. Just how he likes.
Left gaping and speaking in tongues after the two users exit. Alone for the unwilling to shuffle in the room and drag him to the shower. Just like he deserves.
Notes:
Bonus fact because I had to cut a scene for consistency: an old way to deal with certain aches is breast milk. If a child is teething, rubbing some on the gums and massaging it in might help soothe the area. If you have an ear ache, squirt the milk directly in the ear canal and wait for the pain to leave.
(Please note: this is just what I learned and cannot give you a doctor's explanation or verify these claims, but more than one mother I know swears by both.)And with that, I love to hear what people think of this chapter and if you have any ideas for the future.
Chapter 10: Always Palpate Your Breeder To Ensure Proper Development
Summary:
John decides to introduce the Slayer to an old friend, but Davoth has other plans for their relaxing afternoon. With jobs and a child on the way, they have more pressing matters to deal with when meeting the doctor for an ordered checkup.
Notes:
No serious warnings (unless you hate any mentions of bugs, or really love polar bears) but we get to learn what Davoth has been doing all this time at UAC. If you are unfamiliar with the C-suites in American corporation hierarchies, I will leave an important definition below for this chapter. Yes, the highest ranked corporate positions are called C-suites. No, I'm not sure why.
COO (chief operating officer) : the corporate executive who oversees ongoing business operations within the company. The COO reports to the chief executive officer (CEO) and is usually second-in-command within the company, but may also act as a mentor for the CEO in startups until they can properly lead, or can act as an equal to the CEO.
If you began reading this before this chapter, I changed John being addressed as a soldier to a corporal to be more consistent with titles like Sarge/Kelly. All the chapters have been updated to reflect this.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“What are we doing here?” the Slayer asks, peering at John and the small item in his hand. With a glance at the strange object, he cannot help but notice it was an odd contrast to all of the marine uniforms and bright jumpsuits. All shiny and neat, it clashes with the dull interior and drab setting of this section.
“Like I said before," replies John, "I have to make a delivery for Chelsea. Plus, this way you can meet her and wait for the next job without too many questions,” lifting the black bag he carries. Not at all concerned to be showing off the glossy material decorated with smiling moons and stars on both sides.
“Right…” taking a second to study the black, grinning, pointy-eared creature on the zipper that swings in time to their footsteps. “And this is okay?”
“Yeah, we aren’t doing anything against the rules. And besides, who would stop us? The strangers in suits that swarm that section? Nah, they will take one look at our uniforms and leave us the fuck alone.”
“The assignment is in an hour.”
“Count your blessings and enjoy some stress relief.”
The Slayer lets the corners of his lips fall into a deep frown for a second. The expression too quick for the distracted John to notice as he pulls out his PDA and unlocks the next area. But that’s enough to let out the warrior’s hatred of the term as they continue walking. It grated on his brain. The first time it was used had him worried. But now, he is so close to asking the other marine what he was doing this for. Why is the man mocking him with those words? There is no way the corporal is not using it as code for something...
“Hey, Slayer,” asks John, stopping by a door labeled Maintenance. A glance around before he continues with, “What did you do with Sarge before? Said something about collecting fluids, but not much else. Why were both superiors being so secretive?”
The Slayer looks down at the man, his face blank. “You remember that? Even after everything that happened?”
“Kind of hard to forget that confession. No matter how many times I get fucked by that marauder... And Sarge...”
“Kelly wasn’t lying…”
“Why did he need fluids? Why did he need your come?”
“Ritual.”
“This happens a lot to you? How does that help with your job?”
“Yes, and more than I assumed. Had done it multiple times. At least twice on Earth. The previous one. One helped find you.”
“Wait, what? You got jerked off by Davoth to locate me?”
“No, zombie security guards. Used me while tied up. A ritual performed with world leaders.”
“Shit…”
“I survived. Unlike them, so…”
“Was this the blood sacrifice, or…”
“Yeah, all of them.”
“Okay, fuck,” glancing at the ground. “Should I ask why Sarge was so weird?”
“I fucked him. Like you,” his tone flat to hammer in the blunt message. “He served Davoth both times. Got what he wanted. Probably didn't want to admit. Not my fault he was, was so obedient.”
“I guess…”
“Don’t think about it. Too much. Followers have plans. That is why they join.”
“Yeah...” nodding as he blinks. “Not like we can do anything. Yet.”
“Yes. How much further?”
John frowns at the sudden shift in tone but says, “Other side of this small hall. Most of this area is just for show to impress the stockholders and other businesses.”
A wave to keep moving, they stroll by more rooms before having a bigger door open into a short hallway and extensive white space. This area much cleaner and with way more screens on the walls, they play videos about the endless discoveries of this UAC. The boast of a brighter future which could only be achieved through the expert knowledge they possess.
People in suits and far more professional attire all walk around, filling the lobby with chatter. Many ignoring the two, some stop or pause conversations to look at the Slayer. The odd whisper and slight bow from some set off many alarms in his head. His mouth shut to not gain any pointless attention when they make the swift journey to the large round desk in the center. And where a woman speaks to a few workers in dark gray and blue uniforms similar to hers. Her tone quick and decisive as she types on a keyboard and pretends there is not a line of staff carrying stuff away.
“As I mentioned before,” the woman says to a bored worker, “there is no way I can do this so soon! I thought Mister Brooks said I had the rest of the week?”
The other shrugs and holds up his PDA. “Change of plans. He needs you there by the end of the day. Something came up, and the whole timeline got shortened.”
“Yeah, I better get that pay raise…” she says and pushes a button, getting out of her chair for it to be rolled away.
It’s now that John leans on the desk and asks, “Chelsea?”
This new stranger whips her head toward the name, her eyes widening for a second before she relaxes. “Hey honey,” she replies with a wave, letting the other worker leave. A smile on her round face, she brushes aside a blonde lock that landed behind her glasses. “Thank you for being so quick!”
“What is going on? Did something happen?”
“Yes, and it is the best thing that could have happened to me. The COO had to get a replacement to work the desk by his office, and thought I was a good fit. Said my way of doing things was the energy he needed.”
“That is great!” his face lighting up as he hands her the black bag. “I knew you deserved a better position. But you know what that means?”
“That you must find ways to visit, or I will do it for you.”
“Of course. You are the only person who brings such joy in this section.”
“Save the sweet talk for some fellow at the bar. Please tell me you are here to stay awhile. This sudden migration is a pain. Got any fun stories about that pregnancy you're helping with? Or the fun bastard baby daddy? Give me something besides this. Oh, did you finally get ultrasounds? Or is the daddy being weird again?”
“Well, I brought the special guy… The one and only.”
“Where is h—” cutting herself off when the Slayer walks forward. Eyes meeting, brown meets blue as she forces a smile and waves. “Hi…”
He nods. “Hello, nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, you too.” Next, tearing her gaze away to say, “John, I thought you said he was athletic. This guy is an entire gym and the pharmacy.”
John chuckles and leans on the desk. “No, I said he could beat most athletes at the gym. Do not worry, he looks scarier than he is. Though that is a low bar.”
“Yes, but I was expecting someone… taller. Maybe. Ever bring him to a drunken brawl?”
“Not yet.”
“Show me the video if you do. I want to see him crack open a few skulls.”
“Will do...”
“Hold on,” says the Slayer. “I don’t drink. Do not—”
A dreaded voice interrupts. The familiar deep tone echoing in the space to say, “Chelsea, did you send over the documents?” Davoth walking over as he smiles at the woman. Once more in a pressed suit and with a beard, the green eyes return to scan the marines as he approaches.
“Oh, Mister Brooks,” she replies, putting on a small smile as he walks behind the desk. A glance at the two men when she says, “Yes, they should be in the file you wanted. All are ready to sign.”
“So quick. Already trying for a promotion and not even in the new office. I knew you were the right one for this position.”
“I try my best.”
“Hmmm, as all here should. Now tell me, do you know these marines?”
“Uh, yeah. It is good to be friendly with coworkers.”
“This is not an interrogation; I'm only seeing who knows who. Both work closely with me, so this information is essential.”
“You do? How?”
"I better recognize who is carrying my children, and who is helping raise them.”
“Oh…” averting her gaze as John bristles but remains quiet. “I didn’t realize you were all so familiar with each other.”
“Then it was smart to ask the question now. I’ll say this only once, always let them into the office. And no it does not matter if I am in there or not. Each will get the proper clearance to bypass most protocols, so it should be easy.”
“Of course,” nodding as her gaze returns to him. Her shoulders slumping as she gives a slow blink and a smile.
“Good. Now, I must speak with these two. Go link your devices, and do not let anyone, even the CEO, interrupt until I am done. They’ll understand my need for privacy.”
“Yes, Mister Brooks,” her eyelids lowering as her gaze clouds over for a few seconds. Then she blinks and her eyes widen again, scanning the room.
The Slayer cannot help but notice all of this, keeping his distance when she seems to struggle with something. A hand reaching toward Davoth for just a second when the man takes a step back.
“Thank you,” Davoth says and turns away. “Slayer, John, please come along. The meeting can begin on the ride up,” already walking for the elevator as he motions to follow.
Both marines look at the gawking Chelsea behind the desk, who is asking for answers with raised brows.
But all she says is, “I don’t think we can continue speaking… If that's who you were talking about all this time, I can't do this any more.”
It's John's turn to raise a brow. "What do you mean? That's your new boss? That means my warnings should be way more important now."
“You said he was… a horrible abuser. That is not Mister Brooks. Why did you lie? I’ve known him too long. Nothing you said makes sense. No one has a bad word about that man. Everyone likes him. He is a good guy, and I cannot let you slander him like that.”
“What are you talking about?” now furrowing his brows. “There is no way he could’ve been here longer than us. We’ve only been here a few weeks!”
“Doesn’t matter,” whispers the Slayer, making John shoot a glare. He raises his hands, leaning in to add, “That’s not her. Davoth did something.”
John growls and clenches his fists, telling Chelsea, “Never trust a man so high in the chain. I will not take back a single fact I said. Every word was true.”
“Can’t see it,” she says, turning away.
“Nobody does…”
“You were honest about one thing. He could be brothers with Slayer. Makes me wonder what you twisted around to gain sympathy…”
“Glad you believed that…”
“Something had to be real, right? Isn't that how liars gain your trust.”
“No, I agree, not here to have you killed. I am just a fucking fake. Sorry to waste your time.” John lets his shoulders slump, searching the desk as he blinks. A hand touching his belt when he glances at the Slayer, letting the arm drop at his side.
“Yeah, a bit late for that. Go talk to the boss already.” She spits the words out like rotten food, slapping both men's eardrums with vitriol.
John flinches at the words but doesn’t react like with Davoth. His tone remains relaxed as he says, “Have a good one. Slayer, let’s get going,” walking to the elevator.
The Slayer sighs and stays at his side, not asking about the unnaturally calm air surrounding John as they step into the car. The door closes, trapping them inside. Still not speaking as the lord chuckles.
“So, what do you think of this arrangement?” asks Davoth, grabbing the smaller man’s face to force a shared gaze. “Is this better? No more making up excuses to meet up. Now you can talk to her whenever you come to my office. Is that not what you wanted?”
“No,” he whispers, his entire body motionless as both hands remain at his side, uncurled and limp. “But this is not a surprise. Should be expected at this point.”
“My, you are less stubborn than everyone says. This training is doing some real good.”
“Why are you doing this? What do you gain?”
“Hmmm, I assumed you would be glad I’m not skinning someone alive for Satan. The human is not a threat despite the lack of interest in becoming a follower. Be thankful I can show mercy.”
“That answers nothing.”
“And this whole thing means nothing for my life on this Earth. The promotion changes little for me. No, this is a simple message for you. A friendly reminder to not get distracted by unnecessary relationships. It’s enough that you are by my side. And you are good for the heirs—despite the complaining.”
“So because I can deal with one kid, you did all that? You stuck your nose in my business and fucked with me?”
“This is me hardly trying, John. I put more work into my appearance than I did burning that loose end. Your actions warrant little more than a flick of the finger and a good fuck to keep in line.”
“Glad to hear I am such an easy pet to take care of,” his face showing some annoyance now.
“Hmmm, I suppose that is the case. You were rescued like a runt pushed out of the nest, and only fed because the breeder feeds my children. Also, you follow him around similar to a mutt, while he has fun with his hobby.”
“Are you fucking with me again?” a slight clench of his hand having the Slayer grab an arm. The man letting it happen as he glares at the lord with enough hatred to burn down an entire city.
Davoth smiles, turning to his warrior now. “Ah, good, you still want this toy to behave. Then you can keep him calm during this child’s first examination. It’s about time we see how my heir is developing, don’t you agree?” cupping the warrior’s chin to pull closer.
The Slayer plays along, letting John go to be embraced, the lord's arms encircling his waist. In a low voice, answering, “Not here… please. Too small. Car is too tight.”
“I would never let others touch you without permission. Such an occasion is for me to savor. I got a nice office just for this special moment. Far easier to bring you there. And an easy alternative to the palace, for whatever reason that arises.” As he speaks, a hand slips down to cup an ass cheek, pinching the soft flesh. “It is a shame I cannot have you as often anymore. You are a work of art when with child. The farther along, the better.”
“What if someone gets on and interrupts?” clutching the arm that was now moving toward his belt. The fingertips brushing over the leather to make his pulse jump. “Please, Davoth, I did not cause any trouble.”
“Don’t worry, no one can come on once the doors shut. It’s a fun little security measure for those with high enough clearance. You were all mine from the second you stepped inside.”
“Because you are COO? Is that an actual position?”
“Yes, it is. For whatever reason,” rolling his eyes before glancing at the screen on the wall. “So I must deal with the daily operations and ensure all the people below me have everything they need. A fitting role for a ruler, don’t you agree? A real leader ensures every part of an operation is functional to the smallest piece.” The hand leaves the Slayer’s ass as he speaks, finding a better resting place on the small of the warrior’s back.
“Why not higher?”
“The CEO was a useful follower as to give me the role... After we used the last one as a sacrifice. Far easier to explain the COO getting mauled to death by a polar bear than him. Shame both had to perish. The creature was a fun thing to show Baal.”
“Yeah, makes sense,” the arms unfurling for him to step back.
“I thought so.”
The ding of a bell shows their stop, the door sliding open to reveal a brightly-lit lobby. Walking past a circle desk and a line of chairs, they walk into an office with a desk far bigger than Kelly’s and decorated with fewer papers. A large screen on the wall behind the tall leather chair, on either side sits awards and stone tablets on towering shelves. A statue of a male torso on the other end, it bends as if trying to turn away, the cut-off limbs raised to protect the front. The back turned to the floor-to-ceiling windows that let them look at the rest of the base. The endless maze of buildings and roads before them like a map.
But that is not what grabs the Slayer’s attention while a palm rests on his shoulder. The firm grip forcing him to turn toward Davoth, he’s led to a thin black rectangle etched in the wall by the desk. Only to see the lines reveal a long metal table. The smooth silver top shining under the lights, he says nothing when seeing his reflection on the shined surface. A slight frown shows his acceptance when fingers slide down his back to hook on the belt while a hand undoes the buckle. His pants around his ankles before the watching man can growl his disapproval.
And when he does, the noise gets muffled by an order to lean on the tabletop, Davoth parting the warrior’s ass to play with the rim. A glance over a shoulder, the Slayer receives an annoyed glare when the fingers find their way inside, knuckle deep when he turns back. His forearms on the tabletop for the entire hand to slip inside. In no time, it finds the closed birth canal and sac, stroking the womb through the tunnel walls.
“Slayer?” asks John as he walks over, glancing at the lord before he approaches the table. “What is he doing? What is going on?” worry all over his face as he watches the examination.
“This is fine, normal… Just an exam. Better than robots,” huffing when the fingers palpate the sac and the fetus reacts. “Happens every pregnancy.”
“Are you sure you are okay?”
“Yeah, promise,” groaning when this child moves deep in his guts. A slack jaw and slight quiver telling the lord he felt the baby awaken for its sire. A punch to his intestines telling him the baby wanted to make its father proud and eat.
Said ruler purring as he whispers for it to feast, was growing perfectly. A kick to its vessel's belly making the man groan even louder. Then hiss as more blows to his abdomen make him want to curl up in a dark corner.
“Slayer?" asks John, stepping closer. "Should I do something?”
“This is good enough. Stay here. This really does help.” The Slayer reaches out to take a hand, bending over more when he feels fabric push on his body. Right before the fingers massage his insides and his gut lurches with a sharp pain. His chin forced on the metal surface to have his ass higher in the air. His grip on the gifted hand tightens as he gives a smile—and the other grimaces. An especially harsh squeeze causing the bones to creak as John grits his teeth and lets out a long sigh. The pained smile on his lips not quite fitting for how red his hand is in the crushing grip. The Slayer looking up to apologize when his eyes roll back into his skull and his entire body locks up. The piledrive to his pelvis hurting worse than when he got his head caved in.
Both marines stiffen when the red light of a spell circle shines from the Slayer’s stomach. A palm over the sac makes his spine arch when Davoth puts some weight on top. The soft chanting that comes from his lips tells the bent-over man he has to wait it out. They would be done soon enough if he could remain—
The chant quiets down as the light dies, and Davoth steps back for him to stand up. As the hand leaves, the child calms down, letting the Slayer sink into a pair of waiting arms. A smile in the lord’s voice as he moves to pet his breeder and uses a new word to describe him: ravishing.
The strange term slaps the Slayer as he shudders from the hot breath hitting his neck. The ill-fitting compliment said again as he is yanked upright and redressed. A hand smoothing the clothes as the ruler smiles and kisses his head, repeating the praise a few more times.
The grin that decorates Davoth’s face remains as he leads the marines to a couple of leather armchairs and sits them down. Leaning on the Slayer’s seat, he tells the warrior, “So it would seem my efforts have paid off. Keeping you busy has led to a far better gestation, and you should be showing soon. Which means you will see Doctor Green again. The human should be thrilled to get more records.”
The Slayer raises a brow, turning away. “Why? You examined me.”
“Yes, but you, of all people, should understand the most important rule of breeding. A healthy breeder is a happy, fertile breeder. I only want what’s best for both sides. And that means my brood-boar sees the doctor.”
“Seems excessive. Last two were fine.”
“Maybe, but you get to play technician all day because you do so well. And it is thanks to the heirs John gets to eat, remember? I even overlooked you not talking about my heir’s first feeding because of this. It hardly matters when you forget. I’m sure you had more urgent things to worry about.”
“Never got to. Busy next day. Then Baal was teething… Was more worried about them. Had to stop the screaming and, and, and crying.”
“Yes, I suppose you have a point,” straightening to walk over to John and sit on a chair arm. A one-armed hug for the man when he adds, “Two important developments so close to each other would make anyone overwhelmed and forget who they told the good news. Right, John?”
John nods and says, “Sure, kind of an easy thing to do. Babies make you forget shit, right? Hormones mess up the brain.”
“Hmmm, you seem to know a lot about this.”
“Yeah, let’s not question it. Just paid attention to stuff in school and growing up, okay?”
“I am glad to see you are dedicated to helping with the new heir. Few are such a benefit to have at my call. How much do you think your experience helped my child? Is that what your true role is? Do you desire more, toy?” a finger brushing over the corporal’s throat.
John says nothing, a fist curling at his side which the Slayer spots. The hand unfurled when given a sharp shake of the head.
The man distracted when Davoth kisses him on the cheek, letting a long tongue slip out to find his mouth. The Slayer watches as the ensnared John parts his lips a little, not resisting when he’s pulled closer, and it slips inside for a second.
Right after hearing Davoth whisper, “There we go… Good toy. You are much more fun when you obey. If you were not so fragile, I would have you swollen with a child in no time. Imagine how lovely that would be. An heir in your arms while carrying another… Like the breeder.”
“Yeah, I would rather die,” John spits back.
“That’s easy for a human. Do not mention a debt you do not wish to be paid in full.”
“Give me a reason to call your bluff! I don’t think I’d be the one losing the most here. Not in your eyes. No wait, humans are mere tools, right?”
“Why would I waste a mortal life that has proven itself useful? You are easier to care about than most. More so after you helped deal with Baal’s teeth pain. Do not discard these good graces. Such a gift is worth its weight in gold, diamonds, or anything far more rare.”
“I’ll remember that,” not turning away when receiving another kiss. Or a few more on the head. His face blank when fingers comb his hair and mess up the locks.
The Slayer watches the two interact as this happens, bracing for an outburst any second. A hand gripping a chair arm when Davoth stands and John flinches, the warrior watching for something to go wrong. Refusing to say a word when he sees a flash of red irises and the lord returns to take the warrior's wrist, leading him to the door. A finger traces his face as his lips part, a quick kiss taking advantage of this reaction. The man in return blinking as Davoth pushes a button on a nearby screen and asks for an update. Chelsea answering that a few were waiting in the lobby to speak with him. She is told to wait a minute before letting them in, had a matter to finish.
The lord smiles and ends the connection. “Looks like it is time for you to find some entertainment, Slayer. Be sure to come here during your next break and for Baal’s meal after dinner. I’ll be here for both. Do not wear a belt for either.”
“Yes?”
“I’m not asking. The object disgusts me, and I want one day without seeing such a blight. Understand?”
“Yes,” frowning at the contempt the ruler has for the thing. He planned this whole relocation. The palace was still standing and a lot more free about fashion.
But he cannot say a word when the way opens for a few men in suits to enter. All looking far older than Kelly, they smile and bow once the door is closed, greeting Davoth as he grins. The lord’s eyes once more green as he wraps an arm around the marine’s waist for all to see. The only one with all-white hair steps forward to gaze at the taller pair. A hand reaching for the warrior, Davoth chuckles when he touches a hip with an approving nod.
“What a riveting choice of breeder, David,” the stranger says. “Tell me he is staying for the meeting.”
“Maybe later,” he answers, letting go to touch the older man’s shoulder and turn to the window. “I doubt he is going to be of use at the moment. But I know what you are thinking, and that shall come in good time. My child is sleeping and will get to meet you afterward. Then we can redeem your reward. I’ll even let you keep some for the right price.”
“Ah, I knew you would understand,” now grabbing an ass cheek so the Slayer freezes to the spot. “Call me when they wake up from their nap. I have funds that should cover this project. You only need a few more reactors. Is that correct?”
“How wise of you,” smirking until the old man finds the breeder’s taint and pushes on the spot to earn a sound of discomfort.
The Slayer grits his teeth as he glares at the other men watching with interest. Their eyes widen as they see the fingers force his legs open. One adjusting his tie when he pretends to not notice the angered warrior preparing to teach their boss a lesson. A low growl warning the group as he balls his fists.
These fuckers… What is Davoth doing? Since when do followers get to touch him without permission? Aren’t there rules to this?
The ruler turns back and takes the Slayer’s arm, having the door open as he speaks to the men in a sterner tone than before. “Come, we have more important things to discuss. All of you need to prove yourself for more of a reward.” A pull saving the marine from any more unwanted attention, the lord flashes a glare at the handsy man as the rest shrink away. The target of this ire pouting at the loss of his entertainment when he fixes his tie and walks over to a chair.
And with a shove, the marine stumbles into the lobby to see a few look up with surprise. More than one raised brow having him hurry for the elevator as John hurries to catch up. A tap on the back telling the Slayer to slow down. Which he does, once the haven of the car comes into view, rushing to have the door shut so they may escape to the main floor. Neither speaks as the hum of the machine fills the space. A hand on John’s shoulder allows him to lean in, the odd passive attitude returning as the corporal accepts the gesture. A blank face warning the Slayer this would be another long day.
All he can hope is that it ends without screaming or blood.
A man could dream.
***
“Flashlight,” the Slayer grunts, holding out a hand. The hefty metal body passed over, he shines a light inside the terminal. A growl at the disarray gets muffled by all the parts when he leans in. A few harsh motions shaking the hardware, causing the missing rubber and plastics to become more apparent. His voice growing louder when he yells, “Are you fucking with me?”
“What’s wrong?” asks John, his feet heard as he comes closer to lean on the top. “Is it that bad?”
“Get both kits. Need all the pieces.”
“Are you shitting me?”
“No. It is like vermin live here…”
“Think it’s Timmy? I liked the little toilet rat. So happy to see he's upgraded from the unisex showers.”
“No… Screwdriver, 1/16,” taking it to begin gutting the ninety percent that needed replacement. About halfway done when he finds the problem that had caused this assignment to become priority. A fitting “Fuck me!” bellowed when he sees the first black beetle. A few more coming out when shifting a bundle of wires aside. Only to find several deeper inside. Then the massive nest they created in the pile of rotting food in the back.
Now yanking his head out to spit obscenities at the creatures as he slams the door shut and chucks the tool to the ground. A few more curses for the disgusting things as he pulls out his PDA.
“So, I guess that was not the rat?” asks John.
“No,” opening his email to type a message for every technician. Not in the mood to hold back, he hardly cares about decorum as he threatens to strangle the fucker who thought it was a good idea to piss him off. If he could kill the Khan Maykr and survive a bomb blast, he would love to have a safe stress relief fighting a tech. Hitting send in record time, he hears a few devices beep around him.
“Damn,” mutters the other man as he scans the message. Rolling his eyes when he reads out loud the threat of painting a boot with someone’s spinal fluid. “Isn’t that a bit over the top?”
“I meant every word.”
“Well, at least you promised to not make them unrecognizable. Glad to see you are holding back.”
“I’m not finishing this. What’s next on the list?”
“Uh, there’s the faulty connection a couple of rooms down.”
“Sounds better, let’s go,” about to grab his stuff when he needs to take a seat. Just bending over makes him groan from the effort and pain the simple task brings. His body aches like he had laid on a pile of rocks after only a few items get put away. The man finding it harder to crouch for the smaller tools until John steps in to pick up the mess. A heavy exhale helping to fill his lungs once upright again.
Great. Why is this the first thing that affects him? Not the nausea? At least that was easy to avoid these days.
And why now, of all times?
On his feet, he grabs the toolbox and fixes his pants. The cool air that comes through his t shirt feels wonderful, taking a few soft sighs to enjoy the small comfort as they walk down the hall.
Only to hold his breath when John says, “Hey, tuck in your shirt.”
“But I did...” looking down to see his navel under the rising hem.
“Try tightening your belt? Must be loose.”
“Maybe…” searching for the actual issue while tightening the buckle. A double-check that it would not shift before entering the next room.
The toolbox is open and a few tools are in hand as he bends over to investigate the wiring in the back. Not saying a word when he has to move and the front of his shirt rises. After a quick scan of the place, he kneels and pulls it down. Ignoring the others who stare every time the Slayer does. Any annoyed growls the rest hear blamed on the faulty computer.
He was fine. This problem was probably thanks to a faulty washing machine. The stupid thing must have used the wrong setting. Would need a supervisor to investigate that.
And that is what he answers when John brings it up after they leave. A raised brow at this response, the corporal says nothing to argue, instead asking if he needed a clean shirt. A shake of the head enough to end the conversation while fixing it again.
But by the fourth job, he admits defeat against the ill-fitting top. No longer willing to stay in its proper place, the fabric rebels when he tests the limits of his energy loss. A defeated sigh all he needs to realize that this would never get fixed without getting a new uniform. Though he refuses to tell John that as he stomps back to their room and digs one out, forcing the shirt to conform to his stomach and chest. Next, sucking in the odd bulge that distorts his abs.
Come on… This cannot be the case. He is seeing things, was paranoid. Davoth fucked with his head after the examination last week. He wanted the child to grow, was hoping it would come true if he repeated it enough times.
But when has the lord ever lied about this? And it just happens that today he gains weight? In just his stomach?
The loud ripping of fabric is the final tally against him. The entire bottom torn clean off, it hangs in a hand as his gut pops out, showing the world the baby bump was here. This heir was ready to let everyone know it was developing. A slight bounce of his chest only makes this worse when he sinks onto the bed and punches a wall. The dent was smaller than he wanted, causing the fist to hit over and over. At least until John grabs the arm and yells to stop, would destroy the whole thing like that.
“I won’t,” he snaps, giving the metal a final strike. “Can’t be so big.”
“Hey, come on, that is just some belly fat.” Then adding in a lower voice, “Or that’s what you say, anyway. No one will get mad here. You cannot do my level of training when a tech and pregnant.”
“Don’t want to be. Must go see Doctor Green then. And move soon.”
“You think Sarge was honest about moving when the baby got bigger?”
“Makes the most sense. I’m only good at being… used when so far along.”
“Well, we’ll ignore that bullshit for now. You got a kid in there, and I agree with the bastard. Use this progress to relax, and see the doctor to prevent any issues. Focus on keeping it alive, and I shall do my best to ensure no one touches you.”
“John, I like the sentiment, but…”
“Not leaving you alone. Though I also prefer not getting turned into a zombie. Self-preservation, not entertaining my morbid curiosity, and all that shit.”
“Hate being so weak anywhere. This is not safe.”
“You can punch a hole in the wall. That is—”
“And I cannot fight! If any follower wants to, to, to use me? I am doomed. All are just as bad. Bad as demons!”
“And we have time. You are still ranks above any marine here in strength, and we have awhile before you are too far along to work. These guys are going to leave you alone if you pretend.”
“How do you expect—” getting to his feet when a pain in his stomach explodes, making him double over. A loud groan filling the room when he falls onto the bed and curls into a ball. “Fuck…”
“Oh shit, you doing it again? Should I get a doctor?”
“No…” gritting his teeth as he breathes. This was stronger than last time. His entire torso clenches when hugging his belly. Shoulders shaking while waiting for the fetus to take its fill. Not saying a word when he rolls over and pushes his face into the pillow, a hand resting on his back. Still silent after it subsides, unfurling to look at the baby bump and stand up, digging out the only clothing option.
The orange jumpsuit is far more comfortable than he assumed. While it’s strange to put on this outfit thanks to the lengthy zipper and baggy cut, it does the job just fine. Now he can bend over and not get looks, and the few that remark on the switch are positive. As long as he nods and agrees it was a pleasant change, no one asks too many questions. Both Shawn and Cody are especially pleased, glad that he “fits the culture better”. The Slayer touching his stomach with a nod has each glance at the mound, but neither comment.
However, once the last job is done, and he heads to Kelly’s office, it hardly matters what the rest think. Baal is hungry and latches on before the white top is all the way down, suckling with loud grunts as he reclines in his chair. Both vessel and child close their eyes to bathe in the peace for a moment. This was nice, all things considered. The soft click of a tongue from below is so relaxing. More so when they unlatch and beg for the usual exchange to the Sergeant, leaving him to sit there for a minute.
“You have a doctor's appointment today,” says Kelly after a while.
“Why?” sitting up to glare at the messenger.
“You are showing, which means it has to be done. Davoth does not want to wait to collect data. Baal is a strong heir, and he wants more with greater power.”
“That happened today.”
“Yes, and the orders said that’s when the next checkup was supposed to happen. Do you not pay attention to the records?”
“Never had any before.”
“Guess he wanted those who cared to know. Suppose it wasn’t important for you to worry about that.”
“No, not really.”
The Sergeant shrugs, lifting Baal to make them squeal and giggle. A smile when he replies, “It should be the same as last time. No x-rays or internal.”
“Great,” on his feet without another word. John is already at his side when the door shuts and he stalks off, debating if he should even go. He was exhausted after working all day. Had plenty of reasons to just lay in bed and sleep.
The slight jiggle of his front reminds him of how he wound up in this situation. Running has never ended well for him, did it? Should have killed Orcus instead of leaving the palace for a jog to spite the fucker! That would get him beaten, but would he have been impregnated then? Might have gotten into a fight for all he knew.
He needs to be more realistic...
But in the end, not even heavy feet can override his desire to not wind up in his old bedroom or the throne room with a hungry or angry sire. After what seems like years, he crosses the doorway to the beaming visage of the medic.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite patient,” says Doctor Green as he smiles and his whole face crinkles under the mask. His open arms inviting the warrior to the exam table, he asks, “So, I was told that we are showing? How are we looking today? Do we have any symptoms besides the fetus revealing itself?”
The Slayer grunts and sits on the tabletop, unzipping the jumpsuit to show off the bulge. “Just tired. Nothing else yet. Want to sleep. Be quick.”
The doctor nods and slips on some gloves, his eyes lighting up as he stares at the baby bump. “Hmm, I suppose no matter what happens, we got pillows and blankets. It’s fine if you fall asleep here. That’s why we have all sorts of supplies in the closet. Your friend had a nice nap last time. Maybe you can do that too.”
“I guess...”
“Don’t worry, just a suggestion. Now, I’ll be recording for the father, so recline, and the camera above will get all the important information. Okay?”
“Not like I could say no.”
“Correct, but I have to tell you as per protocol. So, remove those tops, and we can start.”
The Slayer sighs and removes the bra, the jumpsuit pooled around his hips as he lays on his back to stare at the red light overhead. A slow blink inviting the smooth latex and a slight warmth to run over his chest.
This part of the exam was quicker than the previous visit. Doctor Green was not interested in going into every wrinkle and fat fold today. The worst is a few tweaks of the nipple that has milk leak out that the medic wipes away and stuffs into tubes.
The occasional question keeps the Slayer from falling asleep. That and the small twitch in his pants, the man showing his desire to sleep with groans. A low growl his answer when asked if he was eating healthy. The doctor moves on. The fingertips brushing over the soft flesh one last time, he turns to trace over the marine’s stomach with a chuckle.
“Sorry, it’s just a standard question,” Green says, feeling the obliques with slow strokes. The fingers going from top to bottom, they slide down the sides and stop on his hips. Now he notes how the womb has unusual elasticity, which would require more palpating. Next asking the Slayer, “Do you think it will be safe to examine your belly more? This is your pregnancy, and you have an idea about the organ’s limit.”
“Uh...” lifting his head to gaze at the doctor. “That’s fine, can take a blade. Wouldn’t break or anything.”
“That is good news, I assume. Don’t need to worry about you falling down the stairs or walking into a door? No tripping?” A chuckle heard as if he found the questions funny, and not ideas the Slayer would have tried with the first two children.
“Argent-foraged knife can’t. So you won’t.”
“Fair enough,” laughing harder as he walks to a closet and grabs a few pillows. “Now, do not fall asleep and part your legs a little. This shall be interesting, but we should be able to make the procedure work. This shouldn't hurt, so tell me if you notice anything off, alright?”
“Yeah...” the pillows raising his head as he lowers his eyelids.
The first touch is gentle, assuring him of the healer's promise. He doesn’t even care that the man stands between his feet and looks down at him. The next few are equally kind when they press on his belly and he hears a few measurements, Green noting it’s big for the short time frame and lack of striae. But also lacking the form a fetus should have at such an advanced size, too compact for anything human. There is some confusion in his voice, now pressing on all sides with more force. His tone showing worry when he notes there weren’t any hints this was a real baby.
A laugh from the neighboring table has both men look at John. A small smile on his lips, he asks, “Ya sure there is a kid in there? Maybe it was a failure. Don’t you have a pill or hose for that?”
“Somebody is feeding,” replies the Slayer. “Heir was hungry today.”
“Hmmm. Or wanting to leave.”
“Nah, was fine before. No fluid.”
“Might be, but this isn’t human.”
“I thought you had no other symptoms?” asks Doctor Green, looking at both marines. “What do you mean by that? Is this something new?”
“How the baby feeds,” says the Slayer, explaining the phenomenon.
This has the doctor perk up and smile. “Is that why I don’t have any complete food records? Fascinating. We should explore this further...”
“There’s not a lot—”
“No such thing for biological mechanisms. If there is a process, we must understand it from as many branches as possible. For the sake of the heir and you.”
“Kelly said no robots.”
“No, we’re not doing that today. I just want to be more thorough and get a good feel for the fetus. Sound fair to you?”
“Yeah…”
“That’s good. Good, good, good…” wiggling his fingers as he walks to the side of the Slayer. “I love a cooperative patient. This is going to take longer than I had wished, but you can rest and I’ll keep you awake. And that reminds me... There is some candy in the closet too. Anyone want that? I got a few different types ordered.”
The Slayer sighs and says, “Nah, just get started,” turning his head to look at an indifferent John as he grabs a pillow and blanket, then a fistful of some treats. Now looking away to close his eyes once the other marine gets comfortable and pulls out his PDA while sucking on a bright green lollipop. A quiet exhale helping the warrior unwind as light touches seem to show the doctor something, a slow drone of words he did not understand getting recorded. Talks of gestation and inconsistency having him hear white noise when his thoughts wander to more interesting things. The soft strokes over his belly slipping to the back of his mind when he folds both hands over his chest.
This goes on for a while until Doctor Green stops between his legs and rests a hand on his knee. One eye opens to see the man loom over with a smile, the palm sliding to caress a thigh with a quiet chuckle.
“Are we done?” the Slayer asks, bracing to sit up and kick away the odd touches.
“Not quite. It would seem we need to do a little more,” pulling off the gloves as he steps back. “I know you won’t be pleased, but this will involve being on your feet. You do, however, get to lean on the table, which should end this faster.”
“That’s all?” checking on John to see he had put away the PDA to fall asleep again. The Slayer is not surprised by this when he sits up and stretches.
Green smiles and touches an arm to ask before assisting the warrior off the tabletop. The hand moving to pat the Slayer’s spine when he turns around and leans on the metallic surface with a sigh. His full weight seeming to push on the table when the fingers go lower and stroke his side. A kind word about how good he was doing helps him become more comfortable when the motion slows for the other hand to join in. Both sides touched and palpated with praise as he relaxes under the expert touch. A comment about how he is the doctor’s favorite patient because of his great attitude emphasized with a quick rub on his belly. The fingertips tickle his bump when they trace the peak and slide backward to hold a hip. A slow exhale tells the marine to relax when both sides end up in a gentle grip. No reaction as they pull his hips back, so he has to rest his head on the metal when he takes a pillow.
This position was similar to other examinations, having him part his legs to get more comfortable. A hand returning to rub his belly like before, showing the Slayer he was wise with these actions. Green knew what to do. He was a medical professional, after all.
Both hands hold his stomach when the doctor says, “You must be used to this position. Most ask questions by now.”
“Davoth does a similar thing, thing with me. Know what to do.”
“I see. Is this what he does?” having the palms slide up and touch his chest with the nicer warmth of bare skin.
“No… He examines on the inside.”
“Would you let me do the same?”
“Can’t. He likes to do that. No one else is allowed,” shifting as he glances around the room. A quick pinch on his ribs and he jumps, bringing his focus back to the exam table.
“Hmmm, so you are an obedient breeder. Oh well, this is good enough. I’ll make this work for my reward.”
“What?” looking at the doctor with wide eyes. The words are like a switch, causing his heart to pound and limbs to clench. A glance at the ceiling showing the red light on the camera was shut off, sending a chill down his spine.
The Slayer jumps when a hand grabs his breast, squeezing the soft flesh with rough fingers as he moans. Then nearly screams when nails bite into the skin and a hand slaps over his mouth.
“Do not make a goddamn noise,” hisses Green, pulling the nipple down so hard it seems like he wants to tear it clean off.
“What are you doing?” he whispers when he pulls away, reaching behind when both nipples get twisted between fingertips. The hands jolt to a stop as he sprays milk on the table, and his cock jumps to life. The gush of white ending this retaliation before he could even grab the doctor’s throat.
“What’s wrong? I thought you liked this style of care? I made you feel so nice during the last checkup.” The tone is far too kind for what is going on, each word a sickie-sweet ball of fake concern. Coldness emanating from him while pinching the buds. "And after all I did to have us alone... Those sweets are not easy to make and keep a consistent dosage. And the hypnotics I used are not easy to come by, so you better be grateful I want him to wake up."
“Let go—” groaning as more milk spills out.
This gets a fist on the collar, sapping the marine’s energy as he sinks onto the exam table. And allowing the doctor to resume his touches with a chuckle. A more involved exploration of the Slayer’s chest beginning as Green asks, “Was I incorrect in my assumptions? Do you hate this?”
“Stop!” the word struggling to leave his lips as a whisper.
“Oh, you want to continue? My, aren’t you a good patient? I like when one overcomes their pride for the sake of health. Be that mental, or physical,” the groping hands and swollen breasts covered in milk when Green digs in his fingers. “And you are a prime example. Now allow me to finish this, and I will make sure you are happy too.”
“No. Let go.”
“Of course, just stay still, and I can take care of that,” pulling on the nipple to twist and milk the breeder more. A good-sized puddle coating the doctor and Slayer in the sweet, thick liquid.
“Why?”
With a yank of the collar, Green lifts him up and replies, “That is not a stupid question, but it shows how ignorant you are despite this being such a common situation. Take a second to think about that. While you do, I’ll get my reward, and you stay silent. Listen, or the father will be told some horrible news.”
The Slayer tries to resist when a hand finds his cock through the bottom half of the jumpsuit. A tight grip rubs the appearing erection that pokes on the zipper, having it jump again. The slow strokes grind over its outline, having the shaft push on the crotch as it swells.
And with that, the doctor lets go of the collar for him to lean on the table. Too weak from before to resist when his zipper goes all the way down and Green pulls the entire length out. The wet palm wrapping around the head to play with like a well-programmed machine. The other knowing just what to do to have him shudder and grit his teeth.
“Good,” purrs Green as his other hand slides over the marine’s ass. “If you keep quiet, I’ll let you leave with zero problems. Does that seem fair?”
“If not?” trying to sound intimidating until his voice quivers and he gives a quick buck.
The doctor chuckles. “Then you will have only yourself to blame when the tests are inconclusive, and we require a second examination. And who knows how many times I’ll find issues that demand more return visits…”
“Like I would ever—”
“Stop pretending you get a choice.”
“I could kill—”
“Sure you can,” going faster to cut off any more threats or protests as the slit leaks and the fist gets coated with the clear liquid.
The Slayer snaps his mouth shut, as he knows is the only smart option. Fighting to stay quiet as he leans on the table once more and bites his forearm. Biting down harder to prevent a moan when he learns why the doctor had a hand so close to his ass. Green does not even bother to ask about the next step when a couple of fingers plow inside. The digits keeping time with the tight fist to leave him stunned and stiff for absolute dominance. The marine is unable, and unwilling, to move when he drips onto the floor and his knees shake like he was in the middle of a quake. Breathing hard and leaking faster as he hopes nobody walks in. Or awakens to intervene…
What would happen if he did? Would John maintain the same level of self-control as the last visit? Would a stranger not take whatever they wanted upon seeing this?
He knows the answer to both.
The Slayer wants to scream. His lips twisting as he refuses to create a scene. Throat clenched as he almost yells for this to stop.
Green leans in closer and removes the fist from his cock to find a breast. The hand once more groping his chest like a wild beast in the height of heat. The fingers deep in his hole going faster to match the energy of the ones on his sore tit.
And the child decides to be a glutton today. A nice punch to the guts having him moan as the doctor looks at him. A quick pull away having Green ask what is happening. A low groan of pain having the smaller man correctly guess the feeding as the Slayer rubs his belly, hissing at the fetus to hurry up as his body becomes a fucking wreck. The pain and pleasure making his skin heat up like he was standing on top of a lava flow. His cock twitching as he begs for his tormentor to let it stop. A sob muffled by his forearm when the feeding is quick, the one before keeping the child from taking more.
And all he can do is let out sharp breaths to show what this does to him. His head feels light and he struggles to stay upright when drained. A sudden spin of the world has him groan. He slides down, and Green steps aside to watch him land on his ass and slump over. On his side until the other laughs and lies him on his back with a rough push.
“You do not know how fucking erotic this is,” hisses the doctor, pulling down the jumpsuit to resume his violation by playing with the Slayer's thighs. “There is something magical about seeing you, of all the people on Earth, growing a child. Cannot stay away from a good womb. Can’t help it. The sight of a nice round belly? And carrying a new life? You are, my wonderful breeder, an exceptional prize.”
The Slayer says nothing as he recoils at this confession, turning to not look at the hungry stare of the doctor as both hands find his cock and hole again. The deceptive façade the user had worn is gone; erased from his mind as the marine wonders why he came here. Once more he hates this weakness as the other watches, the smile seen in the crinkles around his eyes. The hands keeping the same pace as the doctor’s breathing becomes quicker.
Of all the shit to affect him first, this fatigue had to be planned by Davoth somehow. He had no way to know how, but the fucking sire had to have willed it with his tricks. The Slayer grows more and more angry as he thinks about it, wanting to wrap his hands around the one who knocked him up with his true strength.
He was tired of this. Can’t he have a day of peace?
The breeder wants to sob when the rage gets blown away by an explosion of white, his mind blank. A jolt has him giving a full-body spasm when something warm hits his torso. Limbs clenching as more flies on his face. His head reeling as he cannot stop and unravels on the ground. Breathing hard to catch up for holding his breath so long. Crossed eyes stare at the ceiling until the room stops spinning, and he can sit up to see Green walk toward the door. A growl of anger only makes this user exit without a word. Leaving the Slayer in the mess the other had created. Alone and confused, he stands with a groan and turns to check if John is still asleep. His face paling when he sees a pair of green eyes staring at him.
A quick blink from the corporal shows he has awakened, once more stirred from slumber. The candy's effects gone as he seems to realize what he is looking at.
A chill goes down the Slayer's spine when John bolts upright and throws off the covers. In record time on his feet to hurry over and ask, “Slayer, what happened? Are you okay? Where is Doctor Green?” The man looks the warrior over, touching a cheek before he stares at the swollen red breasts and bruised stomach.
“Had to go. Said he would do tests later.”
“Where is he?”
“What?”
“Where is the guy? Where is the motherfucker so I can deal with him?” glancing at the door before he pulls out his gun. “I will kill him. You have no reason to stop me. So say where the shitstain slinked off to!”
“Not now,” shaking his head as he turns to grab the white top, a sudden wave of fatigue having him sway. Leaning on the exam table, he explains, “Need to sleep. So late. Cannot stay here. Want rest.”
John lowers the pistol and walks over, helping the Slayer sit on the floor. “Are you sure? I should do something about this. He doesn’t deserve to be breathing right now.”
“And I don’t choose to. Can’t come back here. Not so soon. What if the replacement… is worse?”
"Why are you—"
"No, John! I can't... What if Davoth..."
“If that’s what you wish, let me help. I can book a private room. It locks, and you get an actual bed. There’s one nearby for special patients.”
The Slayer nods, pulling up his jumpsuit before getting some assistance standing up. Not letting go of the hand when he is made to wrap an arm around John’s shoulders. The warrior using the man as a shaky crutch to walk down the hall to a small room, they flop on a bed way bigger than the tiny mattresses they had endured before. The Slayer is about half on when he drags himself the rest of the way. Under the blanket to close his eyes without unzipping the uniform. Far too exhausted to even ask where the other bed was when he gets comfy.
Besides, the answer comes soon enough. A smaller weight settles on his body as he smiles and rolls his head on the pillow. An arm tucked between his belly and chest, the other marine is already snoring. With a smile, the Slayer joins him. Fast asleep before he can let reality sink in.
That was a matter for the men to worry about in the morning...
Notes:
Oh, dear... What have I done to our marines this time? And what will I do to them next? How long can two unarmed marines survive in the Titan Realm? Why can't we ride the bigger demons like mounts in the game, even for just a section of a level?
All of these are burning questions that we must ask ourselves, but I can only answer the first three next time. But other than that, remind me to stop letting kits sleep on my keyboard when I want to type (no matter how cute they look).
Chapter 11: A Good Reason To Live Is An Excellent Reason To Die
Summary:
When pushed into a corner, toys often break in some strange and unexpected ways. When this happens, they must go in for repairs. But even the most broken of toys knows their duties come first. After all, what kind of plaything dares to abandon their child, especially when they have plans for the little darling...
Notes:
Just warning that things get a bit bloody towards the second half, but nothing more than extreme than anything before.
I am not interested in debating the suicidal thoughts/actions, but if you have questions, I will be okay to answer anything confusing. I tried to be clear with the logic/trains of thought, but I am not perfect and care to know if any parts require clarification.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
John sits in the same chair he does every day, hearing the same noise of the same hungry bastard suckling from the same goddamn teat. The same fucking torture repeating once more as he tents his fingers and leans forward to stare at the floor. This horror of routine erasing his mental stability.
He could not keep doing this. Not if he wanted to see any semblance of peace. How much longer could he continue this life? He was not meant to deal with such terrors.
A terrorist organization on the war path was something he could face. But this? What person could live like this and stay sane? What kind of human would endure this? And how long should he wait to act? What were his options anymore? How many days until he becomes more drastic?
No, he isn't ready for that yet... Needed better weapons first.
He looks up when Sarge reclines in his chair, seeing the superior give a smile as he watches Baal with the same admiration he always held for the child. No amount of snorting or grunting dimming the sparkle in his eyes as he watches. The light even brighter when he tells the marines, “Tests are done. It would seem Davoth is happy with the numbers and believes this arrangement is working. I also was told to say that if you continue with these results, he’ll reward you both.”
While the Slayer nods and leans back in his chair, John crosses his arms, showing his unimpressed mood with a frown. The corporal knew how little that promise meant for him, now regretting those previous actions in the palace during feeding time. Maybe he should have let the brat cry it out in the office instead…
“What’s wrong, marine?” asks Sarge, sitting up to look at John better. “You should be thankful for this wonderful news. I’m certain you need all the good graces you can earn.”
“I have nothing to say about it, sir.”
“And every day, I wonder why I didn’t get to keep a different, more disciplined man alive. The venerable lord must have a clue because I do not.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
“If you want to be funny, you might as well stop right there,” raising his voice while pointing a finger at the scowling subordinate. “You do not have the proper rank to—”
John interrupts as he gets to his feet. “Oh no, I am serious.”
“Sit down. Now you are just being stupid.”
“Says the man who surrendered his honor to serve that piece of shit! Don't act like I don't know why Davoth gave me to you. You do not get to talk about my attitude, you sick fuck! You got off on it! Nothing you say is worth the shit on my boot.”
"So what? I very much enjoyed seeing you want to cooperate with a superior for once. If that is what it takes to put you in line, then I can ask Davoth about making this far more consistent. Maybe then the lessons might stick when you aren't using the circle..."
"You are a dead man!"
“And I outrank you enough to make your life a living hell. Remember what I can do to you. Even without using the circle.”
“Try me. That taste of the palace life must have felt great to sink so low.”
The Sergeant opens his mouth to reply when a shrill whine steals his attention, both men turning to see Baal grow anxious. Another sound causes the older man to stand while the Slayer works to comfort the child, whispering to calm down. A glance at the staring pair makes the warrior rub their back as they wriggle and bite, and he tells them to stop while doing his best to keep some control. A groan provoking them to scream and attempt to free themselves while he tightens his grip. Sarge rushes over to take Baal, already doing a better job at calming them down with a slow rock in his chair, mumbling soft words to quiet the whimpers.
Another groan makes John stare at the Slayer as he hunches over, gritting his teeth. And like every time before, the corporal goes over and does his best to watch over, knowing he cannot do a damn thing to offer support. A hand reaches out when the bigger marine holds his stomach and breathes through the pain, hovering nearby for whatever reason. None coming up yet. Only there to stand by for the feeding to end, so he could sit down and not say a word. There was nothing that would help this situation, no matter how many times it happened. A growing pattern with most things that revolve around this man…
But instead of silently waiting out his time in the office, he stiffens as Sarge smiles and begins cooing the child. In a playful voice asking if they want to sleep or play. The start of a smile from Baal as they snort and grab his hand, yelling something that sounds like a loud “Yes”.
The Slayer gets up from his chair and John swears he hears the man whisper, “Oh no…”
“What’s that?” Sarge asks the heir. “Are you learning your first word? Is that it? Are we going to be babbling and hopping around soon?”
“No, Uncle Kelly!” Baal yells, their voice gruff and high pitched, sounding way too much like a toddler when they speak. “See, I can talk!” bouncing in his arms as the man glances at the two marines with utter shock.
Then he looks at the child again, blinking a few times before he asks an important question. “When did you learn to do that, Baal?” asked with the right amount of confusion.
“Daddy taught me when in Hell. I don’t know when. But he said I can talk now, so I am.”
“Why did you wait?” laughing as he nods, acting like what Baal claimed was a reasonable answer. “I would have loved to chat sooner.”
“I’m hungry,” not bothering to acknowledge the question.
“So hold on,” says John. “You learned to talk one day and now speak like a kid in school?”
“Yeah, they do that,” replies the Slayer as he takes back the heir. “Know human and Hell. Don’t question it. Easier to just accept. This is for our benefit.”
“Right…” raising a brow as he wonders if he should be worried or relieved about the heir’s sudden speaking ability.
“Yep,” squeaks Baal, as they get picked up and look at John with a big grin. “Daddy says me and Bel do that because we are royal. So I can speak to papa and demons.”
“I should be able to live with that, kid.”
“My name is Baal,” pouting at the title.
“Yes, and I guess you get to learn the fun concept of nicknames soon. Right, papa?” glancing at the Slayer.
Who sighs and tells the child, “Eat and talk after. Daddy will explain it later.”
“He is cranky,” is all Baal says before they latch on and go back to feeding like before. Snorts and tongue clicks returning to tell the rest there would be peace for a bit. The room growing quiet as the men examine them. The pair from Earth taking quick glances at the undisturbed warrior the kid was glued to.
There is no way this cannot be a trick. What kind of anything learns two different languages and speaks both well before they get weaned? What in the actual Hell are they eating?
John tries to sort through his limited understanding of this but ends up scratching his head. The best answer is a good spell circle or the Slayer having some great milk in there. Which are not subjects he wants to ask about for further details. Plus, Davoth would find some way to suggest knocking him up. Ever since he brought it up in his private office, he mentioned it whenever he was sick of the corporal. The question was getting old when there were no teeth behind it. Or so he assumes. The statement he wasn’t fit for the job could be a lie or a genuine excuse—both are equally possible.
A grunt has him look at Baal as they announce they have no interest in taking a nap today. Instead of curling up and falling asleep after the meal, they have elected to wriggle out of the Slayer’s arms and slide down his leg onto the ground. The landing a little shaky, they hang on tight and plant their hooves with a snort and squeal. Looking up at the watching adults with a grin, Sarge and Slayer motion them to try walking.
Their first step has them turn and face the desk with shaking legs, bracing for the next one to go forward. A few more with support draw them away from the bigger man and toward the open floor. Dark eyes gazing at the expanse with determination and a raised hand.
Only to end the journey abruptly when they swing their arms and fall to the ground. A shocked cry begging for someone to pick them up.
Kelly answers the call as he rushes around and brings them to his chair, while the Slayer walks over to watch. The kid back on their feet, they cling to the older man and tap both hooves on the floor. A few words that are not even close to English cause zero reactions from the adults.
The Sergeant instead pats their head and says, “Practice some more. This is just a small step to learning to fight like a general.”
“No!” they grunt and stomp. “I am not Bel, stronger than them. Gonna learn faster than them.”
“Yes, you will figure it out one day, but at your own pace. You and your sibling are unique. They were walking before they talked, which is the opposite of you. And that is an important thing to remember.”
“Is it?”
“I would say so. No matter what is true, fighting reality won't help you. Learning anything is a skill that nobody can master for you. That kind of attitude is how you end up with lazy fighters and failures on the battlefield.”
“Okay…” getting picked up and sat on the desk, peering over a shoulder at the marines. The long neck letting their head do a full 180 to watch with black voids and a smile.
This sight should freak the corporal out more than it does. The impossible-to-deflect stare steadfast as John stands up and walks over, hands on the edge of the desk to look at them. The child staring at his blank expression when he asks a question.
“So, we’ve given up on naps?”
“Yep, I’m not tired. Daddy says I don’t have to. But gotta stay with papa until I do.”
“Hmmm, interesting. Got a better deal than me as a kid. Always had to have an afternoon nap to get out of my parents’ hair.”
“Why were you in that?”
“Ah, the joys of learning an expression. I like this new ability. We’ll go over some fun ones later, little royal.”
“Marine…” growls Sarge, crossing his arms. “I forbid you from teaching anything that they cannot understand. You know what that means, so don’t get creative. And do not try using a loophole, or you will be in the waste facility before they can tell their father.”
John smiles and scratches Baal’s tusk, getting them to snort and lean closer. “Sir, that was not the plan at all. I was going to teach the kid how to swear. This is not the place to be lacking in such an important and priceless skill.”
“You damn well—you know that is what I said not to do, marine.”
Baal blinks and grabs John’s finger, looking at Sarge with a grin. “I already learned those words, Uncle Kelly. Why wouldn’t I?”
“I got raised differently.”
“Were your parents shit at teaching?”
“No, not at all. People don’t always do things the same way.”
“Oh, okay,” scratching a tusk as they turn to John. “Do you have parents like that, toy?”
“My name is John,” leaning forward to show a disapproving frown. “Even your father uses that one.”
“Then why does he call you papa’s fun toy all the time?”
"Because—"
"And that you are easy to use? I asked and he said you are like pushing buttons in a video game. And easy to play with. Like when he kisses you like papa."
“Because…” pausing as he gets a temptation. The odd intrusive thought that enters his mind so close to being verbalized. He could just tell the heir the truth and piss off the person who would kill him in seconds. It would be so easy... The words are right on his tongue when he stops and looks at his feet for a second. He really was what the kid said.
Why was he here? What was the point of this after he had fallen so far? He once was part of something bigger than himself. Now he was a fucking thing to pose and pound for others' fun. What was he doing? When did he grab the devil's hand and decide to dance without thinking about it? Why didn't he just fucking die on Mars like everyone else?
Who was stopping him from changing things now? What was being lost here, except the torture?
There is a beep as Sarge’s PDA goes off, snapping John out of his train of thought. A glance around the room, he sees the Slayer look at him with concern, asking if he was okay with raised brows. He turns away, not in the mood to answer. Or say what fills his mind when he touches his pistol, running a fingertip over the trigger.
It would really be that easy... What are the chances he would be interrupted this time? Who could stop him? Not the Slayer...
No, he was a plaything to this brat. He had to do this the right way. Can't have them ruining his plan by being so obvious. What if papa tried to stop him and clouded his mind? A toy had to make this fun.
Baal, and in turn John, turns to the Sergeant when he stands up and tells the kid to behave. He would come back after he grabbed something. Adds that they would go to Davoth’s office when he returned, a few officials wanted to visit. Baal nods and waves him off, making John smile once the door is closed, the light by the doorway turning red.
Once he is sure the other would not return, he picks up the kid and asks, “Want to learn why Daddy calls me a toy? And what I can do for you?”
“Why? What?”
Looking at the Slayer, he sees the man blink and close his eyes, leaning back as he looks ready to sleep. Now saying, “Because you play games with toys,” noting how the other marine squints before he rests his head in a hand.
Baal nods and grabs a shirt sleeve. “I know that. What games do you play? Can you play video games?”
“Well, I can do that, but I have so many abilities I can also do. Today I had an idea. Something that might let you see the world.”
“How?”
“That depends…” seeing the Slayer looking at both with heavy eyelids. “Slayer, do you need to sleep?”
“No, I cannot do that. Baal is awake. Tell me when you start. Will follow.”
“Are you sure?”
“You would do everything… But I should watch.”
“Just close your eyes. I’ll wake you when I finish explaining the rules. Should be quick.”
“Yeah…” accepting the promise as he stands up, sits in the Sergeant’s chair, and begins snoring before John can say goodnight. Face down on the desk while a hand rests on either side.
“Fuck, that was quick…” he whispers, smiling as he walks to the other side of the room. As far from the Slayer as possible, he sits by a line of hunting pictures, each photograph showing Sarge posed with several large prey animals. Baal sat in his lap, John scratches a tusk for a minute and asks, “So, how much do you know about tag?”
“Know how to play.”
“Good, this should be easy to explain. This game is a little similar, but a lot more enjoyable. Instead of one person chasing a few other people, we are chased by a bunch of demons.”
“That’s not tag.”
“No, but that is the best part because everybody gets to have way more fun. You understand how Daddy wants to protect and make you a great leader, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And how he would do anything to ensure this happens?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I made a game to let him prove this and play with you.”
“Really? What?”
“Why do you think he said to stay here until nap time? We do stuff like this.”
“Okay. What are we doing?”
“Well, he is going to chase us with a swarm of demons, while we do everything possible to not get caught. The farther we go, the more he must do to catch up. But the more he sends, the more he loves you.”
“But Daddy always says to not interrupt him when with papa.”
“That’s the best part. Daddy will summon more as he works, so he can play indirectly. Like when he played with you during the meeting at the palace. Remember that? After we helped with the tooth problem?”
“A little. And he liked this game? He didn’t talk about it before.”
“That is because I wanted this to be a surprise. He did not want his love to seem unimportant by getting a warning. That is the point of games like this. You make things way more fun by figuring out the strategy as you play. If you plan everything out, the entire thing becomes confusing,” giving a dismissive wave.
“Why?”
“Because the game teaches you to think quick while fighting. It is essential to possess this skill as a great fighter, just like Uncle Kelly said. You must learn this or lose all the time. Like if the enemy has some good tricks and has you cornered. Have to be smart to escape the trap.”
“Can we go? Do I help you or Daddy? What do I do?”
“You help us. Do whatever you want. That way, you prove how powerful you are and enjoy playtime more. If I remember right, you call demons to serve? Maybe we can have fun with this ability. Just say when to begin. This is your first time, so I will give some advice as the game gets harder.”
“Okay! I wanna have Daddy send so many. Like a billion! And titans, and dark lords… And the hell priests!”
“There we go…” smiling as he sees the Slayer sleeping despite the excited squeal Baal makes as they babble about what some drag guy could do.
This was too easy… but still better than his original plan. Too many ways to make that survivable. He cannot leave a body at all.
John smiles and leans back, letting the kid get themselves worked up into a frenzy as they swing their legs. A hand on a tusk as they ask if he wants to ride a gargoyle or a titan. The man chuckles as he says the second sounds more fun and pats their head; Baal beams as they lean on his chest, purring into his shirt.
Then the child pulls away and stands on his lap. In a fast voice asking, “Should we wait for Uncle Kelly? He might get back soon.”
“Hmmm, I’m not sure. He is quite busy and doing something for Daddy. Do you want to wait that long?”
“No… He can play in the next game! Then I could show him, and he will know how great we are.”
“That’s the spirit, kid. That is how you impress an adult! Now, should we wake up papa?”
“Yeah!” opening their mouth to let out a loud sound like a malfunctioning machine. The death rattles of the nonexistent hunk of wires and metal having the Slayer bolt upright with a yell, on his feet in seconds.
His eyelids lowering when he sees the source of the noise and stretches with a growl. A glare at the marine holding the alarm, John apologizes for the rude awakening and walks over.
“I guess you are ready?” the Slayer asks Baal. “What are you playing?”
“Yep. Toy said we could play not-tag. Now we can call Daddy.”
“What?” looking at a grinning John. “What does that mean?”
Ignoring the other man, the corporal raises a more pressing question. “So, Baal, where should we go? I think a place in Hell is better than on base this time around. More familiar.”
“Yeah!”
The Slayer interjects. “No, we are not! Davoth is not—”
“I wanna play now!” lifting a fist so a portal opens at their feet. The low growl of a colossal beast coming from the other side. The heir smiles as a massive pair of horns and a red skull burst through to look John in the eye. Large green eyes burrow into their souls as it growls, and Baal speaks with chirps and quick clicks. An apathetic wave seeming to dismiss the beast. The demon opens its mouth to reply, then sinks back down as the doorway remains.
The Slayer glares at the two that started this and asks, “Baal, what is going—”
“Let’s go, toy, papa!” a tiny finger pointing to the portal for John to drop through and land on a tall pile of sand.
A quick slide down has John look around and discover they float on a rock. This one just big enough to hold a few standing adults, it is attached by a chain to a significantly larger stone island high above. Upon closer inspection seeing that a towering building can be seen carved into the bigger formation. A gaze at the skies above to an unending sea of rust-red clouds, he looks around to see more small islands not too far from here. They should be able to reach them if they get a good start and fall a little.
A grunt has him turn to a pissed-off Slayer on top of the sand mound. The portal closes behind the warrior, his fists clenched and teeth grinding so hard they might crack any second. He speaks with a voice low and loaded with repressed anger. A glare twists his face into a mask of pure rage, letting out a growl when he asks, “John, what the fuck did you do? Why are we in Hell!”
The target of the Slayer's ire shrugs, doing his best to maintain an air of indifference. “Like I said, I’m here to play games with this royal treasure,” smiling as he scratches a tusk. “And if that means seeing what Daddy would do if the kid went on a surprise trip to a lava pit or crossed a burning lake? Well, I am not one to say no to that.”
“Yeah!” adds Baal. “We’re gonna have the titans after us.”
“Are you fucking stupid, John?” bellows the Slayer, in a blink, grabbing the corporal by the collar. “That is a suicide mission. You will die. There won’t even, even be bloodstains.”
"So what? You don't have to play if you don't want to. Just leave right now if you are so against this."
"Not without the kid."
"Too bad, they want to have some fun."
"Does death sound that good?"
“It is worth the risk of dying,” shrugging off the words as he pulls free of the grip. “And I want to teach the bastard a lesson. Slayer, you have given up, and I love you so much. But I cannot keep doing this! Maybe you’ll see that even a man who thinks he is a god has something to fear. Then you can also escape and make this all worth the effort. If not, at least two of us get what we want.”
“What?” blinking at this revelation. His voice losing some of its rage as he asks, “Why would I fight then? What would be the point? If you love me…”
“No. This is my choice. If I think this is the right decision, you do not get to stop me. I can't live this life. Not like you,” turning away to not see the other marine’s despair as he sprints across the rock. At the edge he springs off, falling onto a bigger boulder as the Slayer is right behind. John is already planning the next move as he discovers the ugliest flying balls of mutated red meat he has seen. A smile on his face when he knew this had to be a good sign.
The trio soon finds the end of this cluster of rocks. The next place they could go far below in a cave on the side of a tall mountain. A finger points to the entrance. Baal nods and creates another portal to see a swarm of imps further down the tunnel. Their glowing eyes widening as John whips out his pistol. A foot through the doorway when he slings the kid on his back and pulls the trigger. A few creatures fall as the rest scream a high-pitched battle cry. Bullets ripping through the air to send the frontline flying when both sides charge. John smiling as he sidesteps a fireball and puts a shot between the demon's eyes. A few more downing those that take its place.
Then the place shakes and a red ring expands behind the group. The man sliding to a halt while gunning the creatures that continue their charge. More hitting the ground when the new portal opens for a black demon with an eyeless white skull to appear. The hulking beast roaring as it charges through the mob. Baal yelling to get out of the way.
John is about to ask why when he hears the yell of a much bigger creature. A blur of crimson and a green flame shoots toward the hostile gathering when John presses against the wall. Both colors hit the lesser demons to send them flying in all directions. Those who survive screaming as a far more dangerous monster barrels through the mob. The black beast is the least affected when it slides backward and focuses on the new target, jumping right for the throat.
Only to get grabbed and slammed to the ground. Several times. The limp body dangling in a fist before the red one—baron, was it?—rips off the head and growls, shoving the corpse into its mouth. Then it looks at Baal and grunts, stomping forward as it reaches for the child. Stopping when footsteps storm down the hall, a deep bellow echoing in the tunnel.
John and Baal look over their shoulders, an enraged, ire-fueled marine filling their view. The Slayer drops to the ground and slides under the baron, grabbing the two under his watch. Breathing hard as he holds them close and yells they are not dying yet. Back on his feet before the demon can react. Now running at full speed as the bigger man huffs and the world blurs around them.
“Hey, slow down! It’s just a game, papa,” squeals Baal. Then laughing as they open a portal to another area with crude windows that let them see Hell outside. A swarm of various flying monsters rushing toward the trio, they say, “Nevermind. Faster, there’s more. Daddy is fast.”
“What are you talking about?” the Slayer asks as he runs past piles of skulls and flames shooting up from the fissures in the floor.
“John said this will prove how much Daddy loves me.”
“How?”
“The more demons he sends, the more he loves me.”
“Again, how?”
Baal is about to answer when Davoth seems to shake the entire realm with his voice, calling to every demon in Hell. Announcing to all under his command, “Do not let them escape! They cannot leave this world with my heir! STOP THEM!”
“John, I swear!” yells the fleeing marine as he jumps down a cliff side, dropping from one ledge to the next. The last bit of rock used to spring forward and land in a valley. Still huffing, he adds, “You will die. By my hand.”
“Don’t waste your energy.”
"Yeah!" yells Baal. "Don't get tired. If you sleep, you can't play anymore."
The Slayer growls but finds a tunnel nearby, hiding in a small nook away from the green torches inside. John standing watch, he waits with a smile as he asks the kid what they think of this so far. The biggest grin spreads across their face when they say how many cacodemons are out there. Says there are more creatures they wanted to see. The man showing interest as he learns about a few that are indeed impressive. Not at all commenting on how many of them would easily flay his corpse and call it a mercy kill. Or showing how bad his hands have started to shake when gripping his gun tighter.
It's too late now. Either he runs and hides, or forces the lord to work for it. The order had been sent, and he would have to deal with the consequences no matter what he does. Might as well spit on the damned lord's face first.
And it seems he would have to choose his end right now. Ears perked and weapon raised when he hears a familiar creature approach. The choice made for him when a fist wraps around his wrist. The hisses and moans of zombies and unwilling spurring the Slayer to run as the ground quakes and a fireball almost hits the men. All three rush the other way for safer lands as the marines keep pace with each other, John laughing as he points it out. The other glaring when he says a lot of prey is faster than most of its predators, now looking over a shoulder when he yells and drops to the dirt.
A bright streak has John jump to the side, chest pressed against a boulder. Only to hit the floor as a red wave of energy slices the air, seeing it strike a rock. The loud scream of a flying demon comes from where the original streak ends, its gray form towering and hideously elegant when it lifts long lanky arms. Curved hands glow above its head, the limbs opening a door for more demons to appear.
Baal raises a hand to do the same. A grunt for the demon as they fall from orange sands to the bleak storms of a far more deathly place. All around tall stone cliffs and black clouds, the lands here are the nightmarish vision he had imagined this world to be. The stones cold and oozing with the bite of unseen death—far more fitting of a name like Hell than the palace could ever be. This location feeling more frigid and dreary when John sees the dark mountains in the distance as thunder roars from their black peaks. The child points to what looks like a monster’s skull, the eyes looking to the heavens, its stony mouth open in a silent scream. A petrified tree looms above the hill's horns, bent and curled like a clawed hand.
This is where Baal points their caretakers. With a grunt, they give an order to head that way, a good place to find demons and see more of the land. John quirks a brow at the suggestion, but the heir acts confident and tells him to head toward the corpse cave. Neither man show any confidence in this choice, but there is nowhere else to go. And it wasn’t moving yet…
“We must go through the body. There are a lot of tunnels in there,” they say, pointing to the gaping jaws as they run for the entrance. “This is where Daddy took me for a lesson. He called it the Titan’s Realm. A bad man came here to kill demons and did that. Daddy's helpers made this demon to stop the evil fighter, but he was really mad and killed it. Daddy said it was huge too, so the jerk was very angry.”
“Say what you will,” says John, “but you must admit, they know how to fight. If you meet them, learn something if you can.”
“Why? They’re bad.”
“Yeah, but I’d want some tips,” sliding to a stop by the sudden drop at the creature’s throat. Looking down the long tunnel, he doesn’t see the Slayer grab his waist. Or stop himself from getting tucked under an arm to land in a pool of red liquid in its guts. Telling the kid when the Slayer keeps walking, “If they can kill something that big, they must be a master of fighting.”
The three look at the stone stairs across the way, the warrior taking quick steps to higher ground through the thick red pool under his feet. The echo of drops from high above draws their gazes to a strange frame that spans the roof, the rock shaped like ribs. Then John remembers Baal said this was once alive, which only adds to the questions. A slight chill at the ghastly shelter as he scans the area.
A hiss brings their attention to the throat as the Slayer whips his head around. With a growl, John is placed back on his feet and told to keep running, a mass of creatures appearing overhead. Every exit cut off when they look behind on the stairs as they climb, the unmistakable red of barons coming into view. Countless glowing green eyes reveal their hiding spots as they stomp out from the shadows. The men already at the top when more demons swarm from the great beast’s maw, as if the rotting titan was consuming the damned things. Red streaks splash in the water and spiral across the ceiling. The entire region seeming to quake from the anger of Hell’s ruler when he screams more orders to his citizens.
The fallen beast rumbling as if it was waking up when Davoth shouts, “Do not let them escape! Failure is not allowed. BRING THEM TO ME!”
The words throw the demons into a frenzy as the flying ones speed up, the entire roof alight as more rain down. The mob on the ground rushing forward to make room as more arrive to hunt them down.
Baal bounces on John’s back, yelling to the men, “GO?”
John yells, "No—"
“Yes,” screams the Slayer as a floating ball of spikes opens its mouth. A black void between its jaws revealing a purple orb of energy.
The steps disappear from under their feet, the three falling onto a stone path as the doorway shuts. Their portal gone to slice off a gray claw. The digit lands at their feet, burning away on the lone stone path they can use.
With no other options, the men continue deeper into what appears to be a flooded cave. But instead of water like before, there instead is a pool of lava bubbling on either side. The river of the molten earth pointing the way, the three follow the only path out.
The child wriggles as they squeal and grunt, hugging John’s neck. With a snort, they ask their caregivers, “Did you count how many there were? There had to be like a million, million, million. What does that mean?”
“Well,” says John, “he gives a damn, that’s for sure.”
“I didn’t see an alive titan. Is that bad?”
“No, not at all. We can’t do it all the first time. Then there is no thrill when you play again. Besides, maybe we’ll find some during the next game. Like if we beat today’s record...”
“Hope so…” hugging the man tighter when they take a turn and slide to a halt when the path ends. Both stare at the dead end where it disappears, the rock sloping into the bubbling river. A snort at this new development, they ask, “Now what?”
“Good question…” pulling the child into his arms. "But I do have an idea," turning toward the Slayer as he tries to hand Baal to a glaring Slayer.
The unwilling exchange is cut short when some lava bubbles up like boiling water. A small spot right by the wall bubbles and froths when a head rises from the pool, a pair of red eyes glaring at the trio. The sight of a deep frown and clenched fists sending a chill down John’s spine.
Davoth walks out for the ground to sizzle under his boots, the molten rock dripping off his skin. Again dressed in his royal attire, he stares the men down, locking them to the spot. His steps measured as he growls to John, “You have more gall than I knew a human could possess. All the privilege I gave you and you throw it away without a single thought. You have two seconds to hand my child over, or you will end up as a stain on my boot.”
“Why? Come and get the kid,” moving toward the path's edge and away from the lord.
“Slayer—”
“Nah, he ain’t part of this. Don’t even try putting this on him,” scratching a tusk while Baal hides their face in his shirt, trying not to laugh as their sides shake. The man hushes them, saying to not ruin the fun yet as he places a hand on the back of their neck.
“What did you do to my child?” the ruler bristling as he steps forward and John again backs away.
“Nothing they didn’t deserve. After all I did, I think this is the perfect way to end this game.”
“You are dead!” in a blink in front of John, crushing the corporal's throat as he grabs his baby. The heir safe as he slams the offender onto the ground, only stunning him as Davoth bellows, “Give me one reason to let you live! I want to see you beg before I make sure there is no body to find!”
The man smiles, not saying a word when he shakes his head.
“You are to be my child’s next meal when I’m done. Hung from a spike and begging to turn into a disposable unwilling. Left to rot for your bones to join all the others in this hole.”
“Then I win,” he gasps, feeling dizzy as he can’t suck in enough air. "That's the best you can do? What kind of threat is that? My superiors have better threats when I don't clean the toilet fast enough."
“How pathetic. This is a victory?”
“Better than what I get most days.”
“Then die like the stain you are,” tossing the man to land in a heap close to the lava. Looming over to raise a boot, the sole casts a shadow over John’s chest.
“Daddy, what are you doing?” yells Baal, as if they just figured out what the adults were discussing. “You already won the game.”
“What are you talking about?” asks Davoth, lowering his foot to pin the marine to the ground. “Game?”
“Yeah, you caught us. So we have to find out how much you love me.”
“Baal, now is not the time to interrupt. Please wait when I am in the middle of something serious. We cannot leave this human unpunished after putting you in danger. I understand that—”
“I want to know. How many demons did you send? Was it a million or a billion? This is way more important. Stop pretending, Daddy. I know you are just playing. Toy told me everything.”
Davoth seems to at last understand the situation and smiles. A chuckle heard when he replies, “Oh yes… That game,” glancing at the Slayer for answers. The man shakes his head as he points to John, making the lord sigh and rub a temple. “Right, I seem to have gotten too invested in this. Well, it was only a few thousand in the titan corpse, but at least half of hell got assembled. I think that counts, so about twenty billion.”
“Woah, that is a lot,” stretching both arms as far as they can reach before hugging the lord. “That’s a big number. Like this much. Right, Daddy?”
And like they had crossed into a twisted, backward universe, the ruler melts from the affection and smiles. His expression softening while kneeling on John. A pained groan from the crushed man as the lord reciprocates Baal's hug with a kiss on the cheek. In a soft tone, saying, “Yes, you are right. But remember, this is just for me to show you, okay? No matter how you do, that is always your best. Promise?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s my wonderful child,” motioning the Slayer to take the royal away. The two out of arm’s reach when the lord turns back to the pinned man. “So, that is the game you wanted to play. What a fun toy you are, John. A warrior’s death? For you? How foolish of a wish. You don’t even deserve a coward’s demise, corporal.”
“Give me some points for keeping the kid entertained. Wasn't it you who said I was good with the precious little heir? Why don't you finish this competition already? I still won this. You fell for my game.”
“We are done playing that little ruse. I shall fix this minor issue soon. The hell priests should be happy to practice on a new mind. Hopefully, they will get this right the first time. No need to miss the opportunity for an otherwise fun plaything.” The corners of his lips rise as he speaks, telling his captive how bad he fucked up.
“What are you talking about?” frowning at the smug grin Davoth wears when he looks the man over. What was the fucker talking about? This wasn't how the lord was supposed to react... Why was he not riled up anymore? He had tricked the guy with his own child... How did that not warrant a worse outcome?
Davoth grins, leaning in closer. “Exactly what I said, John. The Deag needs more training in fixing defective minds. Such flaws, like this, require steps most are unwilling to take. I am not one to possess such weakness. And neither are they.”
“No, no, you are not shoving a probe or knife or whatever in my head! Nobody is doing shit! You are fucking with me. You won't do shit, you fucking coward!”
“Hmmm, how archaic, don’t you think? The priests do not employ cutting, stabbing, or opening the skull. No, you will receive a more pleasant experience.”
“Over my dead body.”
“Not this time, toy,” standing up to drag the man with him to the warrior and his heir.
All four standing together, Davoth opens a doorway to the throne room, walking to the center. Where the long table sat during the meeting, it has now been replaced by a much smaller one made of stone. The top is decorated with runes and what appears to be dried blood, odd images carved among the symbols. The rough surface the perfect length to fit John’s torso and neck when he’s pushed down, head and hips hanging off the ends. A hand pinning him down, Davoth has a pair of unwilling enter through a portal. No words are said when he snaps and John’s arms lurch, an unseen force pulling them down to remain under the table. Any attempts to free himself useless, his limbs refusing orders. Not that he stops due to this setback, only resisting harder. Almost working himself into a frenzy when he hears the clack of bones and the hiss of zombies.
This is when John sees the strange stone piece move. Not in a way that allows it mobility. No, its legs without joints, the middles seem to instead unfurl like petals on a flower, the stone split to let the clacking grow louder. The man tries to pull free when the openings widen, revealing fingers formed from bone and tendon. The lengthy digits wrapping around his wrists. The fetters tighten when he tries pulling out, holding strong against his efforts as he grits his teeth and looks over a shoulder.
The zombies shuffle closer, reaching out for him. A good kick to the shambling corpse on his left knocks it to the ground.
Only for it to jump right back up, this time stumbling a lot faster around his unguarded torso. The next attack met with anger as his foot connects, the thing hissing louder as it remains standing. His boot not effective this time when bony arms latch onto his knee and bite down on the thick calf. A grunt of pain having the other unwilling grab his free leg and wrench it down so hard the joint screams, and he can’t tell if something snapped. Another set of fingers having the limb secured as his leg throbs and the hip screams in pain.
This is when the unwilling chewing on his calf unlatches, groaning as if it finished a large meal. John growls when he sees blood dribble down its chin onto a tattered white uniform. The messy mouth hanging open, he tries to kick its ugly skull to teach it a lesson. The foot pulling free, he was going to embed his boot right in its gaping mouth.
However, he quickly regrets his decision before the toe ever connects. A loud gasp exploding from his lips when the wound explodes with pain. A wave of pain slices through his body, every muscle jolting the table. The attack never connecting when he's grabbed again, shaking the rotting thing as he cringes and further tests the fetters. A new pain causing him to freeze when the zombie grabs him by the injured leg. Undead fingers digging into the bleeding wound to hold on while he struggles to breathe. His throat closing when the last limb is almost dislocated from getting forced into position and cuffed.
Somehow, despite the struggle, the lord has not moved the entire time. Instead of showing concern or anger, he sighs and taps a finger on John's spine, the pain dulling a little.
Then he removes the hand and walks over to the Slayer, who asks about this being necessary. The man repeating a few times that the whole thing was a game and this would not happen again.
John forces his head up to watch as Davoth takes Baal, saying both marines would benefit from this. So the Slayer would either help the priests, or sit back and remember why he was a vessel.
As he explains this, a portal opens to hear a heavy thud against the metal floor. The strange sound makes some sense when three tall, thin, lanky men step into the room with large walking sticks. Their skin a frostbite blue, John can see the red eyes on two of them, the piercing pupils standing out against their pale faces. Long skirts gliding across the ground as they approach the table with wide grins. A few hits at the zombies to send the things away, they tower over the trapped man.
“Oh, this one is small…” says the priest wearing a thin golden headpiece and heavy shoulder armor. Lacking any jewels or accessories, the headpiece looks like a tree branch wrapped around his skull. “Do you think this procedure can be done?”
The one with a helm covering half his face bends over to inspect the human, grabbing a fistful of hair to make him snarl. The verbal warning allows a finger to go inside the man’s mouth and touch his teeth, pulling out his tongue for a moment. The hand retreating when this priest replies, “I assume he will be like the others. However, we should stick to the basics. There is no need for anything special if we want him alive.”
“Just do this right the first time,” orders Davoth. “He requires the same care as the breeder, nothing more. Do not fail me, or you will receive an even worse fate…” walking out of the room as Baal looks at their father and John. The kid asks what’s wrong, and the lord answers John put papa in danger, was not supposed to let him run around when pregnant.
The pair gone, the priests turn back to their prisoner as the Slayer walks over; the warrior nonreactive when the two priests who had spoken touch his body. Or he pretends to not care, shifting when the first priest slides a hand between his legs.
John growls, bearing his teeth until the last one with a spiked crown leans in and grabs his face, sharp nails digging into his skin. Pointed teeth graze against an ear as the priest's hot tongue gets a taste of the lobe. The corporal fighting his fetters as the long digits tighten around his wrists again.
The final holy man laughs and tells the others, “He is even more fun than the breeder. This human will need to be very giving, or this might get messy.”
“Don’t be careless with this one, Nilox,” says the second priest. “Only bleed him into the cup.”
“Of course,” he replies, letting John go to have his way with the still unmoving Slayer. Another growl from the bigger marine making him laugh and ask if the warrior liked the sight in front of him.
This has the Slayer frown and pull away, looking at the unholy trio as he growls his response. "Do not try anything. I will be, be, be... watching.
“Oh, is the breeder getting an attitude because of his pregnancy? Or are you mad you have to share the toy with us?”
“Shut up. I will—”
“You shall do nothing,” snaps the third. All three look at the Slayer with hunched postures and hungry looks, but this one seems more ravenous than his companions. The priest saying as he slaps the warrior, “The wise lord said you would help, or sit on the floor and watch. So listen, or we can call a few marauders to keep you out of the way.”
“You can’t.”
“Do you want us to call some right now?” asks the armored one as he reaches behind, having the Slayer part his legs to let the fingers play with his ass.
And all the fettered marine can do is watch as the other two join in, molesting the man while he doesn’t seem to possess the willpower to fight. His face lax when the helmed priest unzips the jumpsuit to run a hand over his rounded belly and smile. The others commenting on how well this womb had worked before asking if they could replicate this. A few glances at John having him stiffen as all three caress the growing fetus.
They are not serious. There is no way these unholy men would do that. Even Davoth wasn’t serious with his threats. Was he…?
In a quick tone, he tells the Slayer, “Fight them! What are you doing? They can’t do anything. Break these cuffs, and I will take care of this! Fuck, just snap their necks. Do you not see how weak they are? I'm sorry, okay? I will make it up to you right now! Please, I am so fucking sorry... This is all my fault, okay? Please! Let me help!”
The other marine tries to answer when the first priest laughs and turns to John. His staff raised to point at the tied-down man, he says, “Creatures like you are special ones. All act tough and dangerous, even when chained and bound. Until they learn their fate is sealed and the alterations begin. So many beg before their execution. Thank the venerable lord we show such mercy. This is much more fun than watching a demon rip you apart in the arena.”
“Yeah, like you can do shit! Can’t even tell who you are, so I know which grave to spit on first.”
“Daeg Grav. Though such a name means nothing to the foolish. Who knew Davoth had a soft spot for cannon fodder? Right, Ranak?”
The helmed one nods and grabs the Slayer’s collar to bend him forward. “I assume he would do better with more additions. The human possesses the anger of a valuable distraction. Yes, I think this will be perfect. We can make the procedure work.” With a pull on the black circle, he forces the Slayer to stare at John before his stone gets pressed, and both moan. Each losing the desire to fight before the three priests could finish bringing the bigger marine to his knees.
Rage gets replaced with need. John watching with a big grin as the two priests with visible faces walk over and tap his shoulder to have the uniform disappear. A breeze blows between his legs showing everything was gone.
The pair let their skirts fall to the ground, revealing slender cocks that bounce in front of his face. The small distance between him and the obvious prize like candy dangled just out of reach. A look at the men that loom over having him hum thanks to his far more agreeable mood, forgetting all about the pleas and threats he had said before.
There was no reason to escape when Grav smiles and approaches, standing close to lift his face. No apprehensions from John when long nails scratch his chin and he’s led to the waiting head. The shaft slips in with a shared chuckle. A gaze for this priest alone after Nilox goes around and touches his wounded leg. With a gasp from John, he slides a finger over the bite wound to have the man moan from the sharp pain shooting up his body. Muscles clenched when a nail digs into the teeth marks while Grav lets out a gravelly purr and starts moving. Slow thrusts pushing inside for his dick to take advantage of the hot hole John offers. The suffering makes him shudder as fingers comb through the toy's hair, who watches his user with wide eyes.
Only to pull off when Nilox deepens the wound, and he wants to scream. Teeth grit to prevent the cock from entering as he groans and thrashes, feeling the blood run down his shin. Rivulets stream down his face as Grav screams something so the other priest laugh and bends under the table. A growl from the one in front when he fists John’s hair and orders him to either continue or get his other leg bitten to compensate.
The man blinks back the tears welling in his eyes and shows a pained smile. Doing his best to speak in a normal voice when he says, “Please, don’t stop. Can take it, promise.”
This has Grav smile and loosen his grip, pressing his slit against parted lips. Then slams his cock inside with a sharp buck. A few more force the hole to tighten around the length, hitting the back with a sound. John stares as the hand gripping the locks relocates to the back of his skull, and his nose ends up against smooth skin. Giving a smile as the pain dulls in his leg, he moans with relief on the glans.
But such a lull does not last long. The man cries out as something forces his ass open, unable to investigate when the slap of balls on his chin and a lustful priest keep his mouth busy. Powerless to stop the exploration when a slender finger slips inside and grinds on his tunnel as he wishes to whimper. Hearing Ranak huff when he speaks, he says to not add too much. A grunt coming right after, the sound mixing with a purring Slayer. John wants to smile as he imagines what those two are doing. The corners of his lips lifting at the image his mind conceives.
Then forgetting everything when a couple more fingers find their way inside, and he melts while getting his ass played with. The fact he can’t push back to fit more of the digits in there is frustrating—at first. Then he’s told to stop shaking while the girth fucking his mouth pulls out to slap his face. The wet rod smacking him across the cheek.
John blushing as he smiles back, sticking his tongue out to have it driven down his throat. The humiliation of being corrected makes him want to get on his knees and suck this dick right. Maybe pushed onto the floor and feel—
The pace speeds up as the fingertips in his tunnel curl deep inside, and he needs to howl. A low groan vibrates the shaft so Grav places both hands on the toy’s skull to swallow his cock. A body-shuddering gag sends a powerful message. One which the priest rightfully ignores to ram down his throat. Then continues to disrespect, the toy drowning in the erotic abuse as nails rake over his insides and he spasms, his mind going blank.
A laugh snaps him back to consciousness. Blue skin and a pain in his ass having him see neither had stopped fucking his holes. A dumb smile twists his lips. Grav pulls on his hair and snaps an order at him. His voice tight when he commands John to not swallow, slamming into the man’s hole a final time.
Thick ropes shoot out before John can prepare. His hands clenching as he cannot pull his head back. Or look away when the one above groans in orgasmic bliss. Tears well up in John’s eyes as he obeys and ignores the demonic taste of the priest that makes him almost gag.
Grav purrs as he pulls out and steps away to grab a stone bowl. A finger pointing to the empty container, John gawks as a red liquid with a clear swirl spills from his mouth. The colors remain separate when this combination gets set aside, and Grav moves out of his field of view. However, it is hard to wonder why when Nilox takes over. Something bigger than his fingers setting his insides on fire as he moans and turns around. A glint of silver in the corner of his eye.
A hiss bursts from his lips when a stronger pain than before rockets up his spine. A second almost getting him to yell when he sees the priest thrust inside. John’s face falls as his entire body stiffens, and he craves to break free. A whine slips out before he’s told to be quiet, and a fresh wound rewards his outburst. The sharp point of a knife draws a long line down his spine as he begs for the other to stop and fuck him. Another slice down his thigh silences the pathetic pleas as he moans, a buck filling him again.
“Nilox…” he groans when it pulls out, panting as something warms the back and inside of his thighs. “I’m sorry…”
“Oh, so this one thinks he is escaping this with a simple apology? I love the desperation he clings to.”
Ranak laughs as he glances at John, still getting sucked off by the Slayer as he stands there. A finger pointed at John when he hisses, “Keep those spine cuts shallow. Cannot risk too much loss yet. The lord will… bring… bring the replacement after the ritual.” Then he lets out a low groan as the two marines do the same. His shaft retreating from the warm hole, he spills on parted lips.
The breeder lets the ropes shoot all over his mouth, catching some on his tongue. A smile on his face when he leans in to have more skin painted. The strange red color not ruining this reward when he grabs the shooting cock and gives it a lazy stroke. The hand falling to let the last rope hit a cheek as he looks at John and cleans his face with slow licks.
The man watching from the table can only laugh as he blinks back tears, his lower half on fire as he cannot quit leaking onto the floor. Or stop both knees from quivering like he was in the middle of an earthquake. The dulling ache was not as bad as before…
Ranak catches his breath and slaps the Slayer, drawing John’s attention to the pair again. A hand touching the breeder's chin, the helmed priest tells him to wait by the table. The man frowns for a second before he tries to stand up. Another slap and a pull on the collar, he is corrected with a harsh tone. Quick to shrink away as he gets on all fours, crawling over to the tied-up marine.
His back turned to Ranak, he smiles at John, purring with delight as the other gets used and bleeds. Not at all hiding how his hand grabs his cock again, he asks if the corporal likes the three holy men. Then adding he knows he got fucked by them before, but is unsure when. A slight falter in his confidence giving his face a ditzy look as he seems to think for a moment.
This only makes John titter when his head lulls to the side, his entire body pleasantly numb when Nilox grabs his hip. With a grunt, the priest pulls him backward and spills inside. A low groan heard when he shivers, and the cock pumps his hole full of come. Still unmoving once the user empties his balls, he stares at the floor while two fingers find the sloppy rim and keep it sealed. A press on the muscle having it accept the tips to plug him up.
The priest now asks him if he wants to see what happened. Ranak and Grav growl at him to shut up. Not a torture session. The scolded one sounding annoyed, he grunts back and shoves the digits in deeper.
Now it’s Ranak’s turn on John, and he takes Nilox’s place to keep the hole plugged. With a click of the tongue, he whispers, leaning forward to blow a warm breath over the globes. The cool sensation of drying come disappears when a hand kneads a cheek, and he perks up a little. Jaws slack when something wet and hot travels over the crack. A few more change his mood when what can only be a tongue plunges inside and gets his tunnel prepared for another round. The intrusion far longer than a man from Earth, John hums at the deep massage.
And he about howls when the hand not fondling an ass cheek finds his cock. The fist around the head works his shaft to a proper erection as he whispers “Yes” and lets hushed sounds echo in the massive throne room. His thoughts returning to the last time he got railed here. A drunken smile on his face as he wonders why he didn’t think of this before.
Then stops when he tries to cooperate with the hands that are working his hard-on, wanting nothing more than to finish all over the floor. The need only swells as he whimpers when the mouth leaves to pant, slow licks over the rim far different this time as more whispers vibrate on his skin. Again feeling Ranak shove his face in there and cause his body to burn, the hand on his ass finding the soft taint as his cock throbs.
John’s fingers claw at the table legs as they do not yield to his desires. The furniture refusing to budge as he begs to come, needed to come so fucking bad. His hips shaking when he cannot open his thighs any further.
“Please…” he whines when these efforts do nothing. “I’m close!”
Ranak doesn’t stop except to remove the hand from his taint for a second. Then it’s back, pushing deeper to really get his insides.
“Hey…” says the Slayer, lowering his eyelids as he cups the other marine’s chin. “Face here.”
“What…?” struggling to understand what that was supposed to mean.
“Nevermind,” already standing to strip off the jumpsuit while jerking off, stepping out to wave the head in front of John. “Just watch,” the dumb look on his visage matching his toy's.
“OH…” moaning as he stares and his body jumps.
Then shoots hot come, his mind stopping as his eyes cross. The load pours out when he finds it impossible to do more than groan from the fist stroking him. Soft words tell him to offer it all and he twitches to gift the lingering drops. His mouth open in a stupid grin as he unclenches and feels nothing but pure bliss.
“What a good pair you are,” Ranak praises the marines, walking toward the throne with a bowl. The other two priests following behind when he adds, “We must be careful with this next part. Slayer, you will help with this. Grab his head and hold it still. I’m sure you can figure out how to do that, and get what you need.”
The breeder nods, looking down at the ensnared man when his glans push against waiting lips. After a second to clear his mind, John opens and swallows the cock. A slow lick over the slit gets a hand to pet his hair, pulling the shaft in deeper so the fingers curl. The palm pushes on the back of his skull when he sucks the other off. A soft sound from the hulking marine only encourages him to bob his head faster as his mouth stretches around the girth. His brain swirls as the Slayer decides that is perfect and takes over, gently fucking the toy’s face. The corporal watches as his nose ends up in the thick bush, wishing his hands were free to do more for them.
God, if he could get this man to choke him, he would—
The first slice across a shoulder has him groan. The cock in his hole stops, the bigger marine holding John’s head still. A sound of worry from the breeder, he refuses to act when the cut grows, obeying his orders perfectly. Grav speaking as the toy whines in pain. A touch of the wound earning him a jump from the toy as a nail dips into fresh blood.
“Hey…” groans the Slayer as his cock twitches from the stimulation. “Isn’t that going… John, hurt?”
Nilox laughs, and another cut curls between the corporal’s shoulder blades. “Quiet, breeder. The human is not suitable in this current state. In order to remain in your care, you will let him get better right now.”
“Are you… sure…?” a slow pull out, letting the other marine inhale air as his cock sits in a cheek. A groan from his toy vibrating the head.
John takes the torture, wanting the shaft deeper to distract him again. Now tightening his lips when a circle is carved just below his neck. A plea to the Slayer ignored as the warrior shakes his head and pets his injured plaything.
“He cannot act out like today ever again,” snaps Nilox, the next slice feeling deeper when traveling down John’s spine. “Come or don’t, but he will not move! If you want me to restart, let him interfere.”
John is certain it hits a nerve as he struggles to end this despite the overwhelming lust. A sound shakes the table as he fights the fetters, and the hand on his skull keeps him still. The Slayer seems to believe the threat when he shoves his cock down the hole and lets throat muscles cling to the head. John’s larynx causes the thick shaft to throb as he gets choked, gagging on the girth as his nose crams into the dense bush. An eye closed as he pulls against the unyielding hold and begs for mercy with a gaze.
But it is all in vain when the one preventing his freedom turns away, watching the holy men carve his flesh. Soon after stopping his resistance as he grows weak. The pain, lack of oxygen, and the breeder's obedience were too overwhelming for him to fight. He could only let it happen as he is told by all three priests he would endure everything. John can like it or not, but he would be fixed.
This seems to help the circle decide for him. His brain cannot kill the lust that remains thanks to its effects as he gets hard again. The strange mix of pain and pleasure let him take advantage of his overworked body to surrender. The one cutting his hips announcing this change as another tells the Slayer he was doing well. The praise has the cock pull out for the toy to inhale more oxygen. An involuntary smile lifting the corners of John's lips as the length grinds on his tongue, and he could act as a warm space for a dick. The wet insides have the pregnant breeder lean forward so his belly presses down, both arms shaking as he rests on the table. A tight voice compliments the corporal when he caresses the baby bump. Lazy bucks doing most of the work to keep both busy.
Then the breeder stops. After so long, getting relief when he almost falls forward with a groan, spilling his seed into the waiting mouth. A slow thrust has his toy hurry to lap up the load as he closes his eyes. The taste of the Slayer on John’s tongue when he swallows every drop out of habit. The tip massaging out more as he turns his head to watch the way his user shakes and pants, a soft whimper showing how badly the other needed this blowjob. And despite the pain, John has a reason to enjoy each second of being in this position. Seeing how the round belly quivers when the last of the come gets milked out like the good brood-stallion deserved. The man below worried when the breeder leans in more. A slight sway warning the rest of the approaching physical limit.
That is until the Slayer drops to his knees and laughs, a stupid grin on his lips when he grips the table legs. A light blush on his cheeks when he shows off his still hard cock and grabs John to keep him distracted, asking how much longer they were going to be here. Nilox chuckles as he sinks the knife into a rib and whispers just a few more runes. Quick flicks of the blade slice open flesh when John groans and gets a tongue shoved inside. The breeder was great at obeying orders under the stone’s influence as he silences the noise. The man he distracts happy for misdirection as the knife lifts and the priests step away. The pain pulsing when they pull back to breathe and watch the trio slink away. John dragged back for more kisses when the holy men get dressed.
So this is what the Slayer meant about being more agreeable with the collar. No wonder the lord of Hell loved him so much…
Once their skirts are on and each lean on their staffs, the three Deag leave the throne room. The clang of their departure is the last thing either man hears when the breeder ends the kiss. Both glancing around the area for anyone else. No one enters when John motions to the cuffs, ready to get back to business in a better position.
Davoth’s voice stops the Slayer as he reaches for the first cuff. The pair looking at the throne where the lord now sits, glaring at them with a raised brow.
“Not five minutes and both of you want to fuck," the lord says. "Can you not wait for the ritual to begin?”
He gets to his feet and stalks off the stage. Standing over the pair, he grabs the frozen breeder and pushes him to the floor. A hand raised, it glows as the metal ground turns into a chain; the links wrapping around the Slayer’s arms. A blink of surprise at the harsh treatment, the breeder doesn't make a sound when he's forced to kneel. Nor does he say a word when Davoth grabs John by the nape of his neck and taps the side of the tabletop. As the stone crumbles into a pile of dust, he lifts the toy over his head.
Then, in a single motion, the lord brings him down as the table pieces form a chair, the bones once more strapping his wrists and ankles. A yell of pain bursts from his lips. The man’s entire body on fire when raw wounds hit the hard surface. His throat tightens when he looks up at the smiling ruler. Teeth clenched to not scream when he sees the other pull out a glowing red knife and a long needle. Eyes widening when Davoth turns to peer at the Slayer and laughs.
His eyelids lowered when he asks a single question for the man. “Remember these?”
The Slayer shrinks away, nodding as he gazes at John. A look of genuine fear shows as he pleads with the lord, saying to stop. The other man wasn’t ready. Needed more time.
But this has no effect on the lord. Turning back to the chair, Davoth just shrugs and says, “Then we’ll try that approach with the next one. There are equally angry humans out there who are far less trouble.” The strange tools raised, he approaches the toy as his smile grows. His voice soft when he promises to deal with the pain, but the tied-down man would have to remain awake. No fainting, or this would take even longer.
John shakes his head, eyes on the quickly approaching knife. Forced to watch as the tip pierces skin, gritting his teeth as it splits him open. His lips sealed as the blade slices apart his chest, and he remains silent. The tears involuntary as he shuts his eyes to not see when his guts fall out. Ragged breaths met with indifference. His body begins to shut down, and the lord continues cutting. An order to not quit just yet the only comfort he gets. The hand on his face petting a cheek for just a second. The touch acting like a horrific promise of what is to come very soon.
The voice that praises him for lasting this long is distant and muffled. A strange fog creeps over as his mind fades. The edges of his vision dark when a hand again touches his cheek. The denial of any real relief just there to remind him he was still alive.
A gentle caress bars him the mercy of slumber. A simple hold of his face enough to keep him conscious. Every nerve screams as he hears chanting, and his head lulls. Too helpless to do more than watch the organs spill on his torso. The freed flesh wriggles under the sunlight as if burned. Too weak to care when they are set free.
The last thing he sees before closing his eyes is the knife, and his guts fighting a tight fist. A harsh hold on the muscles choking them like wriggling serpents. The first slice to sever the organ feeling like nothing as delirium finally offers him mercy.
Notes:
Oh no, what have I done to our precious marines! And after John confessed something so intimate... Poor Slayer, so close to such kindness. I'm sure one day he'll get a break, but today is not that day.
Again, leave a comment for any reason, I love to respond and try my best to reply.
Chapter 12: The Birth Of A New Breeder Part 1
Summary:
John on the mend from his procedure, the Slayer decides to visit the new breeder while Davoth is away. Both men using this time to discuss their future and the next steps.
The lord returning to take care of his bigger brood-stallion, before letting the palace help...
Notes:
I'm back and with another two parter! Which will probably be up tomorrow, depending on how well the kits act during their tattooing. Because, yes, after this long, my big girl gave birth to a very large litter (11 bunnies that made it to weaning, which is impressive since she only has ten nipples). So now I have 11 little demons and demon slayers, and two very big ones, because I wanted to do the fucking meme (momma is named Isabella {I changed it a little from Animal Crossing, liked it more for her} and daddy is Slayer). I would have posted sooner, but life happened as stated before, and a comment on the previous chapter made me realize there was something missing between that one and the one I was going to originally.
In other news, this one gets a little sappy at the beginning, but we're in Hell, so you know there is going to be some demonic fun in both parts.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The Slayer walks into the small bedroom, the soft hiss of the door telling Davoth of his arrival. The man coming closer when the lord removes his hand from John’s ass and straightens, turning his back to the glaring corporal. Neither of the standing pair says a word as he pulls up his pants, then sits up to rest his chin on raised knees. Or when the ruler snaps to have a flat box fall on the bed, which John opens to reveal a pizza. Davoth sighs when the bedroom fills with the sound of ravenous eating. But he doesn’t stop the starving marine. No, all he does is touch the Slayer’s face and lead him to the doorway.
A hand hovering over the collar, he says, “Do not leave this room until I get back. It should be awhile, so if he gets hungry, tell him to swallow like a breeder or call Orcus. He’ll eat either way.”
“What does that—”
“Do not be too rough with the toy. If he tears from anything you do, he will require another surgery. And we both know who wants to prevent that.”
“Why would I—”
“We can speak later,” grabbing the collar to pull the warrior forward, rubbing the slightly protruding navel before placing a quick kiss on the lips. This is more than enough to have the Slayer’s knees quiver when pushed away while Davoth exits, waving to the marine chained to the bed.
The Slayer shakes a little, listening to the fading footsteps. Then he clears his head and turns to see John devour his food with a disgusted expression. Mouth curled in revulsion, he looks as if he's been forced to eat the vilest dish in Hell. Eyes down and back hunched like he wanted to suffer the abuse.
Instead of asking why, the Slayer walks over and sits across from John as he watches the pizza slices disappear. The groan of the mattress grabs the smaller marine’s attention to at last look up and stare at the warrior’s body. His expression softens at whatever he sees as he slows down and leans on a pillow, sliding the chained arm behind his back.
“How you doing?” asks the Slayer, crossing his legs as he scratches his stomach.
“Good. No infections or issues with the sutures. Was told the valves are doing great for being implanted so early... When did you get them?”
“After the stitches healed a bit. Not sure why you got them, them, them after one meal...”
“Doesn’t matter, I guess.”
“Davoth knows what he’s doing. You’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, don’t want to talk about that...” taking a slice from the full circle. “What’s up with the outfit, noble warrior? Doesn’t look like mine or the bastard’s,” adjusting a hem on his leggings to pull down the dark green fabric. Next fixing the waistband as if to emphasize how similar it was to the ruler’s usual piece of clothing.
The Slayer nods and glances at the clothes he put on. Nothing special, it’s just his gray sweatpants and a white crop top. “That is my normal outfit... but I wanted more room. And fewer demons. They like to stare when farther along. Except for some bigger creatures... Keeps smaller ones busy looking.”
“Looks good on you. It must be comfortable compared to our uniforms. At least these leggings are.”
“Always wore them before going to Earth. More natural. Nothing hurts?”
“No, only hungry,” shoving a whole slice in his mouth. “Ain’t the greatest thing, but it is edible, and I have not taken a shit since we got here. Though I don’t feel blocked... So I can’t complain.” Taking another piece, he picks off a little cheese to nibble on as he shows his chained wrist again. “Just tell me the truth. Can you say what happens now? What is going to happen because I have this fucked-up sac inside me?” staring at the floor to not meet the other marine’s gaze. “How bad will this be?”
The Slayer rubs his face, his eyes on the half-eaten food. Next saying, “It won’t hurt, at first. Only after getting impregnated and when it grows,” recounting the two heirs. All he can remember when alone and dealing with Davoth forcing endless demons on him when with Bel, then being tired with Baal and caring for a needy child. The pain when they feasted while fettered to him. The long labors in the racks to deliver them for the lord of Hell.
John is silent as he finishes the last slice, his breathing faster as he crushes the container. A shiver when he tosses it aside, looking at his feet. A sigh saying this was a necessary warning when the lines under his eyes grow deeper. The comforting hand the Slayer offers doesn’t completely calm him, but he accepts the gesture. The man staying quiet when he gives a quick squeeze and promises to help with everything, so Davoth can ensure a safe birth. A reassuring smile showing as John turns away.
Who now says, “I’ve seen the symptoms, Slayer. If mine is anything like that, I will end up so much worse. And it’s not as if I need more reasons to regret not trying harder... Already stressed you out enough.”
“Don’t fucking say that!” he snaps back, pulling them closer together. “You have no right. Your death fucks me over, too. Davoth would use it, it, it against me. Have another replace you.”
John furrows his brows and blinks, fighting the grip on his shoulder. “Let go! Damn— You damn well know why! Would be because you didn’t do a thing to stop this. What is stopping you from doing something? If I could get Davoth so worked up, why can’t you? I can only do so much. And shit, I was not made for this.” His voice cracking as his free hand curls into a fist, and he swings at the other marine.
Who watches as the limb blurs, a quick motion all it takes to block the blow and grab the offending wrist, dragging the attacker into his arms. A tight hug holds the corporal hostage as he struggles against the embrace with a growl and harsh threats. Yelling to quit interfering when he was doing the right thing.
“I know,” is the Slayer’s reply, squeezing the other tighter to feel him stop. “Last time I tried to escape here. Wanted it to end the same. Same way, me dead. Wasn’t the plan, but... If that’s how it goes. Would be lucky.”
John grows lax, the fist at his side uncurling to fall against their sides. The hold loosening for him to say, “I’m sorry...”
The Slayer nods and lays the smaller man down, sitting beside him to reply, “If you love me so much… prove it. No more plans like before.”
“And you should realize why I don’t see many options.”
“I won’t stop you. Not from planning an escape. But death is not the answer. Or last resort. We work together on this, too. Do you understand?”
John blinks several times, frowning just a little more. “Yeah, but if you keep surprising me like that, I’ll worry you’re trying to lure me somewhere.”
“What do you mean?”
“Got worried you would go in two very different directions after returning to your senses. That you might lecture me on fighting Davoth again. Or snap and force me to give up. Glad to see you are smarter than the vibe some sense. Seems this breeder is retiring early.”
“Of course, I love you too,” lifting the corners of his lips as he says it.
The words feel right when this makes the corporal smile. The light in those green irises all he needs to learn he might get to repay the man and keep him more sane. After they became linked thanks to Davoth, he had not thought about his offer to John, now realizing the other was asking for more of the Slayer with this expression. And he had a way to distract and calm the other when the need grew more obvious. His one ability had to be desired if they were talking about it like this.
His heart speeds up when he hears John almost confirm this. “I was hoping you would say that. I realize we can’t do anything too serious. But if we are careful, I’ll make sure you are happy until we are free of this literal Hell. Then we can see what a non-breeder Slayer is like. Maybe we could find your world. Get some answers.”
This has the warrior beam and lean in, brushing a hand over his partner’s. “Yeah, take things slow. Be cautious. I can do that. Know how to make you happy.”
“Sure...” a flash of sadness showing in his eyes. Then he smiles again and adds, “Can’t be careless when we have a lot to do first. Not after all I went through to get this far. One day...”
“Great,” leaning in to give a quick kiss on the forehead, so John chuckles. Both wearing the same expression when he rests his head on the smaller chest, fingers tracing the muscles nearby. “Now you don’t need to worry. Or ask anymore. That's good enough, right?”
This has John frown and let out an annoyed sigh, averting his gaze. “No, that’s not how this works, like I said before. I thought we established that the first time you raised the idea. This is still a two-sided situation.”
“I know to ask. But you do not have to. My lords taught me to be ready. They appreciated it when ordering me around. This is no different.”
“Yeah, again, we are not on the same page.” Continuing when the Slayer frowns, “We work as a team. And that means not saying shit like that. This should not be a big deal if you continue to respect my wishes. Besides, it's not like we can do anything right now. Not with the surgery. Am I wrong?” raising a brow at the bigger marine.
“No. I am not one to ask, anyway. My lords trained me well.”
“You really are a marine... But that means you are going to not bring this up when I am healing.”
“Sorry, didn’t mean. Mean it like that,” now his turn to look away, staring where the sac should be. “Just saying why. Nothing else.”
“That’s good.”
“What about something different? Maybe... a kiss...?”
The Slayer snaps his lips shut after he asks that stupid question. His face growing warm, each word seemed to have dragged across his tongue like dunes of sand. Every gritty, nasty particle grating on the inside of his mouth. This was not what he was supposed to do. Why would he need to inquire when it was expected he would be there for anyone to enjoy? It felt good if they were excited and tried to see what he would do. This is shit compared to those terrible movies where the lover jumped—
“Well, when you get that flustered... How long have you been waiting to ask?”
“Never mind.”
“No, no, don’t... Just uh, thought I would have to wait. Like way later when you calmed down. Is that all you want?”
“Yeah. Davoth is going to be gone. For a while. Need to do something.”
“There we go... What did you have in mind?”
This more familiar question makes him give a genuine smile, sitting up to rest a hand one either side of John’s hips as the corporal sits up. “Is that all you want?”
“Yes. Now, get started,” lifting a hand toward the Slayer’s shirt collar. A light tug giving a simple command to the man.
The warrior pushes John onto his back again, knowing what to do this time. The moment the other’s head is on the pillow, he places a kiss on the waistband of the leggings. A glance up, he sees how the green eyes stare back with a quirked brow. Just laughing when he plants another kiss above the first, starting a slow trail up the invisible line that led them to this bedroom. Careful to get all around the circle like Davoth did with his knife, playing with temptation when he explores the curves and dips of the man’s body. An occasional sigh and lift of the hand from above ignored the entire journey to his chest. One kiss right in the middle, making his captive audience beg for this to keep going. The palm on the Slayer’s spine begging for him to leave a few marks on his toy’s open throat.
Another to the same place, the Slayer now crawls all the way on top. Careful to keep his hips where neither would think about it. He smiles at how well he listens and sets his hands on either side of John’s head, leaning forward to find the perfect spot on his neck to nip. A few getting him to move and invite the breeder in, John gasps with the last one. A kiss on the skin right after, followed by greedy lips making sure the first mark will be easy to see. Must make the demons under—
The hiss of the door opening has both marines jump up. In the blink of an eye, the Slayer sits up and whips his head around to lock gazes with glowing red irises. As if put under a spell, he is frozen when the lord crosses his arms and walks over.
Not even a hand grabbing his arm is enough to make him flinch. Only the sharp tug that drags him out of the bed and forces him to kneel on the floor snaps him out of it. And the most that does is have him brace for a rough landing. But then he stills again when the hard eyes stare him down with the order to remain silent and pay attention.
“What were you doing?” the lord growls, flashing sharpened teeth and tongue. “I do not remember saying to fuck the healing breeder. He can’t even walk around yet. Why are you trying to destroy it?”
“Said don’t be rough. But—”
“If you use his face! If you make the toy clench too hard, he might tear. That is what I meant. Both require surgery, but you could kill him if you rip the canal open by fucking it!”
“Oh...” says both marines. The Slayer turning to glance at a gawking John.
“Wasn’t trying to, Davoth,” continues the Slayer when he turns back. “Didn’t want to do that...”
The ruler squints and curls his lips in a snarl. “I doubt that. A breeder like you refuses to be left without. And I suspect you weren’t leaving your toy to find a demon.”
“He did not ask for that.”
“Neither interpretation of that statement is true.”
“We were waiting for you to return.” The sentence is said with truth, as he knows just how the lord would twist the words. Or simply assume when he parts his lips a little and looks at the stone in the sire’s chest. A look back at the red irises when he hears a chuckle and sees how Davoth grins.
Only saying this time, “Then you should try to remember that your body is heavy, Slayer. Do be careful not to sit on him, especially now you are so far along. You get voluptuous when my child makes themselves known to the world. And I would hate to have all my hard work go to waste before an heir gets made.”
“I know.”
“Good, you are coming with me. The trip is over, and I need you.”
“Yes... Davoth,” standing up to say goodbye to John. Turning back as he walks the familiar halls to one room he’s seen too often despite living on Earth.
Once more in Davoth’s bedroom, he crosses the threshold to hear his only escape close behind them. No other exit magically appears when a hand rests on his spine. Or when it leads him to the bed as his heart races and he waits for Davoth to activate the collar. His jaws clench when he’s forced to bend over, and the other arm wraps around his waist. A sharp breath exhaled on his shoulder to match the fiery skin that makes his body way too hot. A palm rubbing his belly so he flinches. The lord chuckles and asks if the breeder wants a thorough exam. A growl is the Slayer’s answer; clenched fingers gripping the sheets with white knuckles.
But Davoth acts unaffected, the touches only speeding up. A whisper to calm down or wake up the fetus enough for the Slayer to loosen his grip and see the soft glow of a spell circle. Fingertips tracing the breeder’s baby bump as he hears the gentle words of the lord’s language and a shaky breath heats his nape. The deep voice hastens as the hands move to hold his sides and his head lands in the bedding. The full weight of Davoth is on his back as they slip further into the mattress. Light from the ruler’s eyes soon outshining those in the chamber. A red tint covering everything.
Then it dims, and the Slayer is allowed to sink his lower half to the floor, his fingers gripping the blankets to not slide further down. The heavy footsteps of the lord’s boots assuring him the other stepped away before picking up the Slayer to set on the bed. Gentle motions place him at the head, his back propped up by a pillow when Davoth joins him. Sat in front, the sire takes ahold of his waistband while the other hand lifts both legs, ripping his sweatpants off. The same grace shown to his tops, he shivers when a finger traces his chest, creating a trail down to his hips. The soft exhale of a shallow breath sounds louder when he looks at the closed door. Holding his next breath as the digit inches toward his dick.
A single fingertip steals his attention. A simple touch of the jaw turns him back to Davoth as the lord leans forward and gives a kiss on the lips. Once more being touched and caressed as he closes his eyes and thinks how this is what he had wanted before. The deliberate feeling motions lack the odd feral hunger the ruler usually had as the fingers pause by his thighs, stopping after they slip closer toward his crotch.
They separate when the hand takes hold of his cock. A slow pump of the fist gets the warrior to open his legs more as he gasps. Another is allowed to escape when the arm continues to move. The man biting his lip as he fights to keep more from slipping out.
And as if he got offered a challenge—or a promise—Davoth accepts this invitation to do more, grabbing a breast to squeeze. Words to show the breeder’s disgust die in his brain when the pair of hands act as one, and his mind becomes a whirlwind of confusion. The collar is not there to keep him focused on fucking. He needs more, wants to escape, run, have more join in, embrace the thrill and love that he is being enjoyed like he can’t get from the corporal. Scream as he wants this to be over.
But no matter how hard he fights, he cannot even think of the right words. Anything he could use for protest swirls in his brain. Lost before they can reach his lips when the hot mouth returns for a much harder kiss this time. No longer slow and gentle, his mind is blank to all but the long tongue snaking past his jaws and down his throat. The lord climbs on top of him when he tries to pull away. A purr that vibrates the breeder having his hardening cock jump with delight as he shudders and bucks his hips. The pathetic moans he wants to make silenced.
Only allowed to suck in precious air after the ruler left his warrior a fucking mess. The man panting and shaking as his face and chest are flush. Showing a forced, shaky smile as a hungry gaze devours him. The arms still moving as he begs with a raspy voice to stop, won’t last long.
Instead of offering relief, Davoth switches breasts while he twists his wrists to make the slit leak. A hard throb flicks clear drops everywhere, more leaking down the shaft. Such a sight brings a smug grin to the lord’s lips. The fact they hit his abs is almost a challenge to try harder when he whispers into the breeder’s ear.
The self-satisfied tone is thick when he says, “You will never understand how often I wanted to do this after your surgery. To have you so willing in my hand. But I did not want to risk tearing if you got too excited and didn’t listen. I’m so thankful I waited. You look so much more delicious when pregnant. Swollen and leaking. My efforts proved twice, and a third success to come.”
The Slayer shudders as the words send a chill down his spine. Then he grips the sheets and bucks his hips when the hands speed up, the entire limb a blur.
“Am I wrong, breeder?” Davoth continues, leaning back to smirk at the man.
With a shake of the head, the Slayer says, “Only good thing. The surgery did for me. Couldn’t touch me. Pleasant time.”
“Yes, it was worth the wait. Now I get to enjoy all of this,” removing his hands to pull down the front of his pants. A hardening shaft pushing its way out, he adjusts to line up with his vessel’s swollen length, pressing down more weight to create a tight, hot space. The shared friction makes both groan while the lord bends forward. A quick exhale on the Slayer’s chest warns the man before he latches onto a breast.
The Slayer flinches at the warm, wet tongue that plays with the nipple, feeling every flick of the long muscle as it circles and swipes over the hardening flesh. The breeder moans as their cocks grind faster, his slit leaking harder to have both painted with clear drops. Both breathe quicker when Davoth fists their shafts and has his favorite fucktoy covered in excitement. The lord listening to the other lose it when he coaxes out the reaction he was intent on earning. The effort used on the soft tit, at last, having it release a sweet treat as guttural moans from the milked marine show how far gone he is.
And how close he was when both sources of simulation have waves of pleasure crash over his body. His fingers grab the blanket like a rescue rope. In a moment, becoming a shivering mess under Davoth’s control. He is a literal plaything to the ruler, groaning as he rolls his head to the side and fights to breathe. His skin on fire thanks to the lips and cock fucking with his mind. Doing what he can to remain in this dimension when he takes a fistful of the lord’s hair and gives a quick tug. A low moan making sure there is no misunderstanding as the mattress shifts and Davoth makes eye contact. The soft red glow of the ruler’s irises a sign it was safe. For now.
A quiet exhale seems like enough assurance to continue, once more forcing the man to go insane. Davoth grows more excited at the mess he makes of the Slayer, his gaze never breaking as he watches any resistance to him crumble. A purr teases the receiver, who clenches his fist and pushes the sire’s head deeper into the breast.
The pleased lord devours him as if a starving traveler, listening to the sad whines that come from this treatment. Grinding on the breeder’s cock faster to match the pace of the bucking hips underneath. The ragged breaths and panting are an obvious motivation for Davoth as he stares at the Slayer with greed and licks his fangs. The furrowed brows and wide smile an odd combination that the man is too far gone to care about. His brain is so deep in the frenzy while electric with sensations.
“Davoth…” the Slayer groans, turning away to stare at a blank wall and focus on something. “Please, fuck… Close, so close… Oh fuck!”
This last word emphasizes the first rope shooting out on the pair. His hand clenched and hips above the mattress, the marine uses all the friction and pressure he can to come, spilling all over. Head thrown back and chest heaving as his fingers clench and tug on Davoth’s scalp and more marks their skin. The lord getting the message as he lets the arm guide him to the cleavage. Now smiling when he removes the hold and rises to keep grinding their cocks together as he purrs.
“Please… nothing left,” the Slayer whines as the last dribbles out on his belly, the white drops falling into the sheets. A sad sound of overstimulation that seems more fitting for a wounded animal slipping from his lips. His voice tight as he pleads to the lord, “Stop… Stop! Done. Done, done, done. No more. No more.”
Davoth slows his motions, watching as he strokes their cocks. Speaking after the breeder whines again, “Oh, someone needed that. It should be no surprise you would be desperate. I left you alone for too long.”
With that, he backs up to give the Slayer’s girth some rest at last. The softening shaft falling to the side, he fists his own cock to stroke. Their eyes meeting as he spreads the breeder’s legs to stare at what belongs to him, the hand speeding up as he whispers in his own tongue. The words sharp and gruff, they cut off in an instant. Then his breath hitches as he leans forward, the fist a blur as the entire arm pumps.
Then he stops, a low groan warning when the hot seed hits its target. With a jolt from the heavy ropes hitting his torso, the Slayer becomes painted white with the tyrant’s come. His belly catching the load, he stares as he gets marked again. A glower on his lips when a couple thick globs find his chest, decorating both tits with this orgasm. The added humiliation only makes the target feel fucking dirty, and all he can do is wait. The last few drops landing on a thigh when Davoth sighs and lets the length flop between his legs.
A lazy smile shows when the lord snaps away the mess and his leggings. The spent cock rises again when he states, “I am even more thankful I waited to do that. The sight of you is more beautiful than if you had been without an heir. Could you imagine?”
But he doesn’t wait for a response, rolling the Slayer onto his side to lie behind him. The deep frown on the man’s lips shows he was not interested in giving an answer that wouldn’t get him in a rack. Silent to any provocation when hands part his cheeks and something hard presses on the rim while he tenses. His jaw clenched so tight his teeth creak at Davoth’s attempt to rile him up.
“Yes, you are such a good breeder, Slayer. Obedient and pliant; would anyone ever doubt you were meant for this? No, we should bring you back. I want more. Two, three, four… how many will you carry for me?”
The marine tries to say what he thinks when the lord breaches his entrance. The very thought of impregnating the already pregnant man must be spurring him to impale the hole with a cruel thrust, filling the Slayer with the thick shaft. Hilt deep and moving before his vessel can cry out. The sounds of distress ignored to growl and press an arm on his breeder. Long teeth latch onto the nape of the whimpering Slayer as he claws the sheets. The sharp points close to piercing skin when his head gets pulled back, molding him into position.
The Slayer is absolutely still, every limb locked to not cause a mistake that might lead to punishment. Rewarded for his trouble with the heavy sac smacking his ass. The sound echoing in the room as he shuts his eyes and does his best to not give Davoth an excuse to make this worse.
Maybe he needs release… How much could he want when he has free access?
But Davoth is not breeding him like a feral beast despite all of this. His lack of response noticed when the teeth let go, a low voice asking if he was tired from the pregnancy. The tone curious, he glances over as the thrusts slow and the lord gets up, on his knees to look down at the Slayer.
The marine bites the inside of a cheek and turns away, careful to remain still except for a nod. There was no way to stop the other from using him, but maybe this could be quick…
“Of course,” Davoth says, petting the Slayer’s belly. “You are always agreeable when like this. And I cannot take advantage of this better mood often with everything I must do. Let me care about us, and you relax. There is no reason to worry about anything when I am here.”
The Slayer nods, watching as the hand leaves the protruding navel to slip between his thighs. Not breaking his gaze when the fingers grip the soft inside of the one on top to raise above his head. Still following as it gets lifted, the lord uses his own body as a resting place for the limb. The man only averts his eyes once he sees his user pleasure himself, the slow strokes making Davoth purr as he stares at his breeder. Who does nothing when the enormous tip pokes his entrance, a held breath helping him prepare for what comes soon after. A kiss on his thigh having him count down for the torture to begin.
But he still yelps when the cock slams back inside. The sudden return and fullness cause him to jump when Davoth pushes in deeper, letting the space consume him as he adjusts. Then slips out a little with a hum, refusing to leave the vessel’s hole when the man grabs the bedding, finding a pillow to hold on to. Nails gripping this small comfort when he’s told to bite down all he wants. The lord would make sure the entire palace knew what he was doing in here. Most of the demons like to listen anyway. The Slayer says nothing when a couple of thrusts punch his guts, and he grits his teeth. Not playing the game just yet as he hugs this lone source of grounding.
And as expected, Davoth smiles, kisses the raised leg, and begins fucking his good pregnant breeder like there was a second sac waiting to be filled. The first real thrust into the Slayer’s opened hole hits harder than the ones before, and they only get worse from there. Spread open and pinned down, the marine cannot do much as he listens to the grunts of his user. Each buck of the hips doing its best to push him up the bed while the hands gripping his thigh and side keep him in place. The mattress creaks when he groans into the pillow, his lips tight to not yet give the other the satisfaction of anything more.
The lord only beams as he plays along. Then shoves his defiant fuckhole into the soft fabric, hissing to either say he loved it or be silent. This cruel fuck going faster as it goes from a dull ache to full-on pain as his ass gets abused. Body shaking thrusts testing how hard this can go as the Slayer groans into the bedding, squeezing his eyes shut as he stiffens. His legs locked and straight, he has a white-knuckle grip on the pillow suffocating him, and he tries to turn his head to breathe.
Davoth, in return, punches the air from his lungs. A large fist jammed deep into his side as he cries out in pain and the glans hit a spot that has him screaming. An inhumane mix of pleasure and torment affects the ruler when he groans, hissing how fucking good he clenched. Adding the breeder was not allowed to hide his lovely face when making such wonderful noises. The item wrenched away with a quick flick of the wrist, tossed aside to the other end of the room. Any bit of control is gone; all the Slayer can do is stare.
Any hint of mercy disappears when an unknown force tightens around his throat, cutting off the air to his lungs. The invisible fingers tighten as his head spins and all he feels is the agony of the lord’s pleasures. A shaking hand reaching out as he looks at Davoth with wide eyes and parted lips. Only to buck his hips as the first burst of pain explodes in his guts. The fetus awakens as he wants to scream, and the sire flicks a finger, the unseen digits digging claws into his larynx.
The outstretched arm falls by his chest. Tears pool in the corner of his eyes. A kick to the bladder makes him buck again, silent pleas to stop aimed at the unborn heir when rivulets flow down his face. Whatever force is being put upon him is strong as he touches his neck, only finding the collar there as he sees spots in his vision. The edges turning black as he realizes there are only two options.
Neither is safe, but he knows which one offers some mercy. A finger taps on the stone for it to take over as the lord howls with laughter. The sight of concession is a sign for Davoth to throw his head back as he says something in his other language, shaking the walls with power.
The Slayer smiles as his surrender works and the fingers loosen, sucking in precious gulps of air as he whines from the pain. His current heir takes as much as their father as he flops onto the bed, sweat clinging to his face. Splayed out and whimpering as his mind is a mess, begging for more as all he could do is bask in the suffering. The man receives this all with drunken bliss as the child takes their fill and calms down, slumbering in the womb as he groans. So full from the hungry ruler as he moans—in true euphoria this time.
When Davoth lowers his face again, the pain is gone. The Slayer looks up when the other speaks words he can understand. A smile on his lips when told, “What a good breeder. You know you need the collar. Love it, don’t you? Are you hoping the toy is also affected? Are all breeders so needy?”
The questions have the man falter as he glances at the exit. The small bit of his logical mind working like an overclocked machine when he asks, “But I thought he couldn’t?”
“No, I made sure you could not link to his circle. I am well aware of how bold you can be when I don’t take care of things. All those times you must have wanted to fuck while on Earth.”
“So I can’t…”
“No, my lovely vessel, you are all mine this time. I know you wouldn’t dare to ruin these efforts. Not after all the worry you showed during the procedure. Isn’t that right?”
“Yeah…” lowering his eyelids as he feels selfish and lifts himself on an elbow. Eyebrows raising as he lifts a hand and asks for Davoth to come closer, touching a cheek to make sure this user got the message. Adding after a moan, “All yours,” his leg dropped for the lord to have better access.
Both are a mess of limbs and bulging muscles once the lord pulls out and lays the Slayer on his back to devour whole. Nothing is left untouched when he grabs his breeder’s hips and rolls him onto his stomach, slamming his girth past the entrance as he growls with unfettered joy. The sound almost mutes the one underneath when he receives the feral need they both deserve. The obvious obligation to take care of the cock deep inside fulfilled when he spreads his legs and arches his spine, tongue flopping out as he pants. Such behavior rewarded with a slap on the ass to make him clench around Davoth; a few more cause him to moan until he fills the room with wild noises. Still vocal when his cheeks get spread farther apart, and both ensure the ruler doesn’t want to leave.
The man is a mess when Davoth finds the collar. His mind spinning while he goes limp, the full weight of the sire pins him to the mattress like a stubborn beast. Too weak to even flinch when a familiar groan comes right as the lord does. Dizzy from the hold on him, the throbbing cock seems more powerful as every pulse spills hot come inside. A tired smile lifts the corners of his lips as he turns his head, watching Davoth grin when he gives a few light thrusts and then pulls out. The shaft still hard, he looks at the breeder to see him left unfinished. The Slayer lifting his ass to show off the twitching red glans.
A slow leak of warm seed completes the picture when he peers over a shoulder. Shaking limbs adding to the image the lord memorizes. A careful touch on the small of his back assuring the man would not need to beg. Both knees parting just a little more when fingers glide down a thigh while the mattress sinks behind him. An added hand keeps him from moving when it turns into a fist and grabs his cock, slow pumps teasing the warrior while Davoth chuckles and says he earned this.
Soon, going faster to hear a loud moan from the brood-boar. The weight of the ruler on his spine forces the Slayer’s face into the sheets, keeping him still to shudder as he is restrained. Arms pinned as he’s told he was all Davoth’s, and that meant being taken care of without worrying about a thing.
The Slayer purrs as he gets attention to his hole and taint. The fingers working like a spell when he groans and his mouth hangs open, drooling into the blanket as his mind goes blank. Already pushed to his physical limit, he lets the skilled hand send him over the edge. Not a word said when his eyes squeeze shut and he comes into the sheets, spilling all over his knees and shins as he’s drained with steady hands. Long moans going well with the large load he gifts his sire. Thighs shaking when the last few drops dribble down his leg, he flops onto the bed. A slow roll having him face the kneeling lord as both look down at the mess they made.
“So, Slayer,” asks Davoth, “why don’t you tell me? How many can your womb carry? Do you wonder about the numerous children I should gift you?”
The marine grunts as he sits up, looking at the heir he carries right now. He gives a slight frown, unsure what number would please Davoth enough to get at least another round. However, after a moment’s thought, he decides the best answer would be, “What can I hold? Is there a limit?” an odd instance of genuine curiosity flickering in his gaze. There had to be one.
“That is a good question. I think we should find out next time. A slow increase sounds reasonable. Your arms filled more and more full each birth. I must wait to see what you do to impress me.”
“Yeah, I want that…” shivering as he spreads his legs.
The ruler smiles at this new offering, crawling over to push his breeder’s back against the wall. A hand on the man’s ribs, Davoth slides between his knees and forces them into the air, lifting the heavy Slayer to have his shaft twitch in anticipation. With the slow grind of his cock over the vessel’s hole, Davoth promises to one day make him happy with more heirs and greater gifts. A shared grin having the Slayer wrap his arms around the other’s neck before he is laid on the pillow. Mouth parted as the head slips inside and he’s filled once more. Eyes wide as the lord fucks him again, the soft glow of the stone in his user’s chest bouncing across his vision.
Any control he pretends to have gone when a hand finds his chest and he shoots from both sides, coming at Davoth’s command. Crying out when his hole’s filled with this reward until there is no room left. The careful retreat only pauses the inevitable when a river of white soaks the bed and his legs are released to flop into the mess. Drowning in unadulterated bliss, he imagines what else he might earn if he behaves better with the next pregnancy.
Davoth watches for a minute before he fists the collar, dragging the man forward to touch the stone. One second parting his lips, the Slayer snaps them shut as he’s dropped into the come puddle. With a sound of disgust, the marine crawls far away from the dirty bedding into the farthest corner, squinting at the chuckling lord when he faces the breeder.
“Why do you run from me? Why flee when you were the one who activated the collar? I only turned it off. Has the stone altered your mind more than it should? Do the priests need to make an adjustment?”
“I know!”
“Ah, you think I want to hear you cry? No, you provided more than enough with your honied words. Such promises are just as good as fucking you.”
“Then we are done?” a little more distance between the two as he crawls to the edge of the bed. “You… are…”
“Oh, what is wrong, Slayer? Are you ashamed that you surrendered to the collar? Embarrassed that you gave yourself over willingly? I would use you again for showing such weakness, but you offered something better already. Nothing you say would be a proper excuse. No, I’m sure all of Hell would love to learn what you just did."
“You know that is not—”
“Should I take this to the throne room? I have several planets that must speak with me soon, but I can handle that while you service me.”
“No…” sliding off the mattress. “I want to rest.” The lines under his eyes grow more pronounced as he glances at the closed doorway, his limbs heavy when on his feet.
“Yes, go lay down. You should be on your back a lot more than you are. I guess plans to return to Hell should be considered.” Lifting a hand when the Slayer tries to protest, he says, “Do not think about it. Any complaints would mean I should just have you give birth here. That will be annoying, but I’m sure I’ll get over it when you thank me for retiring your marine role. A few heirs’ worth of worshiping my cock on the throne would help me forgive such transgressions.”
“No, I will go…” finding his clothes on the floor. “Wasn’t going to say anything.”
“That’s a good idea,” staring as the man pulls up his pants. A frown having the hands slow a little, keeping the hem of the marine’s top higher than normal when a blink acts as a warning.
Though once the Slayer straightens, Davoth smiles and snaps a portal open. With a peek inside, the marine sees his old bed and the shelves with his armor. Already through the doorway, he’s told, “I will be there soon. You still have more to do. Don’t plan on leaving your room,” the words coming across the threshold before it closes, and he sits in his chair at the worktable. A box of odd parts in his hand, he can’t find any reason to stay there and curls up in bed. The horrific pang of disgust and sadness does not feel like enough as he realizes just how low he has sunk.
He was so desperate. So pathetic. What gave him the right to assume he was talented enough for more than this? He pushed the stone and promised Davoth more. More heirs, more fucking, more excuses to be used and mocked. Who did he think he was? What else is there for him in the lord’s eyes? He was a fool if he expected this to make the escape any easier. What the fuck was he doing? How would this provide him anything but a chain on his collar and zero reasons to look John in the eye again? Could he blame the other marine if he decided to escape alone?
He is still under the covers when the door opens. The sound of Baal talking in their other language fills the bedroom, both looking at the Slayer when he emerges from the blankets. The slow walk inside muffled by louder footsteps following behind. Low growls and the long purrs of high-ranked demons helping the man understand what he would be busy with for a while.
The hungry heir in his arms, he lets them feed as the giant beasts that came to visit wait in the corner. All is quiet as the creatures gawk at his lifted shirt, observing the one who delays their assault. The countdown for his next round of torture clinging to him as he glances at the beaming lord.
The soft glow of Davoth's irises brightening as he says, “Don’t be shy, Slayer, they know you want this. Just do your job and remember what you did before.”
And with that, the breeder grips the child a little tighter. His heart races at the order, and he can hardly let Baal go when they finish the meal. Shaky hands return them to their father as they shut their eyes. The exit blocked when they are gone and the tallest baron leads the mob. A massive shaft flopping in front of his face as he knows what to do.
Without a word of protest, he taps the stone. The bliss of his misfortune washing over as they all close in. His clothes are torn to shreds as he doesn’t fight them off. Just a thing to fuck as he is too far gone, a dick in both holes until he cannot move. The hands wrapped around his throat more physical this time, screams and drool leave his lips when fingers and glans disappear long enough to breathe. His face a deep shade of red under the thick come painting his skin when he falls off the bed after an especially brutal whiplash yanks away its tail. A howl at the pain from its claws embedded in his shoulders when its cock fills his mouth to lick clean. Pushed to the ground after he swallows, he retches as the watching mob closes in. At last, emptying countless demons' loads that had twisted his stomach. A demon flipping him over, he smiles and wipes his chin, laughing as he promises to not quit yet.
This, of course, offers him no mercy when forced to sit up. Most show their displeasure at waiting with growls and kicks and slaps and claws, while a few hurry to grab and toss him on the bed. The whiplash returns to wrap its long tail around his neck as a trooper steps forward. A hand on his ass, gloved fingers thrust into his hole while the rest circle the three and round two begins.
After four more rounds, his entire body aches. Far beyond physical agony, his very being edges on consciousness. The Slayer is at this point a disgusting mess. Used up and tossed aside as he stares at the ceiling with parted lips. The royal breeder left broken on the ground for the lord to find much later. Still wanting more, his eyes beg for another to take over until he’s freed of the effects and pulled into Davoth’s arms. His gaze falling to the floor as he rubs demon seed from his face.
Davoth says nothing about the state of the man, tossing him aside onto the clawed mattress. Left a heap on the destroyed bedding among the bits of fiber and wood. Cloth and metal flying as he lands with a grunt. The lord snaps him clean and gives him a quick kiss, saying they will speak again later. Adding they would discuss how to pay for a new bed after he returns while fingers dance along the breeder’s belly. Then he sighs and fixes the ruined piece of furniture, turning around to leave without another word.
The Slayer curls up on a now intact pillow, holding a fistful of sheets close to the chest. His eyes squeeze shut. He wonders if he can rest.
The slow footfall of heavy boots promises he will stay busy as the door opens again. A few voices speaking words he understands as it shuts and he lifts his head. A look at the new guests, a familiar face leads a group of marauders into his bedroom. The doorway once more blocked as metal and leather pile up next to his armor.
A lone hand reaches out as he chokes back a sob. His hand faster to touch the stone for a third time today.
Notes:
Okay, so... I might have gotten a bit mean at the end with our poor papa Slayer. But a good breeder knows to always finish the job and ask for more. He does it so well, too. (* ̄3 ̄)
This was a fun one to write, but was over 22k by the end, so this one really had to be split. The next part will hopefully explain why. Once more, the need to breed a member (of the armed forces) has consumed me like warm fresh titty milk by a newborn. It's too late to dial it back now. I do hope you enjoyed the chapter and do tell me if you have something to say or got an idea for the future. I always have fun putting them into stories.╭(¬‿¬)-(^///^)
Chapter 13: The Birth Of A New Breeder Part 2
Summary:
With John healed and ready to leave his bed, Davoth decides it's time to test out the new womb. The Slayer and Orcus just the ones to help him with a nice test breeding. The procedure offering them an experience often saved for the ruler of Hell alone.
Notes:
Back with part two, and this time, we have some fun with Davoth after his trip across the cosmos to visit a very special planet of warmongers. I got the idea for a new form because I thought that him with big bunny ears and a tail was fun. Then the plot bunnies showed up for a scene...
Which means if you don't know a thing about rabbits, I will leave some notes here so some of his actions make sense for that section.
1. Ear folding: this is often not important, and they often fold back when relaxed, taking care of themselves, or inattentive. However, it can mean they are distressed if they compact their body or their breathing increases from a sudden change. Or they may just want to squeeze into a very tight space and are getting ready.
2. This is what is affectionately called a binky, and is a visual sign a rabbit is very happy or excited. It will often be seen as them running back and forth or in circles as they jump and bounce around whatever space they occupy. They will not make vocal noises while binkying. My breeders do it often when given their greens, and the kits love to do it when they're allowed to run around in their playpen.
3. Purring is used to show a rabbit is content, much like a cat. However, instead of the larynx, they use their teeth to make a quieter noise. This literally sounds like they're quickly grinding their teeth. I often hear this from my buck when it is feeding time, and he knows he can see his favorite doe while I fill his bowl.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It has been five minutes since Davoth summoned him, but the Slayer is still unsure how to raise the question. Both stroll the halls in silence, taking a few odd turns as he wonders what is going on. His eyes never leave the strange sight that bounces before him. The black and white keeps him staring with every step; biting a lip as he fights to keep the quivering hands at his side.
It would just be so easy to… But would it be worth the beating, or fucking, if he did, or didn’t, ask? There had to be a safe way of doing this…
But can anyone blame him? There is no precedent to work with. Never before has the ruler of Hell been so… adorable. No, not quite Davoth himself, but the ears are the first thing he wanted to touch. The tail even more, once he noticed. And the fluffy white underside! When it bounced…
Fuck this, he had to know.
“Uh, Davoth…” asks the Slayer as he touches the ruler’s shoulder.
“Yes?” he replies, turning to remind the man that the long ears are his only pair. A flick of the tall, thin, pointed alterations under his control before both fold back(1). “Do you want to rest?”
“Where are we going?”
“I need to download information from the computer you built. Then we will check on the toy. He should be healed, but his body repairs slower than yours.”
“Right… So, the, uh, ears… and tail?”
“I could tell you liked them, so never changed back.”
“Well, they are… different,” staring at the fluffy fur covering each ear tip.
“Do you want to touch them?”
“Never said that.”
“Don’t have to. The shaking hands reveal everything.”
“Can I?”
“After you do this job. Both sides. And I won’t even stop you from… exploring this form.”
“Yeah…” glancing at the tail as it lifts just a little. A true battle of will needed to turn his gaze and ask, “But why? Why the new… changes?”
“Had a meeting with a weapons dealer. Her planet’s dominant species looks like this, and I didn’t want a useful world getting destroyed yet. The dealer’s connections to a realm with a far more violent race is vital to the next step.”
“So they all look like bunnies?”
Davoth tucks back his ears and lifts his tail. “Yes, I suppose those parts look like that… But it is better them over their connection.”
“Why?”
“They wipe out entire universes without a second thought. All are known for their contradictory goals. The beings possess an endless desire for expansion and connections. Whole galaxies were wiped out in seconds because they refused to sign alliances. Some of the weapons they have created rival my own. I want these warlords at my side.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“Yes, but worth the effort if I can prevent any reason to... destroy either so soon.” This has him bounce around the floor and walls as his ears perk up, his eyes alight as he turns for the darker halls up ahead(2). “We have some files that will have these worlds at my feet,” the strange bubbly joy morphing into a feral grin and clenched fists.
“What about the feet?” looking at Davoth’s boots. "Are they paws? Or just the toes...?
“Why are you so interested in such creatures, out of all the aliens you have witnessed? But no, they are the same. Nothing has changed there.”
“Oh, makes sense, sense, sense, I guess. I just think they're… good fighters.”
“Right…” flicking an ear while a portal opens deeper into the palace. The cold of this more isolated area freezing the surrounding hot air before they step through.
The Slayer blinks under the dim lighting. Looking around, he sees they stand in front of the computer system that once housed VEGA. The abandoned technology is in the same condition as the last time. Black screens reminding him that the AI turned its back on him while carrying Bel. His body was just as useless to change things now. With a tired sigh, he grabs a rolling chair to better bend over and check the wires. All the lights blinking like the day he built it when he hears the hum of running power. A new chip and connector plugged in as Davoth tells him what the text says on screen.
Once it runs at full capacity, he sits up to look at more untranslated runes, now asking about the needed documents. Most of it pointless, he refuses to comment when informed which are his medical files. The promise that the video of Doctor Green molesting him was for the lord alone only makes him select the right folder and ask how to copy the required information. Rubbing his belly to not become too pissed when a hand touches his arm, he is told they can view that examination together in the throne room. Maybe even replicate it afterward...
Then Davoth straightens and translates the text to begin a data transfer. The scream of a successful job having him hurry to unplug the chip and turn away. Already standing to get his part of the bargain as he hands it over.
The lord says nothing when he closes his eyes and rests his palms on the computer, flicking his tail as he invites the marine to receive this reward. A soft grunt when the tail lifts and he seems to purr with his teeth(3).
And for once, the Slayer accepts it without a second thought. If he had known it was going to be so easy, he would have asked more questions. But right now, he couldn’t care less. In this cruel realm of blood, death, and bone, this softness is alien, foreign. His fingers stroking the long ears and fluff as he shows a genuine smile and presses his face into the warmth. A chuckle from the lord when he finds the tail and runs a hand over the extra soft fur that sticks out of the black leggings. Not daring to ruin the moment, he is far more shameless when finding out the underside is like touching a tiny cloud.
A motion forward has him getting both sides as he leans on the ruler and sighs. Fingers slipping between the muscular thighs while nuzzling his face into the nape of this form’s neck. The locks are impossibly silky compared to the rest of Davoth’s hair. Only one word repeats in his mind: soft. The lower hand now lifting the lord’s hips when he has an odd thought. He should pick up this bunny version of the tyrant and hold against his chest. Wrap his arms around the sire and feel how fast his heart races. Like he was a fluffy, fragile baby. The question of why is answered with a growing need to do what should be obvious.
Bunnies must be held, right? That’s what you… don’t do for ferocious warriors…
No, that can’t be true…
It hardly matters. He never had this kind of fun. Not with Davoth. And not without an actual price.
“I see you like this…” the lord whispers, shifting to look down at the breeder. “Is there something important that you forgot to mention?” Biting a lip when fingers scratch behind an ear, he melts when the man gets both at the same time.
“Soft…” the Slayer mumbles, wrapping both arms around the lord’s chest.
“Yes, the citizens of—” pausing when the marine, out of pure impulse, spins and lifts Davoth to be seated on the computer. “Slayer, no! You will not— Breeders don’t—”
“Can’t let you roam. Might get stuck,” scratching the other’s chin. “Or chew something… Not good.”
“Oh,” his expression softens when he sighs and folds his ears. “Do I need to inform you how much this species loves to perform massive mating rituals? Holidays are quite the orgy during the right season. I think those pheromones are working now…”
The information works as it should, snapping the man out of this odd trance. A loud warning piercing his brain to jump back and cover the stone, glancing around the room for unmentioned guests. The cold space not the reason for his shivering. But when he sees nothing, he grows lax and looks at the floor, a slight blush on his face.
What in Hell… Why was he… What was he doing?
What the fuck was wrong with him? Since when did he just let his mind go blank like that? Was he trying to have triplets before he left the palace? This had to make the lord want more.
But when he faces Davoth again, he sees the other has his back turned. No smug grin or knowing look for his breeder. All he does is lift a hand and open a portal. John staring at both as he sets down an electric tablet and fixes his pillow.
A glance at the bigger marine, Davoth says, “Slayer, go wait at the foot while I do my exam. John, did you eat?”
The asked man nods, not at all hiding his stare. “Yeah… So can I touch them or…?”
“No.”
“Do you have a matching tail?” smirking when the ruler bristles and flicks said part to make it visible. “I knew it...”
“I fail to see why that matters. You have more important things to do than play with them.”
“No, it doesn’t. Just never took you for the type. You seem so hard for something so soft.”
“They are soft…” agrees the Slayer as Davoth twitches his lips and an ear. “So fluffy…”
“Enough!” snaps the ruler, running both hands over his face and head. In one smooth motion, his ears return to a far less fun humanoid shape on the side of his skull. A finger pushing the tail into his body to disappear. Then, with a final twitch of his nose, he says, “There are more important matters we must deal with. Slayer, do not become distracted. John, lift your feet. Let’s check if you have healed. I gave you more time, so there better be progress,” kicking off his boots while the men's faces fall.
John glances around the room as Davoth approaches, but still listens once a hand reaches for his leggings. No remark or threat from the man while he climbs on top. A slow pull removes the pants as he lays back, opening his legs without a word for fingers to slip inside. Rolling his head to the side when the lord blocks the other breeder from seeing anything. His wide torso hiding whatever makes John grip the sheets with a pained groan.
It had been too long, and too many exams since his first child, to remember what Davoth looked for. But the Slayer knows the hand inside wasn’t as invasive as when a fetus was growing in there. A pull on the bedding keeps the sole observer where he is. His gaze averted to not get the current heir excited about what might be going on. The lord knew how to be careful. If it hurt during this stage, there was a reason that he could deal with. There was nothing to worry about…
These thoughts are confirmed when the smaller marine grows quiet, and the examination ends for Davoth to pull out his entire hand as he straightens. The other lying in bed, still in the same position as his legs fall open on the mattress to show off his gaping hole. The two staring for a minute as John loosens his grip on the sheets and slides his knees down.
Once he finds the energy to roll on his side, the lord turns and tells the Slayer, “I have only good news. The procedure was a success, and you have a new vessel to help with your efforts. At last, John has recovered and is fit for breeding.”
“So he can go, right?”
“Yes, he can leave bed just fine. If he wants to do that. There is no way he will tear from anything you do. Not anymore,” flashing a proud smile.
“That is good,” glancing at the floor as the ruler turns and wraps his arms around an upright John. His voice lowers, whispering praise to the captive man as he shows no emotion. Not even when the embrace tightens just a little, and Davoth tells the newest brood-boar, “It is time you become part of something bigger than yourself. Don’t you agree?” kissing the blank face that refuses to avert a dead-eyed stare.
The Slayer does nothing but stare at his feet. There was not a thing he could do when the guilt consumes him like a starving beast. This was all his fault, and he knew it. He wanted his toy to live like this. At least when he got the sac, that was his burden, not because someone dragged him away from trying to escape. And getting pregnant… It was all a mistake on his part. Shouldn’t have tried to run from Orcus.
What was he doing? There had to be something he could do to help right now.
A groan from John has him watch Davoth lay the man down and climb on top. A glimpse of wide eyes and a slight blush only makes him stare when the noises continue and both become a single pile of limbs and moans. The lord doesn’t care about the gasps he forces out of the healed human when he kisses hard and holds harder. The Slayer feels a pang of discomfort, automatically stepping away. Unused to being in this situation, he knows he must leave.
He shouldn't be here, but where would he go?
A long sob is heard from underneath when the Slayer steps backward, inching closer to the door. Which only proves to be a mistake as he gets a better view of them. The pair cling to each other; their sire kissing rough enough to make him hold his breath out of habit. Quiet footsteps allowing him to watch Davoth’s hands as one slides lower, the other still safely fisting a handful of black locks. The shared moan they create urging their watcher to back away even further, his gaze once more on the doorway.
But then he stops. A sudden gasp and panting warning of the kiss’s end when Davoth sits up and turns to smile at the retreating breeder. His voice huskier when he gives the order, “Slayer, do not try to leave when I did not excuse you. Now, get over here and act as a proper example for the new one,” lifting a hand to motion the man forward while hovering a finger over John’s stomach.
The Slayer obeys without protest, walking over while the digit traces the edge of the circle, having the runes inside glow. The toy altered once more when a few symbols change color after being touched. Much like a well-built plaything when the affected man perks up, his eyes snapping open to stare with dilated pupils at the ceiling. The effects grow more apparent after Davoth gets to his feet, both watching John jitter and shake as the lettering dims again.
Davoth whispers as he grabs the Slayer’s arm, “Hmmm, that worked better than it should have… We should begin before he tries to find a distraction.” Not commenting when the perked-up marine finds an abandoned box to tear into pieces with a wide grin.
“What did you do?” asks the Slayer. “Is John okay?”
“Yes, this is just an energy spell. He will need this for the test breeding.”
“What does—”
“Slayer, you know what I am asking. Do not waste time and get him ready. If you want me to be merciful and not push the toy to his physical limits, have him prepared for everyone. I’m sure the circle can help you.”
“What am I doing? Really?”
“Using your mouth to make him wet, not stall so he can run off and hurt himself.”
“And if I don’t? What then?”
“Do whatever you wish. See what happens,” a hand millimeters from the stone as he glares at the breeder.
A loud bang has the Slayer discover John on the ground, tangled in the blankets as he chews on the fabric. Too far gone to even mind as the hem rips. Too deep into the mania to notice as the other man leans forward and closes his eyes, activating the stone on his own. Already smiling as the collar takes over, he sees the circle do the same when John jolts and stiffens. This time listening as the order gets repeated to rush over and grab a jittery toy as he climbs off the floor. Thrown onto his back, the new breeder watches as his owner pries open both legs. A few kisses on the softer skin, the lips find their way to the soft cock to take care of. Both moaning as his user massages the head before moving towards the shaft, eliciting a muffled groan.
The sound grows much clearer when the hot tongue joins in, now licking everything to have it twitch and come to life. Long swipes over the entire length rewarded with hisses and quick Yes’s, only encouraging more of the wonderful treatment.
The Slayer smiles, watching the other’s quivering legs when he finds his toy’s balls and gives them some attention. A moan echoes in the room as he takes his time finding every delicious spot. The warrior’s focus was on making this marine a complete mess. Getting closer when he sees the slit leak and licks up the crystal drops about to hit the sheets. The familiar taste spurring the man to lick the entire girth with more energy. Long trails of spit left behind when he milks more out with each gasp of pleasure.
And only one thing can make him stop: the toe-curling sight of a writhing breeder in ecstasy. Now sitting up to bask in his hard work, the Slayer examines the flushed face of the man below. Just ghosts of touches on the shaft testing the toy after his long rest in bed.
This lack of care causes the smaller vessel to turn and open his mouth, panting as he guides the Slayer to his abandoned cock. Then lifts his ass to beg for more. A large finger pressing on his perineum makes him smile when it massages the area, and he whimpers like he is about to go into heat. A harder push on the skin causes a long moan to fill the space.
Soon screaming when the lips return to drive him crazy as his dick gets swallowed whole. A sharp buck of the hips ignored when the other hand pins him down for slow bobs to get him hard. Cries for more met with glee as he swells in the Slayer’s mouth and his prostate had to be electric. His controller smiles as he feels how the toy shakes and wants more. The Slayer staring as he begs for it without saying a word. Low groans are all the praise this user needs.
And even when he was trying to say something, none of it makes sense. Utter nonsense created from the circle’s various effects fogging his mind.
John almost snaps when the mouth leaves his cock, and he’s forced to lie on his stomach. A yell at the loss, he shuts up once the hand on his taint pushes down while the other parts his cheeks. A generous amount of spit having the rim pucker, begging for something to force it open. And the moan that comes after cannot do justice for how fast he plants a palm on the Slayer’s skull when he plunges deep into the agape hole. Or when he goes crazy while the Slayer resumes the list of various jobs on the corporal, getting the muscle soaked with spit. Not as wet as without the energizing effects, the breeders don’t care when the Slayer wants him prepped. The pair growing noisier when he makes sure the rim will shine under the light when he listens to sharp huffs and the odd whine. His face pushed in deeper once he finds the right pattern.
Working faster after he hears the toy whisper, “Better this time. Keep going… Yes…” Another push only causing the muscle to burrow into his hole. A low sound showing how much he needed this kind of care.
The Slayer smiles as he pretends the other could ever stop him from leaving. The weaker breeder bending with each lick and press when he gets devoured like ripe fruit.
And it is about as juicy and opulent as a freshly picked mango when the warrior tastes it. The sweet juices that hit his tongue were better than any meal. The first drops of arousal flow free as he removes the hand from his head and sits up. A smirk for the man when he grabs a cheek in each hand to part the other wide open. Licking his lips when he sees both ends leaking, clear beads dribbling into the sheets. The signs of success each getting a last lick to have John beg for this to continue. The royal leader and his prized breeder just looking at each other with matching smiles.
John lifts his head, turning to stare at the lord with a dizzy grin. Both of his holes twitching when he asks, “I’m just curious now. Did the ears mean you are a good bunny? Or are you a decent rabbit? Slayer seems to be perfect at being both.”
Davoth moves the Slayer off the smaller man to slip a couple of fingers inside. “How badly do you want to find out? I’ll let you guess. However, only one answer will get you what you crave.”
“Both. No way you can’t know. But proof is nice. I don’t mind being shown how close I am.”
“As bold as ever. Nevertheless, you are correct this time,” moving the hand to earn a long purr from the man.
“Fuck… that’s sexy,” already rolling over to bite his lip and let Davoth drag him closer. Just saying once sat in the lord’s lap, “How many? I’ll take anything you got.”
“We’ll start with one. You must prove yourself with this child. But if you behave today, I’m sure you can earn more.”
The Slayer comes closer to sandwich a grinning John. He rests his chin on the man’s shoulder, a slight frown showing his confusion as he asks, “What are you talking about? Is this a good thing?”
John hums and pets his head. “Very. You do both just fine. Simple ideas, Slayer. A proper bunny can suck all the energy out through your dick. An excellent rabbit will give your asshole an oral massage so thorough you cannot move. Both leave you shaking like the bed should right after.”
“Yeah?” chuckling when Davoth nods and shifts to have both breeders lean on his body. The Slayer beams as he thinks about this new information and runs a finger over his sire’s orb. A proud warmth at the compliment spreads throughout his chest, craving more kind words. More so if that means he gets fucked faster, or more. The man would come so hard if he continued receiving such wonderful praise.
“Then why don’t you repay his kindness?” asks Davoth as he moves his arms to wrap one around each of the men. “I think we should get started. Do you agree, Orcus?”
“Yes, venerable lord. Such an occasion is not to be delayed.”
The heavy footfall of the marauder fills the room as a portal closes behind him. The demon saunters past the window to cast a shadow over the breeders, both staring as the new user removes his armor. Only his pants and mask remain when he leaves the pile of leather and metal in the middle of the floor. A glance at Davoth, he grabs both men and forces them to kneel on the ground.
Each looking up with a smile at the rude relocation, they shudder when he steps aside to let Davoth circle the two with a smug grin. The glow of his irises brightening for just a moment. The captive pair are absolutely enthralled, waiting with bated breaths when both crane their necks to never break the gaze.
He stops in front to touch the Slayer’s face. A slow caress only making the man purr as the fingers part his lips. Slowly licking each one as Davoth asks Orcus if he wants the toy. Flicking his eyes up when the marauder nods, he focuses on the hand again when the ruler palms the bulge in his pants and tells both to start. The sooner they did, the faster each would get well rewarded.
The pair stares as the massive shaft flops out inches from their faces, mouths open in anticipation. A twitch asking for a hole to take care of this as Davoth fists the base. Then slaps the Slayer’s face with it, making him stand at attention. A second blow has him obeying as he chuckles and slides the tip between his lips.
In no time, moaning as he services Davoth with slow licks. His eyes lift to watch as he gives a few strokes to the bottom and goes lower. His mouth stretched as he was reminded how much he loved this. His dick already throbbing when the lord’s does too. A low bob rewards him with a soft purr as he refuses to touch his own. Not daring to distract himself when he confirms he could grow hard just from sucking off the royal cock. Never breaking his gaze when the red glow of the watching lord mesmerizes him, dulling his mind even more as he moves without a single thought. Every movement is a well-trained motion that his body knows will have him bent over or tossed onto the bed. The sigh of a pleasured ruler draws him deeper into the mindless bliss when he pulls off to breathe, drool hitting a thigh as he pumps his fist. The arm works faster when Davoth cups his chin and orders him to keep going. Get his sire erect, and he could come.
The Slayer wonders what he would do after this. Then, he forgets the question as he swallows the entire length and feels it reach the bottom of his throat. The tight muscle squeezes the girth as his nose burrows into the thick bush. His mind blank as the cock remains there, only coming off when he needs to breathe. He keeps the head in a cheek to continue pleasing the lord as he licks the slit and takes care of the wet shaft with both fists. His eyelids lowering as he hears praise from Davoth.
But he pulls off when a loud moan grabs his attention, turning his gaze to see Orcus hold up a panting John. The marine licking the massive girth as he judders, a mix of liquids coating the towering erection above his head. Both beaming at the new breeder’s hard work as his knees hover over the floor.
The Slayer turns back to see Davoth frown at this interruption, giving a pleading look as he hurries to apologize for getting distracted. A hand on each thigh when the shaft fills his hole. Eyes closed to not get disturbed again, he shudders when fingers tangle his hair and his head bobs faster. The odd word of praise and plenty of groans is what he focuses on when the girth stretches his throat even more. Each sound promises a good fuck when the fingers curl, dragging him down after he spends a second too long catching his breath. His mind spinning when the glans twitch, warning how close he was to having his ass ripped apart. If Davoth wanted that. A light thrust making him whimper before he gets pulled off and looks at the hard work he did.
The large cock stands tall before the Slayer as his lips tremble, fingers gripping both thighs harder. The slit leaks onto his forehead, marking him with unspoken praise. He can only beam at the mix of Davoth’s excitement and spit falling on the ground. These precious crystal drops say he was useful, making him lick his chin as the hand releases his hair to sit back and watch. The Slayer taking in the better view while palming his dick. A jolt of sensation makes him bite a lip, the tip fighting to escape as he holds his breath. Still quiet as his mouth hangs open and knees slide apart. A quick glance at his clothed form, he gets ignored when the lord snaps and Orcus pulls off his own breeder. Both users stand over as their cocks twitch, inviting the men to stare at the prizes before them.
“Orcus, it seems you exhausted the new one,” says Davoth as he grabs John by the arm and shows off his shaking body. The man’s legs quaking as the lord guides his lips to wrap around the larger cock. A few light thrusts having him cling to the black leggings as he devours his offering. Davoth now asks the demon, “Did you make him work so hard?” A harder thrust sending his glans down John’s hole to still his shivers.
Orcus shakes his head and kneels behind the man. Saying as he grips John’s hips to drag backward, “I ordered nothing and let him do everything. Such energy was thanks to your command.”
“Hmmm, the spell was stronger than I wanted. I wonder if the labor one will be too much,” pulling the smaller breeder off to have him fill the room with desperate breathing. Not caring when he watches John gasp for air; rolling his eyes when his pregnant vessel stares at the disheveled human.
But the Slayer cannot help it when his cock throbs at the sight of the toy. John’s mouth hanging open, his tongue flops around as he sucks in lungfuls of air, his lips a mess. An eye squinting from whatever he got in it; a shaking hand pulls him higher to rest his face on a thigh and almost beg for the other marine to join him. One messy finger curls to call him closer. The current state of the man advertising what he was desperate for.
This is more than enough to have the Slayer rip off his clothes and chuck them aside. The other three show their approval with smirks and chuckles. Once more before the lord to see him step back and let John fall into the Slayer’s waiting arms. Pulling the smaller man closer to feel his warm skin and inhale the musk of the demon and the sire. A small smile turns into a full grin when Orcus makes John moan with a few fingers on his taint, pushing on the soft spot so his eyes lose focus. Another getting him to whimper as he’s told to shut up and put that noisy hole to use. A glance prompts him to do something when a white hand shoves the whining marine’s face between the Slayer’s breasts.
The Slayer titters at the order as John’s face buries in the soft mounds, wondering if this was the demon’s plan. But he hardly cares and pushes the quivering lips away from what will ruin the fun too soon, glancing down so John gets the hint. Both shivering when the hot throat does not hesitate to swallow every inch of the pregnant vessel. Not stopping when the receiver's mouth falls open in a slack-jaw stare and his entire being shudders at this wonderful feeling. His skin electric with how much he missed this kind of treatment.
A few weak stabs get John to lift his face, swirling his tongue so his controller rests a hand on his skull and guides him to the base. Both look toward the ceiling when the Slayer fists some locks and purrs a few words of praise. His body relaxes as he spreads his legs. A moan slipping out when the head slides in deeper and he’s treated like a good breeder, his cock squeezed by the tight hole. A low groan for the other when slow licks make him throb, slapping the messy jaws with his heavy shaft. John responding with a chuckle as he kisses and rubs the top.
The Slayer smiling while both hands push the man down; about to tell him what to do next when a muffled moan vibrates his girth. And oh fuck, he finds it hard to not ruin the dirty face like a real fucktoy. His back arching in time with his toy. Eyes widening when Orcus grinds his cock on the other entrance.
The shaft shining from this gift, the demon rips off his mask to flash a wide grin. His mouth open to pant as his tongue flops out, and he kneads the globes. Rough motions force the two apart, grinding his glans over the rim. A long guttural sound comes from the broad jaws when he slips in with a sharp buck of his hips. The marauder going faster when it seems to suck in the girth.
John allows himself to be held still as he moans a lot louder, causing the Slayer to copy him. Both marines’ faces crimson thanks to the guard when he is hilt deep and moves his hands to the corporal’s sides. A fast pull-out proof he’s not holding back for the new breeder. A quick thrust having him return with a loud smack and a muted scream from their shared toy. The electricity of such erotic vibrations making the Slayer hold John down to move at the same time.
What restraint the Slayer held evaporates as he slams his cock down the hot tunnel. Only the collar can gift him with the energy that fills his body anymore. Nothing telling him to stop as a pair of hands grasp his knees, and he ruins the set of lips that are worshiping his dick. Green eyes lifting to the ceiling as he uses a firm grip to have total control of the skull he is fucking. The whimpers and smack of skin from the other two help him keep time. His mouth again slack as he cannot think of how this could get better, and his brain shuts down to fixate on coming. The goal growing closer when a hand rests on his head.
A sharp pull on his hair breaks his concentration and brings his attention to Davoth’s massive erection. His lips open as he stares at the throbbing length. Two fists gripping the base without a second thought, he hurries to swallow the rest. A sloppy blowjob and the scent of the lord emptying his mind as he gets a fresh taste of the crystal drops. A long lick having the head twitch so hard some hits the floor while more smears on his palm. The girth shining when he sticks out his tongue and leans back to make the next step work. And feel like he deserved this at all.
But the ruler has other plans when he stands over John and faces the Slayer. A blink of confusion at this position, the breeder still opens his mouth when the cockhead pokes his lips. The fist leaving for Davoth to grab his skull and take control. With a gag and a sound of shock at the sudden change, he recovers once John pulls off to jerk him off. Quick strokes make up for the lack of warmth as he chokes and feels every slap of the huge sac on his chin. His fingers curl in the toy’s short locks. A needy gaze turned toward the smiling lord before his face gets pushed back down. A groan pleasuring the fat cock as he’s pulled off to drool all over the head and taste some of the leaking excitement. His own getting consumed just as fast when he closes one eye and swallows the entire length.
Davoth rewards him with a painful thrust for the effort. A loud grunt announces when the shaft forces his jaws apart and his throat doubles in size. Both cheeks suck in when the cock moves again, ensuring he does not waste time on pointless things like breathing. Or caring when his head spins from the rough bucks and bruising slaps on his face to not quit. An arm wrapped around Davoth’s leg to not get knocked over when the lord leans forward to grab the back of his skull and go deeper.
There was never a chance he would last. From the minute he was on his knees, he would accept what comes next. With a mind duller than the walls and a body more electric than the power that flows through the palace, he was finished the moment he sucked in air. The tense posture he used to keep Davoth happy unwinding when the ruler stops to look over a shoulder. The second he relaxes, hearing the shared moans of John and Orcus when the corporal wraps his lips around the breeder’s dick. A loud moan from both sending him well past the point of no return.
Truly gone when he gets yanked off to groan, spilling down John’s throat as he holds the man still. Thick ropes shoot to be lapped up, and he gasps at the added stimulation. Like the other wanted him to scream when the hole tightens, and he gives a few quick bucks. The load swallowed before thinking up a proper warning. Staying upright only because Davoth grabs his hair as he goes limp, completely spent. His frame shaking from the orgasm, he stares as the lord looks back and jerks himself off.
And there is not a thing he can do to stop Davoth when the first rope paints his face. The warm white splatters all over his panting visage when the sire finishes the chain reaction and whispers how beautiful his breeders looks. Another shot adding to the compliments that spill from his lips.
A hum in response, the Slayer sticks out his tongue to catch a massive rope across his mouth. More decorating his head and chest until he’s left an utter mess. Next pushed onto his ass for the last few drops to land in his hair.
Marked like the marine was about to go another round with a tyrant, he can't even lick up the mess before it's snapped away. Cleaned and ready for more Davoth, the other denies this as he steps aside to fix his pants. The Slayer, frowning at this choice, reaches for a hand. Then retreating when the lord ignores the gesture to sit on the bed, his gaze on the group.
“Davoth?” asks the Slayer, glancing at the other two as John also seems lost.
“Yes?” he replies.
“Are you not happy?” unsure what would make this end so soon. The ruler looked pleased when he came.
“Oh no, breeder, I’m satisfied. But if you want more from me, I need you to keep breeding the toy. I have a pleasant surprise for my breeders if you and Orcus fill John with seed. I think one more before you switch should be enough. Do you agree?”
“A surprise?” sitting up as he sways a little. “Like what?”
“Hmm, you know that’s not how this works.”
“I tried,” chuckling as he spits up some come and smiles.
“Try harder, Slayer,” his face serious as he points to the marine on the ground.
The smile falters on the warrior’s lips. With a slow blink, he turns away to see John sit up and fist his collar. Almost instantly forgetting all about the harsh expression when he gets laid on his back, and dirty kisses press on his thighs. A smirk from the smaller breeder, he watches as hot breaths make his still-hard cock twitch and pat the cause of this, getting a laugh from the other two.
Though he hardly cares either way when the mouth returns to swallow him, a palm on top of the man’s skull to groan. A peek over his swollen belly reveals John swaying his hips while a hand reaches between his legs. A look at Orcus signals him to join in, running a claw down John’s spine to make him give a pained moan, the arm on his own cock pumping faster. The bloody point goes to the demon’s lips, licking the crimson drops before lapping more from the source. Another sound vibrates the Slayer’s shaft as he whines, begging him to keep going when the corporal becomes more ravenous. His body is tired but alive as he sees the messy black locks that stick up in all directions with every bob of the head. Heavy licks up the underside are enough for him to wonder why John didn’t use the stone when still on Earth. Both of them could have gotten everything that brought them to this room.
Temptation must have tormented the corporal this whole time. How long did he want to do this? There’s not much he could get from the Slayer besides this. And the demons were not quiet when he was often just down the hall getting used.
But fuck, this was worth holding back in the palace. Every sound he hears from the other has him keep a tight grip on the locks while Orcus licks his lips and yanks John’s hips backward. Both have harsh holds on the newest brood-boar, spreading him open for the demon’s head to slam inside with a lustful growl. His face shoved down for the Slayer to enjoy the sounds when seeing a vessel filled completely. A grin showing when he moves his hips and shoves a filthy nose into his bush.
“Fuck…” the Slayer purrs, sitting up to watch the sloppy blowjob as more spit and come dribbles on his legs. “Don’t stop… Good toy.”
The praised man pulls off to smile and stroke the head, licking some drool off his chin. “Yeah? Like that?” shuddering as Orcus grabs his sides to speed up, shoving his face in the other breeder’s belly. “Shit, sir, not there—” his eyes widening as they roll back and his moans get choppy.
“Shut up and please your owner!” growls Orcus, slamming John’s mouth down to the base. The fight to loosen the hold only makes him buck and thrash as the marauder howls with laughter. Sharp fangs on full display when he bites a shoulder for a scream to pleasure the Slayer.
Who helps hold the corporal down as his toes curl, thighs quiver, and arms shake. “Oh, shit…”
“You’re welcome,” says the demon, his mouth bloody while a large bite mark oozes on their shared fucktoy. “I’m certain you want to come more than listen to whining.”
“Where is your mask?” laughing as he gets on his knees to take over fucking John’s face. “Can I have a taste?”
Orcus smirks and leans forward to put more weight on the corporal. “So, both breeders enjoy this choice. Seems this new one had a useful idea…”
“He asked that?” pulling the man off to breathe and see him give a nod. “Good toy,” bringing him back down to fuck the hot hole as he also comes closer. The shared groan having him shake when a white finger lifts his chin and he parts his lips.
The small smile is wiped off his face when the wide mouth and long tongue consume him, swallowing the thick muscle while a fist holds his collar. In absolute bliss when all he tastes is the metallic bite of blood, and his head spins from the sensation. Sharp teeth and claws twisting his neck as he chokes.
Only when Orcus withdraws does he breathe again, shaking as he falls back for John to pull off with the biggest, dumbest grin. And the Slayer can’t stop himself from wearing an identical expression when asked if he liked that, too. John’s voice is hoarse and shaky when he hangs onto the bigger man, still getting fucked while clinging to a thick thigh. Both of his users smile when the warrior says this is just what they all needed.
Then gets on top to fuck the dirty man’s face like a fresh toy. His pace grows uneven as he pants, on all fours to not fall when his arms shake. The Slayer’s mind focused on coming as he huffs disjointed words, his brain muddled from the struggle to tell anyone how close he was.
The sounds cut off as the breeder moans and slams into the back of John’s throat. Shooting out thick ropes with a moan when he pulses into the tightening tunnel. The heavy cock spills a second impressive load as he shivers, any thoughts silenced by the all-consuming white that obliterates any semblance of thinking. Limbs locked in place when he trembles, and the last drops dribble out of the hole. A slow retreat elicits a long groan as the man he destroyed flops onto the ground, a small puddle around John’s face as he lies there.
And the Slayer stares, a gentle touch shaking the stunned breeder. Even Orcus stops to look and slaps an arm, ordering him to do something. A burp and moan shows John is alive, letting both let out a sigh of relief.
Davoth was right there, but still…
A shared glance has the watching pair chuckle while Orcus grabs a limp John to sit in his pale lap. Their laughter grows louder when they see the white painting his knees and belly. Neither worried anymore when the dazed man joins in, fresh seed spilling on his chest when he opens his mouth. All howling when the Slayer regards the softening cock and licks up some jizz from around the smaller breeder's circle. His voice low, he praises the toy for doing so well. The compliments said in time with each swipe of the tongue across skin, making John’s flush face a deeper red. The Slayer smiles as he asks if the other feels better after the second orgasm. A silly grin and nod the only answer he could draw out of the fun little come vessel.
But John can scream when Orcus pushes the Slayer aside to finish. Before either can react, he’s back to fucking John as he slams his ass down, bouncing the man on the inhuman girth to hear him ask for more. Fuck him harder. Wanted to remember this in the morning. Both smiling like this was the best joke ever told, Orcus chokes him to really pound the wish into his sloppy hole. Something drives the demon and human insane as each says what might as well be nonsense. Their breathing quick and loud when John gets spun around to silence with a long kiss. Both clinging to the other until Orcus pulls away and growls, soft thrusts getting the one in his lap to whine. A deep exhale is all the marauder bothers to do when he pulls out, leaving a limp breeder to slide onto the floor in pure bliss.
“John?” asks the Slayer, crawling over to touch a shoulder. “Are you good?”
“Holy fuck!” he hisses, failing to get off the ground. “Why didn’t you warn me about that?”
“What?”
“Whatever Davoth did to me. That was sexier than any porn I could smuggle into our quarters. Better than the shit I used as a private. Oh, fuck… I can… can’t… Flip me over and just pound my brains out through my ass. I need more cock right now. Give me more!”
“Like that little gift, huh?” curling his lips when the other vigorously nods and, at last, lifts his body off the ground. The Slayer getting a firm grip on the toy’s waist when he asks, “What was the best part?”
“I think you know,” letting the other man sit him between the thicker thighs. “There is no need to be coy.”
“Yeah. My turn,” lowering the corporal onto his back to climb on top. “Wanna see what it’s like. Couldn’t fuck one before.”
“Yes, do it. Come on! Fuck me. You know you deserve a taste…” already encouraging his user with a few strokes on his cock, guiding the tip to the slick entrance. “Should see if you can… breed me.” This line has him titter as he lowers his eyelids and arm, now touching his chest. In a real breeding position when a large hand pins him to the floor, more of the larger marine’s weight on top to relax.
Right before the dick grinds on his hole and the Slayer spreads John’s legs. Both hands keep him wide open when come dribbles out, telling him to take care of the leaking.
And without a single word, the man slips inside. The very walls shudder around the massive head as he finds it easier after Orcus, stretching John anew with a low groan. The man’s ass sucking in the cock like his throat while the Slayer notices how much better this feels after the procedure. This tight tunnel also begging for a real fuck again when he is hilt deep. His toy shows his appreciation for the promotion when muscles squeeze the shaft and he groans at being filled once more. A few light thrusts have him give a sharp exhale, the whole thing squeezing his user’s girth like a fist. A slight brush against the other hole reminds the Slayer where he must go next. The thought of fucking the corporal making his heart race faster.
But he can’t help but look at Davoth as he pulls out. The lord staring back to ask, “Are you questioning this gift? I know you are a magnificent vessel, but I can still make some changes to this arrangement and find another.”
“No…” slipping in again. “But it’s for you to use. Followers and demons do not.”
“Hmmm, at least you understand that. But not this time. Consider this a step to getting what you want. You crave more, don’t you? Please me and do what I said.”
“Yeah,” petting John’s belly as the lord grins, “I will.”
“Good breeder, keep going,” purring so each word caresses his breeders’ ears.
Right before the room fills with a howl as his prized vessel pulls out and slams back inside. The light in his eyes brighter when he watches the Slayer discover what the sire had enjoyed for so long. Laughing as he seems to see the man enter the same insanity as his toy. Then go further to ruin him.
Both are too far gone when the Slayer grips John’s hips and listens to the howling of his nice little toy. The tiredness from before disappears, his body on fire as the walls do half the work to make him go crazy. This means that it’s much easier to obey, listen to his thoughts, and plow the other man. Next, he grabs both thighs and folds them against his chest, the muscular limbs rubbing on his nipples when he drools and grins. His eyes wide and jaws clench when he speeds up, watching the hard fucktoy let out a loud groan while his head falls to the side.
The slap of skin and quick grunts only send each deeper into the pit of lust. Absolutely lost when John gives a slow turn and lifts both arms to move closer. Letting his breath get stolen when he asks for a kiss, and his owner is happy to give one. Silenced by a tongue exploring his lips, giving the Slayer a taste of himself.
The hold grows tighter while the Slayer’s brain overloads, and he uses his toy correctly. The tunnel is like a real fist when it goes faster. Not a single inch without pleasure, he digs in his nails to hear a pained moan and ends the kiss. Just staring as the smaller breeder gasps for air, John’s lips curling into a stupid grin as he looks down at his own leaking cock. Then at the bulge that moves in his stomach, touching the very top to have his user smile and give a few small bucks.
This only makes the birth canal remind both of what it is there for, speeding up to have the pregnant brood-stallion once more fuck the other’s ass. The man makes sure John is screaming when the two match in speed and the corporal’s rock-hard shaft bounces with every thrust. Whimpers and groans echo in the room when the tight hole almost orders them to come, spill their thick seed, and make the toy fulfill his purpose. Become just like the marine that is ruining him.
A dumb face and flush skin prove John is waiting to be filled once more. The small lump in his stomach was only a hint of what they deserved after being gifted by the lord.
Their lord. That’s who gave them this. The one who would give them more...
The Slayer chuckles as he glances at Davoth, seeing how the ruler smirks at this quick peek. Both taking another, longer look when the grin grows on the marine’s face. Then he turns back and lets John’s legs slide down to the floor. The change in position has the hole clench, keeping them connected as the toy gets sat in his owner’s lap. A small noise of joy slipping from messy lips with a sharp buck, ensuring the bigger marine fills him. Both groan while John rises; the smaller breeder choking back a sob when he gets slammed down.
A growl at this reaction, the Slayer grabs his sides and tells him to not hold back. Davoth doesn’t like quiet breeders. A second painful punch to the man’s guts earning a loud howl as he arches his spine and his dick throbs so hard it flicks clear drops into the air. A harsher thrust makes him grow more vocal while his insides go into a frenzy. The hole is doing everything it can to keep them connected while the Slayer stops caring about anything but drenching the walls with his come. There was nothing else that mattered when he could hear the tight moans of the smaller marine as hair falls down his face, his messy locks sticking to sweaty skin. The once neat style ruined when he pushes some out of his eyes and sits on the cock to laugh and grind his ass.
The Slayer smiles as he watches for a moment. Then he whispers, “Good toy,” grabbing a globe in each hand. “Wanna come?”
“Fuck. Yes...” almost purring when he has his hips lifted to the very top. “I need—”
A yell shakes the walls when he becomes filled again. His hole clenching oh so right when his spine bends to have his chest stick out and bounce with every thrust. A controlled force makes his ass slap on the hard muscles of his user’s lap. The sculpted body one giant moaning fuckhole as his insides never stop working the massive cock. Drops of excitement go everywhere as he looks seconds away from exploding all over. His skin is hot to the touch, and the delicious flush decorating the flesh is as alluring as the sounds that he lets slip out. Everything about him fit for the lustful state of a royal breeder.
The ultimate sign is on full display when a loud groan bounces off the walls. His head falling back, he grabs the base of his cock and comes. Not moving the fist as he shoots, painting both in white as he squeezes an eye shut and aims the head to get his own chest. The last of the load dribbling down his shining abs to pool in his bush. A total mess, he looks even more fuckable when sucking in a deep lungful of air. His bruised lips smiling when he lets the shaft flop down and slides up a few inches.
When the Slayer growls, he chuckles and shakes his head. John’s voice soft when he hums and says, “Don’t stop me, big guy. I am not leaving until you fucking breed me, got that?”
“Then allow me,” smirking when he takes the shorter vessel to the top.
With a wink for the other marine, his expression twists before he brings John down with a low groan. The small man’s hands find a sturdy pair of shoulders to cling to while his body begs to be filled again. Held down when he whimpers, the Slayer finds this will do just fine as he stops to let the panting toy do all the work. The pure bliss on an overstimulated John’s face is better than anything he could imagine. And how this one moans, the Slayer listening to each gasp as he plays with all of the spots that make this new breeder whine. The occasional clench only dragging him deeper. Sides shaking when he whispers how good this feels; groaning when a sharp squeeze orders him to come. A nice grind against the girth only makes the hole seem tighter, the walls rubbing against his cock like fingers.
And without hesitation, he exhales and shoots deep into the sac. John’s birth canal senses this load and changes the rhythm. The muscles alter the way they cling to his shaft, having him powerless to stop when they milk his dick. The motions measured to make sure he has nothing left. Both shuddering as one, the Slayer pulls the smaller breeder closer to feel pulses through the distorted abs as he praises the man; words he cannot understand murmured into a shoulder. A chuckle at the response, he moves his hips before pulling out. A finger plugging the hole when he sees the entrance remains open after John slides to the floor.
“That what you wanted?” he asks, playing with the loose rim as he listens to soft whimpers below.
“Fuck... Shit, yes. Good breeder,” rambles John, “I can take more. Yeah, just give me a minute. Don’t stop yet. I ain’t done, promise.”
The Slayer looks at Davoth to see him nod, his gaze alight when he also stares at the other marine. The grin he wears says to enjoy it now, or the fun will end right there. A finger tapping on his knee until the Slayer turns back and removes his own. Next, flipping John onto his stomach to hear a confused sound. A hush at the unasked question, he mounts and grinds his still-hard cock over the crack.
“Slayer?” mumbles his toy, looking over his shoulder as he remains motionless. “I’m almost ready...” raising his ass to stay in the air on shaking knees.
“Can’t. Must start now,” pointing to Davoth.
“Oh. Hold on. I—” the sentence cut off as the broad head finds his hole. A low groan slips out when it pushes through, and he says, “Not too fast.”
"I’ll be gentle,” pressing a kiss on the nape of John’s neck.
A hand slips underneath, the soft cock taking some coaxing to swell again. Their hips move as one with steady bucks and quick gasps. The soft exhales of the corporal are a little erratic at first, but the Slayer is swift to make him more consistent. Slow thrusts have John’s voice keep time with the warrior. The two ends under his user’s control as he rests on his forearms and spreads his legs like a good breeder. This alone is a signal for the Slayer to put his full weight on top. A quiet sound from below saying to get started and claim this new version of the toy.
A tittering from John ensures he cannot escape, his arms soon fettered while the bigger breeder speeds up. The cries to slow down come out once more. Though now they are far less convincing when he pushes back and grinds his hole on the cock. Growing much quieter when he arches his spine, and the Slayer moves his hands to the smaller hips. In no time, making the new vessel scream as his sole focus is marking these insides again.
This breeder needed to know what getting bred meant. To understand what he would do once claimed. To realize that he would love every second of this.
And he doesn’t stop until they come together. Both spilling their seed to add to the growing collection in John’s sac and the pool under his belly.
But he does not offer the corporal respite when he picks John up to bend over the bed. The pleas to wait are ignored when the lord grabs his face and shuts up the man with his cock. A growl to remain silent when fucked, must learn to keep quiet and open his legs. The point emphasized with sharp thrusts to the back of the tired breeder’s throat. A quick pull off to ask if John understood, he nods before he gets forced down to gag again.
Once he is laid on his stomach, his entire posture becomes far laxer as the Slayer climbs into bed. Both users exchanging looks, they grab their respective ends and make him rise. John is on his hands and knees when he flashes a look of worry. Neither lets him keep the expression for long when they take over. Both howling as they hear his screams; each shooting hot, thick seed into his holes. Two pairs of palms slapping his shuddering body as John whimpers, jizz dribbling onto his already-drenched belly. Davoth laughs as he rolls the man over and slips inside while holding the marine’s skull. The Slayer smiles as he watches for a second. Then sits up, grabs John’s shaking thighs, and wrenches them apart to slide back in.
And by the end, they leave him drenched in come and sweat when each pulls out. What strength remained in the smaller breeder gone when they stand up to stare at the mess they made. A shuddering mass of muscle and seed, John can barely move to wipe his face. Shaky lips opening to let him lick some of what clings to his chin. His disheveled hair sticking out in all directions until Davoth snaps to clear the chaos and fix the locks. An arm reaching for the downed marine to caress and gaze at the distended belly his other vessel and the guard created.
The hand then presses on the mound, the palm glowing with the familiar red that comes with the following step. All holding their breath as the first blast of energy enters John’s body and he gasps. The next few have him grimace as he is very careful to show how much pain he has to be in. A fight to not do more than quiver his lips when he curls up. Then grabs his cock.
The continuous blasting has a strange effect as he strokes his shaft and moans. Each hit from the lord’s power drives his arm to become a blur when he bites his lip. What little stamina he had from before used for this effort.
A final shot sends him over his limit. The moment the hand lifts from his stomach, he shoots all over the red-hot area. The ropes hitting the spot for him to laugh and milk the rest out. Weak pulses let the small load ooze out as his eyelids grow heavy and he rolls onto his side. Fast asleep and gripping the blankets in seconds.
Davoth leans in to look at the slumbering man closer. “Well, if that is not nice to see. I wonder why... Hmmm, he is otherwise okay.”
The question gets left unanswered. Instead, he shrugs and rolls the man onto his back as he taps the circle. Then slaps his face. The strikes are not too hard, and they don’t leave a mark like the Slayer expected. A few light hits on the cheek having John open his eyes as he’s pulled into a sitting position. His mouth agape, he snaps it shut when the hand returns to his abdomen, again getting blasted with red waves.
But this time, he gawks as his stomach grows and he lets out a groan. Each hit of energy making his belly swell as if he had been with child for months. In moments, he has a baby bump. Then the Slayer blinks and almost misses when the womb was as big as his, then bigger. In what is mere minutes, swollen to full term.
The two watching this take a step back when the hand retreats, and John bellows. A wall-shaking shout bursting from his lips when he lurches forward and presses a palm on his stomach. The first gush of red staining the sheets when the corporal curls up into a ball. A loud sob slips out and Davoth forces him into the birthing position, his limbs quivering when told to push.
The man yells back to shut the fuck up and pull the damn thing out that second. The lord laughs as he shakes his head and asks why. There is nothing that can be done that wouldn’t hurt them both. Any fresh injuries would ruin the next step.
John turns to the Slayer as he flinches, gripping the sheets. The warrior smiles as he looks at the pregnant marine, reaching out to touch his face. His heart racing as he stares at what he helped create. The hand sliding lower to caress the curves of the baby’s home. Feeling every twitch when they fight to escape the safety of the sac for Hell’s warmth. A shudder making him smile when he reaches past the mound.
The arm stopped when a fist seizes his wrist, causing him to turn and see the lord frown and shake his head. A sigh of annoyance comes out when Davoth pushes the stone and the Slayer flinches, the reality of the situation slapping him across the face. His eyes returning to the sobbing John on the bed. The marine is a total mess with the new child ravaging his body, sucking his strength faster than the other breeder ever experienced.
It takes a moment to tear his gaze from the horror in front of him and touch Davoth’s shoulder. A finger pointing to the corporal in labor when he buckles, his face in the stained bedding while his knees hold, for now. The lord nods and walks over, reaching under to run his fingertip over the circle, a soft glow coming from the area when he moves his arm.
The effects begin once the arm leaves, having the man straighten to spit curses at the one who gave him energy. Every insult that seems to come to the corporal’s mind hurled between sobs and screams.
The lord acts unconcerned, turning his back to stand beside the Slayer. A grip on the man’s shoulder when he resumes watching his new breeder’s first labor. Both ruler and guard smile with every sound of pain; each leaning in and pointing to different parts as they speak in their other tongue.
The Slayer pulls away, the hold so loose he almost pauses at how easy the escape was. More so when neither seems to care it happened at all. He hurries over to kneel at John’s side and grab a hand, giving it a quick squeeze.
“Hey. You surviving?” he asks.
“Fucking what do you think?” not enough anger and plenty of frustration about the situation in his voice.
“Can do this. You’re doing great, John.”
“Am I?”
“Yes. Trust me.”
“Be thankful you are also pregnant...”
“There you go,” forcing a smile until John yells, pulling his arm away to punch the mattress. A pained sob only makes the Slayer come closer and offer some comfort, not stopping until he calms the distressed breeder down to not waste his energy. Remaining close when he has to keep the man from collapsing. The lord finally shows he cares by walking over to gift the one giving birth strength. Then he steps back to keep his distance again.
Only when the labor is over is the Slayer dragged away from his toy. The yellow sac plopping on the bed, John flops onto his side, and Davoth returns to take the new child and the warrior. Both gone to let the exhausted vessel lay motionless under Orcus’ gaze.
And there is nothing the Slayer can do about it. He is told to focus as Davoth rips open the sac like the birth before. A slow tear revealing something... expected, for once. The creature born of the breeder and the guard far more humanoid than Davoth’s offspring, it looks closer in appearance to the Slayer than Orcus. The skin a few shades paler than him, they have a slight blue tint. What they seem to inherit from the marauder are clawed fingers and two pairs of horns. A finger reaching out to touch an arm when he feels the cold flesh. Gone from its home for mere minutes, the body lacks the warmth of new life. A look at Davoth, the ruler nods and lifts an eyelid to reveal a red iris, any light absent when the eye remains unfocused.
A stillbirth? Why would he create a failure like that?
Asking just that when Orcus walks over and looks at the corpse... or simple lifeless form. The same discovery having him frown and touch a cheek. Both waiting for an answer when Davoth smiles and has it hang in the air by a horn.
“What were you expecting?” he asks. "You cannot make a demon the same way you do heirs. You both should be thankful I did not attempt such a thing. Any life from this would be a waste of argent.”
“Then why do this? At all?” asks the Slayer.
“To see if the procedure was successful, to know if his body could handle labor, and to learn if the energy spell would be enough. Slayer, this breeder is not cut from the same cloth as you. But it seems he passed all three with few problems.”
“And the stillbirth?”
“There was no point in wasting my seed for this test. If I rushed a real pregnancy that much, the child would be no stronger than an unfed whelp. No heir is to be so weak. Not when I can use a breeder and a demon with a unique creation. A thing unfit for life, and a means of showing success without letting it suffer or die. A lifeless vessel that never lived.”
“I would consider that a more than fair trade for you, Slayer,” whispers Orcus, his teeth brushing against the breeder’s earlobe.
“Any kid not mine, mine is good. Don’t need more,” pushing the demon off to turn away and stare at the bed instead. The slight swing of the body in the corner of his eye has him freeze. Davoth moving to block his line of sight as he refuses to avert his gaze.
In a dangerously soothing tone, he asks, “What should I do with your child, Slayer? Should we give it a funeral?” a portal opening to show a deep pit in an orange desert. At the bottom, a swarm of imps. The creatures' cries fill the room as the mob becomes a wild frenzy of trapped demons. Screams of hunger throwing them all into madness as they claw at the sides of their prison.
“No.”
“Do you want to keep this experiment?” the location changing to the blood swamps, the fog thick as demons slink among the shadows.
The Slayer shakes his head, seeing the setting become more domesticated. The walls made of metal, a gigantic bed takes up most of the view. In the center sleeps a tucked-in Baal as unwilling surround them. The eyeless skulls turn in the lord’s direction when he looks at the warrior, their silent stares worse than the crazed pit as he peers at Davoth. Who does nothing but watch as the Slayer nods and he lowers his arm. A glance at Orcus having him put on his mask.
A final message vibrates the metal when the marauder says, “I hope the child enjoys our surprise. It has been a while since you gifted them like this. Was it Earth last time?” Chuckling as the breeder bristles at the horrific incident Davoth probably boasted about, he turns his back to the glaring man to follow the ruler through the doorway.
The way closes when the Slayer walks over to the bed again. He scans the prone marine on the mattress, seeing how he wipes tears from his tired eyes. Quiet to the hoarse breathing that has him fist the blankets that have become... redder since the labor. A strange smear of blood on his thighs and hips. The Slayer is about to investigate when John turns his gaze towards the other breeder. The search for answers paused to touch the shrinking belly instead.
“You doing okay?” he asks, sitting down to pull a limp corporal toward his lap. “Not too much?”
John sits his head on a thigh, letting his legs splay a little on the mattress. “Where’s the baby? Shouldn’t... I hold... it?”
“Yeah... Davoth took it to be with Baal. Wanted you to rest first.”
“Shame. Hoped to deal with myself...”
“Maybe later,” brushing some hair from the other man’s face like Davoth did after a long birth. Keeping his gestures slow and steady to wipe the sweat away. Wondering if he was doing this right when he thinks about what always came after for himself.
But he stops when John brushes aside the hand to say, “Stop. Leave me alone.”
“Too much? Or planning something?”
“Not everything is a plan...” resting his chin on the thigh. “But you do have a workbench...”
“No, remember the deal. This is not the time. Once on Earth. We’ll have more resources and privacy. Can think about escaping.”
“I know. Let me dream.”
“Just sleep.”
“I can do that,” letting the Slayer pick him up and call for clean sheets. A portal opens for several zombies to strip the bedding, leaving fresh blankets and an extra pillow. Both exchanging a look when they lie down, John closes his eyes as he curls up under the covers.
The man is fast asleep when the other marine just stares at his slumbering form. Again watching as the lines around John’s face soften and his breathing slows. Fingers hovering over a shoulder as the Slayer wonders if they will ever make this work.
Would they be able to escape? What could they do that would get rid of the lord? There had to be a way... How long would they keep Davoth from finding out? There’s only so much they can hide with countless followers around. Kelly alone had the means to slow them down. And who knows how many under his command? Or the number of people the Sergeant might know that would offer their forces.
No, he promised they would find a way, and it was too late to quit now. Not after what he had done to John. He couldn’t let the guy die, but the damage of saving him was still growing. This was the only path to make the situation right.
And this is all he can think about as he resumes the soft touches to John’s hair. The other man is deep in slumber as he fixes some of the chaotic locks, hoping that maybe this time, he will fix something before they return to Earth.
They’re still like this when the door opens again. The sound of heavy boots and tall staffs warns the Slayer of the new arrivals, and he sits up to watch Davoth lead the Hell Priests inside. The lord glancing at the sleeping marine, he folds his arms behind his back and smiles at his larger breeder.
“Are we ready to leave?” he asks, walking alone to the foot of the bed.
“John… he needs healing… And rest.”
“Yes, I know, and we won’t wake him. That birth was a hard one, especially when so sudden. Is he still bleeding?”
The Slayer lifts the blanket, searching the sheets for any red stains. A quick look over the pale thighs showing nothing changed since they laid down. A pang of regret goes through his chest as he fixes the bedding and turns away. He hates how often he forgets how fragile the other man is. Not breakable per se, but he doubts John can do a lot of the things he could—like when he remembers how slowly the corporal heals.
“I’ll take that as a no,” Davoth says, moving to the side as he removes the blankets. Next, careful not to wake John, rolls him over onto his stomach and parts his legs. Whispering to the holy men, “I want the walls to have some training done. The bleeding was minimal but needs more preparation, so do that before you start any other spells.”
The priests nod, stepping forward as Ranak replies, “This will require materials. Should we utilize the other breeder or a demon sacrificed?”
“I will send a pinky to the room and kill remotely. Use the needed parts and explain the steps to the Slayer as you work. I want him to remain calm the entire time.”
“As is your wisdom, venerable one. We shall have both fit for transport by your return,” bowing his head as the other two priests back away and do the same. The lord taking his exit, Ranak now turns and tells the awake marine, “I suggest you listen well, Slayer. The little breeder will sleep while he heals, but that means you must pay. Such caution requires more focus, understand?”
“Be quiet, do your job. That’s all that matters,” the Slayer replies, climbing out of the bed before the other two can get too close.
“I think both should pay for that...” hisses Nilox as he leans forward, a blade appearing in his grip. “But I also realize we should just get started.”
“What are you doing?” the Slayer hisses, stepping closer to the crowned priest.
“A simple hypnotics spell to ensure he remains asleep. I enjoyed his screams last time, but that can happen after. If the wise ruler allows.”
“But why the knife?”
“That is for what happens after,” lifting his staff with the other two to create a spell circle on the wall. A soft sigh comes from John when the runes rotate over his head and his entire body grows lax. An air of calm settling on his prone form as the holy men now each hold a blade, the points hovering around his back.
Ranak turns to the Slayer and says, “He cannot wake up, no matter what we do. Until we get rid of the circle, he will remain in slumber.”
“Make it quick,” is all he replies, crossing his arms while averting his gaze. Remaining silent when soft whimpers come from the bed. Only daring to look again when a dim red light casts shadows on the walls. Watching as the carved runes in John’s back shine when the staffs hover over the injured flesh. Blood oozes from the many cuts, the dark drops sucked into a portal that Ranak sticks a gnarled hand inside. A pained groan heard from John as the arm moves.
The door opens for all four of the conscious men to turn and see a pinky walk in. The massive creature stumbles into the room as it looks around. Large claws grip the doorway, its sides heaving when it gives a slow blink, focusing on the bed.
A weak growl seems to slip out when it collapses, in a heap on the floor for them to acknowledge the gaping hole in its back. With a final gasp, the doomed demon goes still.
Nilox snaps at the Slayer, ordering him to hold the staff in the priest’s place as he walks over to the corpse. The bloody knife shoves into the deep wound; then he reaches deep inside to pull out a fat purple tube, slicing off a long chunk before reaching in again. A few more odd organs and bits of muscle cut from the dead demon are gathered in a bowl as the other three watch. A slow rise having the other two priests lower their staffs, the portal remaining when the Slayer does the same.
Ranak holds out a hand, accepting the dish. His words are slow and careful as he drops the first piece into the small doorway. “This human does not have your durability. Not a surprise from my experience”—the corners of his lips rising—“but that means I know just what to do to fix that. A simple graft of stronger flesh and not even you will break this toy in a violent... mood. The temptation must be there. No one should criticize such urges from a warrior like you.”
The Slayer snarls when the Hell priest grins and puts in the next chunk. Neither moving to take it any further when the sleeping man smiles. A third piece is picked up when Ranak continues the explanation.
“I see my assumption was correct. Now, we must make sure the flesh gets accepted. Organ rejection in many species leads to great torturous deaths. Watching their own body kill itself in an attempt to survive. The simple hope of life rotting with the rest—”
“Stop.”
“Then listen instead of interrupting! Give Nilox back his staff and we can finish the surgery. I cannot do more until we construct a new circle.”
The Doom Slayer passes over the staff and takes a few steps backward, looming behind them from the shadows as the chanting begins. Blasts of red energy create a loop of spinning magic as the three grow louder, the sleeping man unaffected as little bolts hit the runes on his skin. Unmoving when Ranak turns to his owner and smiles, now explaining how the alteration will work to have his toy deliver strong heirs with a more divine birth canal. The warrior glancing at the floor when they announce the procedure is complete and all the circles disappear, the deep cuts and blood taken with them. A blink at how that works makes him feel a bit more at ease. Then wonder why.
The ritual was supposed to do that, right? That would explain a few things…
A quiet groan yanks his attention back to the bed as John rolls over. His face far more rested, the smaller breeder looks like he slept all day when he sits up to stretch. Then stiffen as the three priests lean in and leer at his naked form.
“What do you want?” the Slayer asks, taking a step forward. “You wanted a payment.”
Ranak turns and stares at his scarred torso, touching a couple of longer scars on his hips. “Do not act so impatient. The cost is simple. Something you are used to paying.”
“I see,” snarling as he lets the hand trace the jagged marks. “Not here.”
“No, get on your knees. Now.”
“We could use the co—”
“Do it, Slayer, or he can pay too,” the blade once more in Ranak's grip.
The warrior keeps his mouth shut as he drops to the ground. The priests’ chuckles make him lock gazes with the helmed holy man, parting his lips out of instinct.
“What a well-trained breeder you are. Such a simple command and you know exactly what to do. If you are so eager, we will do that after you are done…” lifting the tip of the knife to the Slayer’s throat. “Now, listen, breeders—stay in bed, foolish creature!" snapping the order at John. "Both of you are going to Earth. If your toy acts out again, Slayer, we have a new method of fixing such behavior for the pair of you. I can assume who has a better chance of not having any severe side effects.”
“Could you just send us back?” John’s voice slurring as the mattress groans.
“We will in a moment,” pressing the point into the thin skin over the Slayer’s neck.
“What’re you doing?” the corporal grunting as he hits the floor. A long groan coming out as Ranak and Nilox growl.
“It is unwise to get up from such a strong sleep spell,” hisses Grav. “Only allows you to experience less than favorable outcomes…” laughing as a smack echoes in the room.
Then the door opens, and they all grow quiet. None of the men making a sound as heavy boots walk inside. Davoth stops behind Ranak as he asks, “I see they are ready to go home. Did you begin the ritual?”
“We thought it wise to wait. The new breeder was trying to stand up already.”
“Do not worry about him anymore. Get the bowl full. I need enough for both.”
“As is your wisdom,” pulling the blade away.
The Slayer releases a sharp exhale, blinking as his shoulders fall and—
The knife sinks into his throat as he lifts his arms. Ranak does not flinch, burying the point hilt deep, the impossible speed used slicing off a thumb. The priest giving a smile as he lets go and steps away. The Slayer looks at his injured finger, falling on his back as the three holy men now circle his body. A soft red glow covers him as he gasps for air, lifting a hand to the sire. Eyes wide when his head spins, his limbs grow heavy when the arm falls. Davoth not once moving when he struggles to breathe despite what this puts in danger. His mouth hanging open while he rips at his neck.
No, the lord refuses to come over until the pain sets the Slayer’s flesh on fire. The fetus awakening once more to feed, tearing at his guts through the sac with molten claws.
And all the father does is smile and pin his vessel down. A loving expression for the unborn heir as he grabs both shoulders and holds the thrashing marine to the floor. Soft words of comfort doing little as the crimson light grows brighter. The loud chanting that begins locking every joint in his body as the room becomes nothing but red, the illumination so intense his eyes now burn like his skin. Soon so bright that he’s blinded. The last thing he sees is a grin meant for him this time, Davoth’s lips moving to speak something he cannot understand.
Notes:
I do want to thank the commenters who give me these ideas, even if they do go interesting places. I always love an excuse to have fun with the marines, especially when they are pregnant and showing.
So, a note about a breeding pairs: Does should be bigger than bucks, even after bucks gain testosterone weight from their first mating. When breeding, does often pick the smaller buck, and often one that is more docile around her (this is from personal experience). This is for the safety of the mother as this prevents the offspring from being too large to pass through the birth canal, and to ensure she has a favorable mating. Does are known to castrate bucks that do not play along, so being smaller and nicer to a female is going to win him favors. This means nothing around other males, as they will do serious damage to each other if they fight. They can seriously injure each other from the age of several months.
All this is to say, that is why the Slayer could so easily pick up Davoth in his bunny form. He is, in this lone form, physically lighter than the Slayer, but potentially more hostile to his demons.
Chapter 14: Alone Time With The Lord Of Hell
Summary:
After a nice break from the routine of the UAC, the marines must return to Earth. While beginning his day, John finds himself having a long, through talk in Davoth's office. The lord showing how well he has forgiven the corporal for his previous stunt in Hell.
Notes:
I have to give a warning for this chapter, there is a very clear scene where several body parts are degloved. These are injuries that are just a step below getting skinned.
Otherwise, I do get a little brutal with John's torture before they fuck, and Davoth does have some fun toying with the man.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
After a week of sleeping on a royal mattress, it’s hard to rest on the pathetic cots at UAC. Going from what might as well be clouds to the cloth equivalent of a stone slab is almost a slap in the face. Though there was the whole fact of why they ended up there in the first place to keep in mind…
John had to admit, the idea was not a good one. Taking the kid into Hell to fuck with the literal ruler of said domain would not win him any points. More so with the entire plan to be torn to pieces by demons, he should have seen the lord coming to deal with the situation. The fact he had the shit beat out of him was pure luck if he was being honest. Even if it meant a few rounds of getting punched, ripped apart, and kicked until every bone in his body was shattered. Only for his injuries to be undone and the whole thing repeated.
At last, the kid got in there and wanted to know if they had won the game before explaining the lie he fed to them. Neither of the identical men were too pleased by the end of it all. His mouth shut to his real motives as he passed out to prevent another beating from both this time.
At least he could heal with no demons taking advantage. However, how he managed that will remain a mystery. Not worth looking at that gifted horse, anyway. Davoth had to have been tempted at least once.
God, what was he thinking… Why couldn’t he paint the outside wall with his brains like the rest? Would it have mattered if the Slayer saw once he did?
Well, knowing his luck… yes.
None of that matters now. He had to return to Earth one day, since Davoth was not happy to keep feeding him. The truth was made evident every time they exchange glares; harsh words about caring for a human said whenever a meal got left for John. The lord throwing insults every time he reminded the man why he was there. Usually followed by him feeling up and molesting his ass before saying John was healing as he should.
Which means now he was safe from all that, and had to return to this broken routine. Up before any of the daytime techs, he digs out clean clothes as he watches a sleeping Slayer. A pang at his unabashed staring, he slips on the clothing as fast as possible. His hands slide down his body to make sure today’s uniform looked nice while reading emails. The shirt tucked in and smooth when he walks to the bathroom. An odd greeting to the cleaning crew was the most he was going to muster before breakfast. The first stall slammed shut to deal with the most pressing issue.
Or so he thought when fixing his hair by the sink afterward, pushing back a loose lock. A look at his teeth in the mirror, he smiles when he hears a familiar set of footsteps that rarely joins him in here. The expression brightening as he says, “What, you finally grow a—”
John’s mouth snaps shut when he sees a different—but oh so expected—face smile back. A look at the suit and expensive tie on the hulking body of the lord of Hell having him step back as the way is now blocked. A flash of red makes the room shrink when the walls become painted with blood and writhing flesh. Not a doubt left about who traps him in the ever-tightening space.
Then the bathroom returns to a boring gray as Davoth leans on the sink and asks, “What was that, John? Did you want to ask something?”
Instead of answering, he turns to the mirror, putting a strand of hair back in place. A quick glance at the lord having him remain like this while at a loss for words. What could he say and not get his ass kicked or railed? Or both.
Thankfully, Davoth seems uninterested in pressing the issue and changes the subject. “So, you’ve been watching the children grow for a while.”
“Yeah…” turning a little to have the fake COO in view. “Kids have a way of doing that. No matter how much some don’t like that happening.”
“How true,” chuckling as he puts on a large watch. “I wish they could stay small. But I have many more to create and raise to fill the void.”
“And I am going to stop you. There will be a moment when you make a mistake, and one of us shoots a bullet into your skull.”
“I’m sure you dream about that often. It is normal for the misguided to hold such foolish ambitions. However, I do not find it worth the effort to entertain such pointless delusions. So, I shall ask a much more important question. Did you warm up to Baal? Despite the outcome of that dumb game you played with me and my demons, I think you are doing fine with the heirs.”
“Yeah, keep hearing that…”
“And I mean it every time. I demand you continue. It might lead to something you desire. Like maybe a sergeant rank?”
“Then you realize I ain’t gonna touch the kid. You should know that after what I did for their entertainment. None of them are the enemy.”
“Hmmm, I suppose we could forget the ulterior motive since you made my child so happy. Yes, we can let that go when things worked out so well. Baal kept asking when you would take them out for a game the entire time you were healing.”
“So glad to know I made the rascal’s whole week. Bet you were Daddy of the year after that.”
“Close enough, but we will continue this talk in my office. Come, we have an important matter to discuss. In private.”
“What about the Slayer?” taking a big step backward as he glances at the mirror and still gray walls.
“Not this time. I want your input without him there. The toy needs to remember who is keeping it running. Or else it can get recycled and replaced.”
A glint of the watch brings John’s gaze back to Davoth, hands at his side when he walks over. The device seems to motion him forward as the lord holds out a hand to press on his back, ushering him into the hall. The arm gone to not look too out of place as they walk to the front of the base. On the elevator to the COO's office as the marine is once more trapped, the metal coffin locked, humming as they rise. Saying nothing when they step out into the lobby, he puts on a blank mask.
The silence is easy to maintain when Davoth greets Chelsea and says to call when someone named Mort visits. A light touch signaling John to follow as he sees the woman give an equally disinterested glance in his direction. The lord smiles as he leads the way, having the lock activated as he strolls over to the window and stares down at the base with a smirk. Then he turns back to the marine, walking over as he reaches out a hand.
John glances at the outstretched arm. He lets the fingers cup his chin and lift his face, two pairs of green irises searching each other. And while he could never guess what the ruler thinks, he knows what to expect when a thumb runs over his mouth to have it part. Then hot lips press on his while a normal-sized tongue slips inside, and a pair of arms wrap around his waist. Feeling small in the worst way when he gets pushed against a wide chest so similar to the man he would much rather be with.
However, this one doesn’t act the same when he’s forced to grab the broad torso. Bracing as he is next picked up and carried over to the farthest wall, his back pressed against the shelves of awards. A soft gasp allowed to escape when they separate to have his legs wrapped around the ruler’s waist, and a kiss caresses his throat. Both coming together when Davoth acts like they were apart too long. The lord growling as he grabs an ass cheek, groping the globe through the stiff fabric. A whisper to not be too loud. The words spoken between kisses on a shoulder.
The man has only a second to wonder what that was supposed to mean before he’s slammed onto the table that comes out of the wall. All the air knocked out of his lungs when a hand pins him down. A sound of ripping fabric has him see his naked lower half. The ruler destroys his outfit; the shirt following his pants to pile on the floor. Any protest is silenced when a finger traces the outside of his circle, warning how close they are to leading a very different discussion. A glance at the runes showing the corporal there were plenty of ways to make this… interesting. A tap next to the perimeter making him jump so Davoth laughs.
“What are you doing?” asks John.
“Now is the time to see what you can do when the circle is not in effect. Without a needy breeder to interrupt. He might have saved your life, but I need to determine if my efforts were worth the resources invested. You know how running a business is. Ruling is in many ways no different.”
“Wait, was all that I did before pointless? I did what you wanted. I helped care for the kid—”
“Do not act as if that is the only criterion. I have standards that all creations must pass. Few meet them, and fewer are filling such a role. But a good toy is always nice to possess. Even if they have some more… troubling ideas about the value of their lives.”
“Sounds like a god-complex to me.”
“But is it a complex when you are one?”
“You hardly look divine. And last I checked, Lucifer was only an angel.”
“Only the foolish think all gods are similar to the holy beings of your world. But I will play along, and you can continue thinking so. I lose nothing by giving a history lesson. Lucifer, as a name, was changed. Weakened by later civilizations.
“Such a title was first meant for the morning star. A symbol of gods and goddesses long before such tales you invoke. But again, king of a realm, celestial body, or god—they all sound like fine things to me.”
The hand lifts from John’s stomach to grab his arm and force him to the ground. On his knees when the table retreats and he hears the clink of metal, the floor groaning when something cold latches onto his wrists. A glance down having him see gray cuffs click close and yank his arms behind his back. The quick motions almost popping his shoulders out of their sockets. A snarl twists his lips when he glares at the lord as he looms over, slow fingers undoing the expensive tie.
The silk glints under the lights before it wraps around the corporal’s mouth. The taste of cloth and something sweet on John’s tongue as his jaws struggle to shut with the piece of clothing. A snort shows his disapproval when he tugs on the chains that come from the floor. A second sound demanding answers as he receives a smug grin.
“My, you are a vocal little thing,” says Davoth, squatting to run a hand down the marine’s arm. “A pleasing body and a great mouth. If I didn’t know any better, I would say you like this. Then again, is that not why you became a marine? To be told what to do and obey without a second thought? Be praised for being a mindless, obedient fighter and to beg for more orders? Follow every command with zero hesitation?”
John glares at the lord, the ire in his gaze doing its best to burn a hole in the bastard. The effort about as successful as his attempts at escape before. This only makes the other laugh and slide a hand down to his hip, lifting his ass to play with a cheek. A snarl and snap get him a slap on the globe, the pain stronger than the force put into the blow. Another, on the other side, emphasizing the injury. A third one right in the middle, making the entire area throb as he feels the handprints on his skin.
A hand grabs his nape, pulling his head back to look into green eyes. Then the sharpened teeth that appear in the mouth below. The corners of Davoth’s lips are higher than on a normal man when he grins. Four sharp fangs glint under the light as the ruler leans forward, licking a cheek as he kneels in front of the corporal. A chuckle when the tip passes over the gag, and he pulls away, tracing the jawline with another pass. The lord uses the tie to guide the toy’s face, turning his neck to run a finger over the exposed throat with slow strokes. A sound almost like a purr sends a shudder down his captive’s spine and bumps over the skin. Most of it out of fear, none of it is willing.
“Hmmm, such a strong reaction to something so small… I would call it beautiful, but that hardly fits a man like you. Not yet.”
John watches as a fist raises. A stare right at the knuckles before they connect with his jaws and send him to the ground. A resounding crack ringing in the office as every bone in his mouth breaks and the back of his skull hits the floor. The silk gag muffles the sharp breath from his nose as he refuses to show pain, glaring as hard bits of teeth fall on his tongue.
Davoth stares at his prone form, smiling at the ire when he sees the man swallow broken enamel and blood. The fist lifting as he says, “Seems you remember how to act after all. There may be some potential in there if this continues.” The next blow coming down before the other could show he heard.
A few more rain down with the same fury as before, each time breaking him more. Loud cracks tell John the truth as every punch connects. His head spinning as his ears ring and something warm hits his naked body. The side of his face with less damage can still see through a squinted gaze. A look at the bloody knuckles showing it's all his as it drips onto his chest. His sides heaving as a slap on the cheek jolts the marine and he groans in the gag. The sight of the grinning lord a reminder he will die.
If he wanted… why now? What is going…
The glint of metal has his one good eye flying open. The silver and blue of a watch speeding up his breath as it slides off. No, not off... The band around the ruler’s palm, he smiles as he makes sure the face rests on his knuckles. The slow rise of the adorned fist filling John’s vision.
Right before the accessory collides with his chest. An explosion of pain has him choke as his torso collapses. His throat shut tight as his flesh gives way and the skin breaks from the force. Blood spraying on Davoth’s face.
And like he was gifted ambrosia from the heavens, the lord feeds. After a long taste of the thick crimson staining his lips, he swallows the gift to mock the marine. The smug grin he wears flickering in his captive’s failing gaze. Heavy breathing and pained, labored breaths pleasing the ruler’s ears.
The edge of his vision grows black, and John cannot fight back the tears that fall down his face. His body hurts, each breath a struggle as every inhale becomes increasingly painful. The bastard had hit him hard enough to break his ribs. The bruises pool under his skin where it remains intact. Bone grating together, sharp bits poking soft flesh.
The next blow does it for the man. His lungs filling as he almost howls in response.
And the fist connects with his stomach.
The sound of pain that escapes his lips is so primal he cannot stop the feral scream that shakes his sides. Tears streaming down his face as his already ragged breathing stops. His throat is sealed shut as he fights to inhale. The lone eye wide as he finds it impossible to have any oxygen enter his lungs. Heart racing, he can only stare as the fist comes down one last time.
A sharp shake has John snap his eyes open. Both lids rise with ease, the swelling gone. All his teeth are once more in his mouth when he sucks in air and looks up at the ceiling.
What the fuck? When did he pass out?
“Oh, we’re not done here, corporal,” whispers Davoth, pulling on the man’s throat to have him sat up again. “I am holding back for you, so be grateful.”
The marine squints but remains quiet as the fingers tighten around his exposed neck. Choosing to snarl when the fist does not return to continue that part of the torture.
Though his mouth becomes slack when he’s reminded about the fangs. He lifts his head as they go all the way in, and he grits his teeth. Breathing a little faster, he glances down when they slide out for Davoth to lick his lips, using his fingers to open the wounds more and show bone. The white standing out against the blood when a thumb shoves inside, tearing the wound further as the man bites down.
Not a single sound may leave and give the ruler the satisfaction of hearing his agony. Not even when the digit leaves for a long tongue to lap up the treat. A slow lick proving the other doesn’t care. A slow taste cleans the skin for it to find another hole to repeat with more cruelty. Large fingers ripping his shoulder open to gush his precious life into the waiting maw of a hungry despot. Green eyes meet when he laps up the feast with a smile and a lidded gaze. A soft chuckle as if this was a fucking game when he shoves a thumb in the gaping tear and stops the stream. The lord smirking when he leans in for John to inhale the metallic stench of blood.
“What’s wrong, John?” asks Davoth, grinding on the wound to let some spurt out. “Is the big tough marine act not getting what you want anymore? Has it ever?”
The man keeps his mouth shut to glare at his torturer. This was nothing compared to training. This fucker would have to do better than that. Davoth didn’t have the guts to even kill a tied-up prisoner. John would survive this.
“Oh, I see the defiant act wants to arise again. You can't do that after screaming and bleeding on the ground. As I said before, you could be a beautiful little thing. If you would just accept how this worked. How hard is it to concede to a new master? After all, I am the leader you have always served... UAC is still here. Why fight the one who feeds you?”
John snarls at this, showing how much he believed that bullshit. If this guy thought that was true...
Davoth rolls his eyes and lays the marine on his side. A hand remaining on the injured shoulder, the other shows bloodstained knuckles as the watch gets tossed aside. A set of clangs bouncing off the walls as the timepiece hits the floor, more drops splattering on the ground as John stares at the mess. The bloody fist next grabbing his attention as the digits unfurl to reveal impressive claws. Their points are so sharp that each seems to slice the air when they move. Each as long as fingers when he reveals them to his captive. The man offers nothing as his entire frame braces. Not like showing fear would grant him mercy.
And John cannot say he was wrong as the hand on his wound retreats for fresh blood to ooze out. A lone claw makes for a horrific replacement as it thrusts inside. The tip hitting bone with a white-hot, blinding, body-lurching pain. The point raking over the surface as he hears them grind together. And feels it vibrate up the muscle. A slower pull having it grow worse as the hole begins bleeding worse than before. A new gush of red painting his torso when the finger retreats.
Then gets the other holes, repeating the process with more cruelty and spite with every attempt at making him break. The final attack ripping his wound open so far it almost reaches his sternum. John smiling as the lord frowns.
“Hmmm, you’re not as vocal as when I fuck you. Even before I gifted the circle, you created some lovely sounds.”
The man shakes his head, laughing through the gag.
“There we go... Much better. Keep showing you were made for this. Should we move on?” wrapping a hand around the marine’s neck.
The questioned man can’t answer. His body shudders when the other hand joins to tighten the grip like a noose. A gag heard when the fingers squeeze his throat. All he can do is stare as the lord strangles the marine with little effort. Nails dig into the thin skin, but they remain steady despite the power used. Each second passes in slow motion as John chokes, his head spinning as he sees spots. A quick glance around the room, he finds nothing that would help. Too far from anything that he could grab. A buck against the crushing force, he hears a growl. The claws break through, a sharp pain causing the ensnared corporal to fight harder.
There is no logic. John had to escape the ruler’s hold. A pull on the chains showing they are strong as he fights with a feral intensity. There must be a breaking point! If his shoulders get pulled out of the fucking socket…
“Almost…” whispers Davoth, the hands sliding higher.
NO!
The black slaps him like a backhand. His head drops before his eyes are closed, and he cannot feel the lord’s grip. The last thing he sees being a smug grin and blood-stained fangs.
The next things he can sense are a pounding head and a warmth on his chest. A flash of red irises, and he stares at the wall. Both hands still chained, he lies on his side again, a normal hand sliding across his face to turn toward Davoth, who is now missing his jacket. The first few buttons of his shirt undone, his tattoos invisible. His other arm moves below, having John glance down as it touches his hip.
A chill goes down the marine’s spine when it finds his ass. His legs clench, blocking the entrance. Davoth ignores his defense, the hand forcing them apart to have a finger play with his hole. The tip just teasing the muscle when he tells John to relax, or find out why they had to wait to complete the toy’s transformation.
The order obeyed to be rewarded with pleasure when the digit slips in, and the man closes his eyes. This would not be like at the palace. There was no way he would be of that much use. What could he do that would make Davoth keep him for more than a round? This should be quick…
The finger works the hole as he shudders. This is so much worse than the beatings. His body acting like it was supposed to give the lord a second of attention. The slow grind against his walls feels good, as if the one doing this was a different, better partner. Fighting to not hear the soft purrs of praise when his entrance accepts a couple more fingers, he moans through the tie. Each time he’s stretched shivering on the cold floor, wishing the damn circle would activate and Davoth could do whatever he desired. Just take what he wants so the man can leave. Go back to bed and… escape this fucking torture.
The hand playing with his ass retreats. With a groan, John notices his hole does not close right away, as if asking for them to return. A light slap on a globe promises there will be more before a fist yanks him up. Davoth reaches behind, tapping the chain to have them unfurl and sink into the floor. The spot where the corporal was previously chained back to normal when he lets his arms fall to the side. Only the bruises on his wrists prove this wasn’t an illusion. Shaking fingers rip out the tie, the saliva-soaked silk chucked aside as the ruler watches, smiling at the man.
“Are you happy now?” hisses John, getting into a kneeling position to stand up. Swaying as he leans on the desk, thankful when he keeps his shaky footing.
Davoth shakes his head and takes a hand. “Not quite, my lovely toy. There is one more thing I want from you… Just a quick final test.”
“What? So you can beat the shit out of me again?” almost freezing when he tears free. But not so stunned he can’t jump away, rushing for the window.
He would figure it all out when he got there!
“Are you sure you should do that?” yells Davoth, causing the man to turn and see the red eyes return.
“Yeah!” focusing on the glass panes once more.
Then stops dead in his tracks. The chill of the deadliest winters is nothing compared to the beast before him. Almost as massive as the room, its sheer size hides the entire place from his view. The limited space makes it bend and twist like a serpent when the long neck of the black-scaled creature encircles his body. The great claws longer than a rifle, it opens its jaws to reveal teeth that could pierce his heart and come out the other end. A single red eye stares him down as tall leathery wings create a tent, trapping the marine inside.
“Are you sure about that?” Davoth asks again from the beast’s maw.
“What do you want with me?” John whispers, shrinking as this illusion seems more real. The warmth of the scales and hot breath making his skin sweat. The floor shaking when it moves and thumps its tail.
“What an adorable creature you are, toy! All that training, and you still have fight in there. Why do you squander this on an enemy you can never kill?”
“Fine, I get the message, enough with the illusions.”
“Who said I was using those anymore?” a claw lifts the man’s chin, so he sees the spikes on wide jaws and a pair of horns. “Does the little marine fear the truth that much?”
“Don’t fuck with me!”
“Oh no, I would never do that. That would be a waste of both of our time. You are in my possession. All I offer you is reality and my kindness.”
“Then let me leave. You got what you needed, right? I can—”
“John, you know that is not how this works. You are for my entertainment. The breeder is for my actual needs. Again, you act so important. Try to understand that you are mine, or I will have a few marines help with that lesson.”
The corporal lets the claw stroke his face for a moment before dropping his gaze. Hands now at his side, the creature chuckles and shrinks. In seconds, once more, the lord. A hand reaching out for John, the man takes it to be pulled forward, chest to chest as he hears a growl. The hold leaving, touches travel down his spine and hip, having him beside Davoth to walk to the desk.
Then bent over the large wooden surface. More force pushing down causes the marine to brace when the bigger torso rests on his back, a hot breath blowing over his nape. A shudder for his user when the fingers caress his body, feeling everything as if rediscovering the marine’s form.
The kind gesture mocks him when the digits make their way to the true prize, a fist around his cock to stroke the shaft before John can voice any protest. A gasp echoes in the room when he gets forced lower, facedown on the desktop so his ass is in the air. Groaning as the ruler has him hard and leaking with skilled fingers on the manhood and his thighs, rubbing the sensitive areas like a familiar lover. The sick irony keeping him cautious as he wants to hurry this up and bucks his hips.
“Someone is impatient…” purrs Davoth, slowing to coax out a moan from his plaything. “Does the toy want to come?”
“Yes…” trying to not force the tone. Just enough fake over-stimulation used to sound as if he needed this.
“Then you can wait.”
“Just hurry up! You know what you want.”
“Hmm, your prevarication is better than I expected. The ease you lie to me, of all people, is amazing. Like a corrupt politician without being paid.”
“Thought you preferred a needy hole that begs.”
“That is true, however, you need more than that to impress me. Even a fucktoy like you can figure out what to do next.”
John glances at the lord for a second, his posture falling as he knows what this means. A gentle hand sliding to hold the one on his cock, he rights himself while removing the restraint the other has on him. Sat up, he turns around to see Davoth watch as he unbuttons his shirt, showing a normal chest. This form looking so much more like the Slayer when the marine moves to touch the circle. The arm gets stopped with a harsh grip; a shake of the head tells him to do something else. The toy had to entertain without his most convenient feature.
His heart skips a beat at the implication. Hands shaking as who knows where this will end for him. Not after all the goodwill he destroyed only days ago.
Was any mercy too much for the ruler? Did Davoth get off on his suffering? Or the fact he would refuse if he had a choice?
With a defeated sigh and shaky breath, John asks in a low voice, “Should we start?” forcing a smile as he leans back on the desk. A bite of the lip keeps both from quivering when he holds out a hand to take the bigger arm. A light pull used to lead Davoth forward.
John’s legs open to show his hard shaft. The man next places the other’s palm on his thigh, glancing at his erection with a titter. A small shiver has it sway as he turns to the lord, the hand not holding Davoth's touching the lord’s exposed chest. The familiar curves and valleys he felt last time they were together offering him something to work with. A quick blink helps him focus on the muscles as he parts his lips. A slow lick of them seems to invite the ruler to rip off his shirt and lay the marine on the desk.
Fingertips trace his stomach. The corporal follows his orders again, taking the hand to guide toward his mouth, slipping a couple of fingers inside. Gazes locked when he licks the digits, pretending that the sweet taste is nothing like candy when he massages the tips with his tongue. Or how much he wants to keep doing this when they become slick. Fast flicks and long swipes over each one, telling his user how ready he was for what comes next.
However, when the lord is satisfied, he takes his time pulling out. No way to speed this up, John must watch as the fingers slip out with a measured retreat. No matter how much he wants to pretend the strand of spit is not his doing when a fingertip slides over his lips. The arm is now quick to travel down his body. The drops that hit his chest mix with sweat as he sucks in air. Fingertips circle his hole as he is told to stay relaxed. The entrance feels slick as it smears on the muscle, opening just a little when Davoth pushes down.
“What are you doing?” John asks, staying still when a hand hovers over his throat. “I think we need more than spit… You are bigger than Slayer, and he uses the circle.”
“This isn’t spit. Not anymore,” pushing through to make the toy gasp. When there is no pain and the hole relaxes again, he slips in deeper, making the man bite his lip. The lord working the entrance open as he says, “As much as I would love to see your intestines glued to my cock, that is not an option. Not yet.”
“What?” whispers the marine before another finger joins. The hand plowing his ass like an untilled field until he jolts at the electric storm that explodes in his prostate.
His entire body is alight as he grabs the ruler’s face and plays along. His brain is on fire as he does the only thing he knows would drive the other crazy. The moment it enters his mind, pulling Davoth down to have their lips collide with a bruising force that makes the lord purr. John groaning with his user as both move to let the marine open his mouth. Fangs bite his lip, and a tongue tastes him, the ruler lapping up the offering he creates like a hungry god. His toy bucking his hips as he breathes faster, the fingers not stopping as John’s stretched and filled. The harsh thrusts forcing moans into the lustful tyrant’s mouth to be swallowed with everything else. A curl of the digits deep in the tunnel having John close his eyes while shuddering against his will.
Then Davoth stops and leaves the man’s head spinning. A smile at what he had done to the prone marine, he straightens as his hand slows, pulling it out to leave the hole open. After a last look at the entrance, the lord steps back and unzips his pants, the sound of teeth echoing in the large room.
The watching man braces as the elephant-sized cock of this user springs free and hovers over. His entire body paling at the view, the massive head twitches at his reaction. Lips shut tight when hands grab his legs and wrench them open. Instead of frowning, forcing a grin as the other licks his fangs and smirks, raising a brow in challenge. The marine chuckling as he plays right along.
The horny fucker was the same as the rest. Just craved a warm space… and he can work with that. Now guiding the cock to the waiting hole with a flick of his eyes. A careful touch on his stomach having the other see what he teases to loom over. The broad torso keeps the toy’s legs wide open as Davoth grabs each wrist and pulls them away from the circle. A growl causing John to chuckle as he lowers his eyelids and gives a smug grin.
“How is that for proactive?” he asks, not flinching when the lord comes closer. The corners of his lips falling a little when Davoth laughs and kisses his chest.
“You did just what I ordered. Not bad… Now let me give you what you asked for,” yanking the man into a sitting position. “I suggest you hold on tight.”
“What does—” pulled off the desk and lifted into the air. Both arms forced to cling to the lord’s neck, a hand finds each of his ass cheeks and holds him as if he weighed nothing. The broad head poking his entrance when he takes a deep breath and whispers, “Get started.”
“As you wish,” slamming the man down with a grunt.
Past the point of no return, John feels the massive glans split him wide open. Every inch of the shaft pushes its way inside as all he can do is stare into the uncaring gaze of the lord. His tunnel yielding to the inhuman size when he groans and wonders when he is going to tear.
And yet, all he could do was rest his head on a shoulder and shake as he could not stop being full. Right before he lets out a shaky exhale as the impaling ends long enough to breathe. A quick squeeze warning him before he gets pulled off and moans. Then made to slide back down as he wonders how in Hell he is not bleeding when the only warmth comes from a throbbing cock slick with spit.
But Davoth is more interested in the toy doing his duty when he bucks his hips and has John bouncing on his cock. The second he is hilt deep, having the man ride him hard. The hold on the marine’s ass only growing worse as the lord growls through gritted teeth and listens to moans of restrained pleasure.
Both know he should not be wanting this. And how he should be threatening to rip off the dick currently having his prostate screaming. The harsh thrusts and crushing grip of Davoth and John respectively were a strange, horrible, confusing mess. And nothing is going to make him pull out as he bites a lip and tries not to howl. The laugh of the other making him keep his mouth shut when he’s told to scream all he wants. Would love to see who would come running to investigate. Plenty of the guards here want a reason to take a break.
“Fuck…” growls John. Right before Davoth stops and bends forward, the marine clinging to the tyrant with all his strength. A low hiss having a larger arm around his waist as they move, and the man tenses every muscle in his body.
He almost lets out a sound as he gets slammed onto the desk, and items go flying.
The fucking resumes like they never stopped. The girth punching his guts as all he hears is the repeated grunts of a feral Hell lord. The voice of an aroused Davoth speaking words John cannot understand. Each syllable is gruff and quick as he seems to chant something. The enormous cock continuing to plow the hole when the owner grunts and the thrusts only slow.
The shaft is still moving as it throbs, and John receives every pulse of the orgasm. A soft exhale blowing hot air on his skin as he shuts his eyes and counts the seconds to being freed. His guts feeling full even as the head that ruined his insides pulls out with zero grace. The come gushing out as more dribbles off the softening girth. A groan helps him continue breathing as he stares at the ceiling and pretends his ass can close right. His lungs filling when he sees Davoth has more stamina. Not at all slowing as he has the marine arch his spine when a hand finds his chest and locates the spots that should have him wanting to beg. Instead, remaining silent to not show how much he wants to finish.
Or how badly he wants to shudder when Davoth forces his legs apart to slip a digit inside. The last bit of composure he had used to not let a shiver go down his spine. His body once more set on fire by the lord’s otherworldly touches. After getting healed in Hell, he still feels full by the second finger as a shadow looms over him. The soft red glow of Davoth’s eyes was mesmerizing. The gaze drawing him deeper into this trap as the limb keeps a steady pace. Not too slow, it was a good constant. The hand hitting the right spots as he pretends his stomach is not twisting itself into knots. A small smile inviting the third to keep him open.
His head rises when he reaches for his cock. A shaking arm about to grasp the shaft when it’s brushed aside with a flick of the wrist; the ruler got the message. The three digits plowing his hole go faster.
John’s mouth opens in a soft groan. Another pair of lips finds his. He couldn’t be sure when he hugged Davoth’s torso with his knees. This time acknowledging how the other takes it slow, Davoth’s focus on the man. As if he wanted to tease out each sound that the toy muffles in his throat. Only stopping when he gets a moan as the fingers send lightning up John’s spine. The kiss ending with about as much grace to leave the marine blinking and shaking under the bigger body.
The lord smirks and gets between the open thighs to rub the soft inner flesh, lifting his face to stare at the corporal. A low exhale is heard as the fingertips dance over some skin, offering a sense of false calm when they go higher. The promise of more having John play along and shiver when the hand returns to his cock. Slow strokes once more having him groan. The other pushes him further onto the desk, his head rolling to the side until he’s told with a tap on the cheek to look at the ruler.
A glance at the smile on Davoth’s face, he copies the expression. John knows exactly what this one wants, grabbing his chin with a tight laugh. The action no different than with any other man when he brings their lips together with a moan. The taste of something sweet on the tongue that again claims him. A soft and slow pull drags them deeper as he shakes with every jerk on his dick. Deep into the kiss when a spark rushes up his spine, and he bucks his hips. The fingers go faster as he gets pinned to the cold surface with the taller fiery frame and shivers. His body in total bliss, his mind races with the approaching end. A swift retreat letting him gasp for air as Davoth purrs.
The marine smiles as he catches his breath, guiding the impatient sire to his chest to keep busy. Quick whispers to let him come answered by two hands playing with his body, teasing with how close he was. Sharp words and quiet pleas get Davoth to smile and pull off as he gets on his knees. A sound of confusion met with a chuckle when lips wrap around John's cock. Almost coming right there when the lord doesn’t wait to have his toy all the way inside before swirling his tongue like this was natural for him.
And when John ends up in the back and gasping, the tightness only gets better. An utter mess, he whimpers like the circle was in full effect. Mind racing and lips begging for this to not stop as he sees a glint in the other’s eyes. The smug aura never leaving despite the switch in position as the glans end up squeezed by the tight throat, while John arches his spine.
The man nearly screams when the other moves to the top and comes off to give the slit a slow lick before forcing it inside. A long massage over the shaft squeezing the entire length to have him too far gone. His head a blank white void when he moans as he shoots into the lord. Who works him with the same attention as before to make sure not a drop remains when the shaking toy goes limp and struggles to suck in air. A hand over his lips when he damn near whines, and the softening cock flops out of the warm hole. Heavy breathing echoes in the office when Davoth stands up. Neither saying a word when the ruler opens his mouth and has come spill into an open palm.
Or when he looks at the stuff with a slight frown. The whole mess wiped on a pants leg before he sighs and whispers the seed was inadequate, adding more in his hellish tongue.
Davoth wipes his lips with a couple of fingers. Cleaning off the little that sticks when he says to John, “I suppose that is enough. For now.”
“Great…” John growls, trying to get up when he’s pushed back down. The palm pinning him to the desk when he snaps, “Hey—”
“Oh no, we are not done. I am not finished with you, John. There is one more thing I need from you,” a knife appearing in his hand. “But first, we are missing an important person…”
The speaker by the door activates for Chelsea to announce a man named Mort has arrived. Davoth tells her to let him in when the lock turns green, opening for a guy older than Sarge to stroll in. A smile on his wrinkled face, it matches the lord’s grin when he walks over. A glance at the weapon only makes him chuckle as he hides his arms behind his back. The dull light in his blue eyes giving John a familiar air of discomfort when the lines in his visage deepen with this glee. A growing feeling that he had seen this person before…
The unease only increases when he listens to Davoth greet the stranger with a touch on the shoulder, handing the new man the blade.
The marine is about to fight when he hears the ruler say, “Ah, Mort, it took you long enough. What were you doing that was so important?” his smile morphing into a disgusted frown.
The stranger laughs and examines the blade. “I do apologize. Shareholders have expectations, and the more vocal ones wanted answers about their next payment. You should understand the frustration of dealing with such... committees. And while you may not be a CEO—”
“No, because I do not allow such parasites to dictate my decisions. Don’t let it happen again, or I must wonder who is your true priority...”
“Of course,” the smile faltering. “Maybe an extra afternoon with the twins will make up for it? Both impressed you before. Or perhaps another polar bear to keep this time? I have enough complete genetic material for a few more.”
“Hmmm, I suppose we could speak about this after the ritual… If you can do that right. Do not disappoint me again, Mort,” a hand gripping the man’s shoulder.
“As you wish, venerable one…” raising the blade.
The silver edge catches sunlight as Davoth grabs the toy by the throat and keeps him still. The hold gagging John when the tip pierces flesh, blood spilling when the weapon gets ripped from the wound. The knife plunges between two ribs to cut off a scream as the lord starts chanting. Though it grows louder when the old man repeats the demonic language. No human words are heard when a crimson arc flies in the air. Thick droplets spray everywhere to paint the walls and tablets. The stones the last thing John sees before the black consumes him with icy fingers.
John’s eyelids snap open when hard slaps drag him back to consciousness. Still in the same office, the hand remains on his throat. A gasp for air made impossible as the fingers tighten on his larynx, his body no longer in pain.
“Do not surrender to such weakness, John,” says Davoth, pressing another palm against his captive’s belly. “You did so well before. Prove you can fight...” flicking his gaze to Mort.
The old man nods and pushes the tip into the corporal’s chest. But with this stab, he keeps it closer to the surface, dragging the point down his ribs, the skin opening to ooze blood. A finger separates the outer layer from the muscle. The marine he carves slams his head on the hard desktop. John’s jaws locked in his fight to remain silent. With a flick of the fingers, the entire piece lifts off, and he cannot breathe. His lungs quit working. The muscles in his neck tighten, squeezing itself shut. A rough kick dodged to have Mort grip his arm. Davoth grabs his wrist at the same time, wrenching it in the air.
John only staring as the knife returns. Helpless to stop the blade once more slice open flesh. Not even the sob caught in his throat enough to end this when the skin peels off the meat. The entire limb radiates a pulsing, throbbing, mind-numbing pain as his head falls to the side, and his gaze locks on the mutilated arm. Not turning when the other one gets raised in the air. His eyes squeezed shut as the tip pierces and slices a tendon.
He can’t even be sure which is worse as the skin rips and rolls away. His body shakes as the old man comments on his state with a laugh. Davoth telling him to keep going.
The corporal is fighting for air as he begs for a stray bullet to fly through the window and kill him. The lord slapping him so hard his jaws rattle while ordering him to not give up yet. Mort had more samples to collect from him.
“Davoth...” he croaks, opening one eye. “I did what you wanted.”
“How true. And you still are. Now behave, or you can walk back afterward. Mort, keep going. I thought you wished to remain in my graces.”
“Of course... wise lord...” the CEO’s voice quaking as he steps forward. “What should I get first?”
“Pick for yourself. You have two options.”
John doesn't even hear whatever sad sniveling this follower says next. The snide voice of the older man grating as he shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. At last screaming when the lord flips him over and the knife is plunged into his spine. A pain where metal meets bone, he is howling when the sensation is murdered and the edge vibrates against his skeleton. An order to not stop collecting the last thing he hears before he passes out.
Only a bone shaking slap from the ruler bringing him back. And no amount of crying is going to set him free. The screams to stop rile the torturers as they shut him up with a stab to the throat. A gurgle silencing his pleas as he's told to scream as much as he wants now. They had plenty of time to finish this if he wanted to resist. The glint of a metal bowl above making sure he watches everything. Sides shaking as he suffocates, he accepts how much Davoth had not forgiven his past actions. A small smile on his lips as he's lifted to have blood stream from his neck into the gray vessel. His head lulling to the side, he can see each drop fall from his body.
A final exhale letting him fall into a longer slumber. Free of the pain as he floats in the darkness.
***
John gasps as his eyes open to see a different gray ceiling, blue eyes watching him with worry. A large hand touches his cheek as the battle-scarred face of the Slayer smiles and pulls him into a warm embrace. Strong arms around his shaking body when he’s back in uniform. The fabric too tight on his skin, he still refuses to move when he feels this safe. His hold on the larger torso was a comfort this time, the familiar figure once more showing him kindness. Not even the entire Navy could tear him free of the warrior when he swallows a sob and buries his head in the bigger man.
The Slayer seems to not mind the strange behavior, just letting John hang on like he was hanging from a cliff. The smallest of touches saying to take his time. Both men still not looking at each other as their breathing slows. Neither cares who watches as they say nothing. The warmth of this marine’s body is all the corporal needs as he lets the world fall into the background.
He really loved this man. What did he do to deserve this guy in his life?
Notes:
I just couldn't be nice to the corporal, even after the last chapter. There is no way he was going to get out of this alive so easily with Davoth's track record so far...
I might try to be nicer next time, but I do promise that the next chapter is going to be lighter with its scenery. I've been waiting for an excuse to give the marines new outfits to enjoy some sand and serf. I hope y'all like fat asses and tight speedos, I wanted to do something inspired by summer.
Chapter 15: A Fitting Prize For The Rabid Guard Dog
Summary:
Davoth has discovered an ancient artifact and decides to make a day out with his child and breeder. The Slayer finds out what happened to John in Davoth's office before, only to be left asking questions after some alone time with the corporal. John deals the previous trauma, but soon forgets all about that when Baal decides to put their hoof down with their Daddy. All taking in the sun and sand once the dust settles.
But this fun day at the beach goes from fun to weird to bad when unwanted visitors decide to take advantage of the excavation to deal with the heir.
GHB: a known date rape drug, it is known for its effects of euphoria, drowsiness, decreased anxiety, confusion, memory loss, increased libido, and unconsciousness. Often a colorless liquid or white powder, it often mixed with beverages like alcohol to be ingested.
Functional analog: chemical compounds that have similar physical, chemical, biochemical, or pharmacological properties. Functional analogs are not necessarily structural analogs with a similar chemical structure.
Notes:
Just going to say this was way longer than I had planned, but it is also in four parts, so I hope it's easy enough to read however you like. There will also be a bit of breeder talk, so enjoy!
Just letting you all know, there will be cannibalism and body carving, but not involving the kids (directly).
Chapter Text
If the Slayer were to concede this second, he would without hesitation. You need not raise a gun to make him spill such an evident confession.
It would be impossible to not admit how hot he feels watching John do his workout. Dressed in a baggy sleeveless shirt and a pair of shorts that hug the top half of his thighs, the other marine looks a good kind of different from the standard uniform. The equally magnificent view of his body so easy to savor when focusing on the waist down. Not as great as without the attire, but he knows to behave. The closeness of the man sweating only feet away, he wonders why he didn't do this himself sooner, when less far along.
But the warrior accepts what would happen if he wore that around most people. Those clothes would get ruined before the third user. Definitely after the first demon…
The Slayer shakes his head and shifts on the thick mat where he sits. John had said it was better for him to be there, so as not to waste a spot on a machine. The man wonders why he agreed to go at all. This is such a sudden thing for the corporal, and there’s not a lot he could do to help with the exercises. Thankfully, the mats here are comfortable and he is not so big that he needs much assistance standing.
Another glance at the great mound sticking out of him shows he’s farther along, the large swollen belly going well past his growing breasts. From this angle, it’s also full enough to hide the fat that cushions his thighs and hips. The strange, curious pang he gets at the awareness warming his face. Maybe the corporal was thinking about it too... just not saying anything out of pity.
So instead of worrying about that, he sets his gaze on the smaller marine as he grunts to count push-ups. An extra loud one marking his finish to sit up and take a long drink.
His sole audience member does the same with his eyes, now asking, “So uh, why this? Why the gym today? Rarely go.”
“I come here every day I can,” replies John, leaning back to look at the weights along the wall. “The thing is, I wait for you to leave most days. Like when you are in the bastard’s room or when he wants to keep you busy. Helps me not choose to break a wall, or kill certain people. A safe outlet, as the professionals call it.”
“Right…”
“I realize; didn’t want to with how tired you get. This was stupid, but I couldn’t put it off any longer after my punishment in Hell and the office. Needed something to help. I don't like taking out frustrations on the wrong person.”
“No, this is fine. Hate sitting around. Alone.”
“Yeah, but still… I should know better with my experience.”
“Can’t be by myself. Too many followers.”
“Now you are just trying to justify—”
“No, Kelly—”
“Don’t say anymore. That is the only justification we need for this entire workout. Especially after the trip to Hell.”
“That’s fair,” thinking about that whole… visit with the three of them.
The Slayer wanted to be mad at the man for lying to him and the child, but it was too chaotic to remember things right. And even if he did, the reason why would only cause the other to lose either way. No justification would ever be enough for the lord. Or at least enough to ever forgive this without a lot of apologizing. The Slayer is unsure how he got off so lightly with the treatment in Hell and just some throttling in the office. Even if John acted a little different—sticking closer to the warrior—thanks to both incidents.
After Kelly left them alone and John went quiet, he lost whatever tether he had to the real world and tricked Baal into bringing them to Hell. Right before jumping at the first baron he found. Then at any of the other demons that join the fight, all while still shooting at the imposing demon as it fights anything that gets in the way. Baal plays along and makes it worse by saying it was only a game and telling more to play with them. The child laughing until they cough at the lord's calls to stop the toy, while a summoner brought more creatures to gun down, and things get blurry.
The entire battle comprises of the wild pair using the kid to fuck with demons while John screams he wasn’t going out like a coward. Wanted to end this the correct way. Without any of them standing. At least, that’s how the Slayer recalls events.
Or was that when John was screaming he needed to bloody his knuckles while getting told to stop…?
Either way, after Davoth rises out of the lava river they find, the corporal is on the ground and the lord has to calm down an excited Baal. The situation resolved with multiple beatings and who knows how much healing for the other marine. Davoth said it was because he brought the heir, let the breeder run through Hell, and got their father worried. Adding that if the man wanted to die, he could fix John’s brain with the hell priests’ help. Saying he would claw any runes the holy men needed into the toy's flesh himself.
The Slayer blinks as he recalls what he had to do while John was healing, fine with distracting the angry lord if it meant not thinking about it while using the collar. He couldn’t criticize their reactions, the ruler and corporal both right to do what they did. The warrior not one to judge after what he did to that heir before they were born.
Plus, the lord was kind enough to let them talk after it all happened. Discussing more heirs under the collar’s influence earned special treatment. Begging to have more next time like a shot of pure lust to both when riding Davoth. A few rounds leaving the lord more than happy to leave his breeder a mess when he slinked off to the safety of John's room—the only place demons refused to enter for whatever reason.
So instead of dwelling on such lapses in judgment, he says, “Don’t blame you. For before. Should blame me—”
“Do not say another word,” snapping to point a finger and make the warrior straighten. “You need to understand one very important fact. That was my plan. I never told you any part of the plan. And I am not surprised it ended the way it did. Got that? None of my insanity involved you.”
“You are mine, John.”
The corporal blinks at the words, his lips a straight line when he averts his gaze. A hand curling into a fist, he takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “Yeah, I know. No need to announce it to the planet.”
There is not much the Slayer could say back, his shoulders falling as he looks at his feet. There is no point in continuing the subject when he could feel the fetus react to their tension with a light pang.
Again keeping his thoughts unsaid as he asks, “Can I help? Should move a little. Whatever you need.”
This has John straighten and kneel in front of the Slayer. “Is everything good? Should I call a doctor?”
“No. Just want to.”
“Okay, yeah. Was going to do some crunches, then a few more pull-ups. Can you help with that?”
With a nod, he pushes himself onto his knees and makes room for John to lie down on the mat. A firm hold on the man’s feet, he watches the other grunt as he counts. A slight smile shared as sweat again soaks the gym clothes.
But their faces fall when heavy boots thud on the hard floor nearby. The footsteps telling them Kelly approaches before either can get a look. He holds his PDA and orders them to follow. Davoth was waiting for them in the office. The Sergeant looking extra annoyed to be acting as a messenger, he snatches John’s bag and walks out of the gym. The entire room watching as he yells at them to not waste time, had to be driving out before noon. John having a few specific words he growls as he jumps to his feet and grabs the Slayer’s arm. A yell to not do anything weird with his things met with a glare as Kelly tells him to stop projecting.
After a long walk and many stares all the way to the elevator, the two marines stand by the large bare desk as Davoth holds Baal. The lord gazes at their outfits before he snaps John clean. A slow lick of his lips ignored by the smaller man as the Slayer leans on the desktop and groans, regretting how fast he walked here. The gym was on the opposite end of this building and more of a journey than most days. He should have known he was too pregnant for this intense of a workout. And then he has to walk back to his bed…
Davoth gets up from his seat and takes the Slayer’s hand, making him lay out on the couch. The child in his arms as he’s told to rest, there was good news. A happy squeak showing Baal was aware of the surprise. The warrior unzips his jumpsuit for a feeding, but they instead rip it open to his ribs, burrowing into the orange attire. He can see they had grown quite a bit since they got to this base. The already filled fabric stretched at the seams, the second heir is about the size of a toddler now. The longer limbs and smaller belly making it easy to slide around the tight space with careful hooves and quick hands. A giggle prompting him to sigh and help the sudden, excited exploration. Fingers tapping on their back as they chase the hand.
“What is going on?” the warrior asks, adjusting to let them find his navel.
Davoth watches while he replies, “Today we are heading to the coast for an important discovery. An item from an ancient enemy has been unearthed, and I want it in my possession.”
“Sounds boring for an heir,” grabbing a hoof to play with. The hard bottom is less restrained than before when they nail his hands.
“And that’s why you are joining us. You and the toy are going to make sure they stay busy and away from anywhere dangerous.”
“They are safe to, to, to go at all?” hearing a grunt by his ribs as the hoof rips out of his grip. “Coasts are… you know…”
“That is why you are watching them. The children would do well to learn about different worlds for the future when they are given a position. Besides, Baal asked to visit an ocean made of water this time. How could I deny such a request?” unzipping the Slayer’s jumpsuit even more to take Baal, leaving the top half undone.
“Could go to a proper beach where there are witnesses,” says John, planting himself in a chair. “Plenty of better things to do with a kid when others are around to see.”
Davoth walks back to the desk and replies, “If you are not in the mood for the coast, Mort has another ritual he needs done. Instead of a dying mortal, I can arrange for the sacrifice to be left alive.”
John's change in attitude is immediate, his face changing from an ire-filled mask to something far more subdued. “If that’s what the kid wants, I will grab a swimsuit. Not a big deal.”
“Good,” smirking as the man keeps his mouth shut, without giving an angry look in return.
The Slayer blinks at the very sudden modification in the corporal’s reaction. The way the smaller marine no longer fights and hurls insults at the lord like a kiss after a backhand.
A hand on the couch to sit up, the warrior asks in a low voice, “What are you talking about? What ritual? John.”
The man looks at his shoes, shaking his head as he grips an arm of the chair. A glance at Davoth seems to signal for the ruler to speak.
Who accepts the opening to lower his eyelids and explain, “I let the CEO take John for a ritual the day he went missing. I’m sure you saw when he left, and got returned. A follower mentioned you acted anxious and held the toy tight after he came back.”
“Is that why... you said nothing?” he asks, seeing John give a slow nod. “I see...”
Davoth chuckles and replies, “Do not feel pity for those who cannot handle a simple ritual, despite being allowed to live. You were better at being cut and having runes carved into your flesh. Even the time I used you for the oracle. Yes, you wanted to beg for mercy with the collar activated. But John was begging before the CEO degloved his hands and chest. A basic carving and harvest that would usually end with me putting the offering down, I was merciful to let him live. He actually sobbed after I got some meat off his spine and neck. Kept asking me to make the man stop.
“Be thankful I was in a good mood after his previous talk. That was the only reason I was nice enough to leave him with you instead of making him walk back. I think he would have done well if all my followers were allowed to get a turn. Right, Baal?” getting the kid to nod and say that’s what a toy is for. Can always fix any missing parts, make them better.
The Slayer blinks as he stares at a silent John. Who now fists his water bottle with a shaking arm, his eyes wide as he looks at nothing. A slight frown from the warrior as he scans the corporal’s face for signs that something snapped in the man. The distant stare was not as… sorrowful as last time. None of the energy he possessed when tricking Baal into playing along with his plan.
But he still moves when John straightens to look out the window with the same unfocused gaze. The Slayer on his feet with a groan to stand in his line of sight and touch a shoulder. In a hushed tone, he asks, “Hey, you okay?”
The corporal furrows his brows and focuses on the Slayer’s face. Brushing aside the hand, he replies, “That was nothing compared to my last mission. I’ve had twice the pain from more humane torturers. The interrogation that got me sent to Mars was worse. At least then I was afraid of dying. Don’t even remember most of the ritual.”
“Yeah, you are right. Was overreacting, am, am, am cautious of those duties.”
John squints at this response, his stare growing more intense as he scans the Slayer’s face. But after a pregnant pause, he looks at the baby belly and remains quiet. The conversation dead with a last glance at the lord, as if to say who should fill the silence.
Davoth stands and walks over to the door. After telling Chelsea he would be out of the office the rest of the day, he turns to the men with a grin as he opens a portal. “Slayer, take the toy and wait by the main entrance. A follower will arrive with a vehicle and some packed bags. All of your things shall be found in one of them.”
Both men get up without a word, the Slayer taking John’s hand when he is slow to follow. After zipping up his jumpsuit and getting a quick kiss on the cheek from Davoth, he steps through to find their backs hide the empty section of wall where they exit. A blink as sunlight hits his face, he hurries around the corner to a path with barely any people on it. A few nodding as they notice him, the man pulls the corporal to his side and keeps walking. The air surrounding the Slayer is much more lively and energetic than he feels when they spot the large sign that marks the front of the building. And the last part of the base not filled with vehicles and imposing fencing as far as he can see. The odd bot towering above the walls in the distance ensuring he never lets go of John when he adverts his gaze to the skies. The quiet rumble of a distant engine heard while a cluster of ships flies overhead to cast a shadow on the pair.
Not long after, a tall black vehicle rolls to a stop for the door in the front to open and a marine without his armor to step out. A hand raised in greeting, he gestures to a few large bags on his shoulders. “Ready to go, Slayer?” he asks, flashing a smile.
“Yeah.”
“Good,” chucking the baggage through a small doorway in the side. “Now, the venerable one says to change in the Roamer. Wants you both in your beach outfits before he arrives. He’ll meet you on the way there.”
“Great…” glaring as the back of their transport opens to show two rows of seats facing each other. The tight space tall enough for him to step inside, there’s not much room to stretch his legs. John's hand freed for him to sit down, the man shows the other how bad this is going to be. Just watching as he sees the corporal turn his hips to get comfortable.
The Slayer sighs and steps up, grabbing a bar to pull himself inside. Only to stumble, his boot caught on the lip of the doorway. A grunt and the seated man jumps to his feet, reaching out a hand.
The other marine is faster, catching him with a playful chuckle. The new man asking, “Need some help?” as his hands slide down to grab the warrior’s hips.
“Know what you earned,” he hisses back, accepting the other marine's hand to pull him into the vehicle; not saying a word as he pushes the button to close the exit. Already seated when he takes a long breath and relaxes. Thankful when he glances toward the front to see the two halves of their ride are separated by a locked glass door. A red bag slides between his feet as the engine comes to life, and he sees the Roamer drive off through a rear window. The UAC sign growing smaller while they drive for the main road, he turns when John moves around.
The corporal’s face blank, he opens a blue bag to dig out some clothes his size. His eyes squint when he lays out everything, seeing how none of it is a uniform or jumpsuit. Instead, the pieces seem to be another sleeveless shirt, along with a pair of sandals and a skimpy black bottom. The man pauses as he looks at the final item. A stretch of the fabric to look at the simple swim briefs, he finds that the sides that would hug his hips are about two fingers wide. A slow turn shows that the front and back offer better coverage, more fabric on both sides to hold everything inside. Not a word is said as he stares, his eyes scanning the attire with an unsurprising air. As if expecting this, he doesn’t even sound more than tired when he sighs and tosses it onto the pile.
Nor does he complain when he strips, seeming to take his time as the ride is smooth. The slow removal of the gym outfit has the Slayer recline and rub his belly, watching his marine slide on the swimsuit. He smiles, pleased to learn the cut covers everything like he predicted. The front of the bottom does a great job accentuating the bulge while the back hugs his ass. The sides doing their duty of keeping the entire piece in place when he packs his dirty clothes in a smaller bag and bends over to hide the whole thing under the seat. His eyes flicking to the Slayer when he parts his lips.
Now asking the bigger marine, “What are you thinking? What’s with that dumb grin? Never seen clothing like this before? I’ve done your laundry, so...”
“No, just new seeing someone else, else, else in it. Not a lot who would. On either Earth or in Hell.”
“Wore something similar in Hell?” standing up to slip on the baggy shirt and open the Slayer’s bag. “That fucker is bold with his…interests.”
“Not quite. Leggings at the palace. That kind of thing is, is, is for Earth.”
“Yes…” pulling out a pair of very small black swimming shorts and a white crop top. “Hope you weren’t pregnant on the last one. No, you said both were in Hell. Need me to put this on? This might be worse than the jumpsuit.”
“Yeah, first pregnancy out of Immora. And I think… think so. Too tight in here.” He turns away as he admits this surrender. Biting the inside of a cheek when John nods and lifts a boot to untie.
Why did he have to be this helpless? Why was he doing this except to obey an aggravating order? Fuck, was this how it had to go?
John grabs his attention and brings him back into the Roamer. A slow unzip of the jumpsuit revealing his top, the Slayer sees how close they are when the corporal stands in front of him. A slow lean in closing the distance to pull the warrior forward and slip off the top half.
John’s voice is tender when he says, “Hey, no need to be so stiff. I’ve done this kind of thing before. Not going to be weird just because I’m getting you naked. The collar ain’t activated, and you are not giving birth, so I have no reason to do more than this.”
The Slayer blinks as he glances at the slow fingers, taking a deep breath as a hand helps him off the seat. Then plopping back down to watch the entire suit get put in the bag. But John never looks uncomfortable when he moves at a steady pace to slide off his underwear. The same comforting smile and practiced motions remain the lower he goes, his eyes only staying on the clothing he removes. Not a hint of shame after all they had done, or where this might lead.
Soon, John grabs a clean top to go over the one he already wears, next grabbing the bottoms. Each piece he puts on is accompanied by a hum or chuckle, slow fingers sliding each one on with steady hands. Still acting just as calm as when he began while his captive audience fights to not lift a hand and create some distance. Both hands planted firmly at his side as they quiver, his mouth shut in a silent plea to not offer the other temptation.
With a final tug on the loose fabric over his chest, John has the other look decent when smoothing out all the wrinkles in the shirt. Next giving a quick fix to the white tops' hems while he sits beside the Slayer, letting the larger man see he was not getting much better than his marine. A slow rub around the protruding navel helps him relax, having to acknowledge John was honest again. No matter what he does, the corporal is remarkable like that. Not once showing arousal or acting flustered. The Slayer unable to hide the grin on his face while he scans the full outfit.
The crop top is a nice t-shirt cut that lets his massive baby bump breathe, while the shorts only cover his pelvis. Not an inch more than what encircles his hips, it curves up to outline his thighs. The tight fit is no worse than leggings or UAC uniforms, but he feels more comfortable when he splays out and sighs in these clothes. Then straightens just a little when a sudden thought burst forth into the front of his mind.
Wait, what did John mean when he said he had done this before? He mentioned nothing beyond the duties of a marine. What requires him to help dress someone? He didn’t say he had medical training or the qualifications of a doctor/nurse. Maybe something else? But what?
The questions, however, do not get an answer. One second he stares at the lowered gaze of the corporal. The next, an arm wraps around his shoulders, and a new set of green eyes meets his. Dressed in a button-up shirt, Davoth looks casual in a lighter pair of pants and less fancy shoes. Though the attire still appears expensive, and the quality of the material feels smooth when pulled into a hug to receive a kiss on the lips.
Then he turns and tells John, “Be useful and find what you need,” snapping for a black bag to land in the corporal’s lap.
The marine glaring at this order, Davoth raises a brow and turns back to the Slayer. Neither of the royals say a word when he resumes touching the breeder, already pulling him closer when a hand slips up the skintight shorts. A slow pull on the hem makes the cramped space feel claustrophobic. The fingers sliding in deeper to touch a hip before grabbing both legs and dragging him into the lord’s lap.
The Slayer gasps at the sudden relocation, stiffening when fingertips dig into his thighs and he hisses. A glare quiets any more noise when light strokes travel across his belly and chest. A whisper to stay still accompanied by a quick kiss. The small mental opening this creates allowing for the soft lips to return while hands play with his body. Both moaning as the man ignores the shift in the seat next to him.
The pair only pay attention to the corporal when his displeasure becomes more apparent and he growls. A click and the flash of black metal have both royals look at the smaller marine pointing a handgun at Davoth’s head. The barrel aimed right between his eyes.
The Slayer does not move, the trigger right by his ear. The exact opposite of the lord, who chuckles and turns to face what he treats like a mere annoyance. Without changing his expression, he waves an arm, sending the gun flying as the clip falls out on the floor.
“If you are that jealous about not getting attention,” Davoth snaps, “you can be trained to wait your turn. Otherwise, I must assume you did not learn your lesson from our first meeting. And that means I wasted time sparing you on Mars.”
“Maybe…” he replies as he glances at the two parts of the discarded gun. “We all made mistakes that day.”
“No, one of us did. The one who keeps testing the goodwill given to him. The fool who won’t stop destroying any chance at honor with his lower position.”
“Yes, I am throwing away so much by doing this,” glaring back until Davoth grabs his arm and chucks him across the vehicle. John’s body hitting the side to rock the Roamer, then crumpling on the seat with a grunt. Ire burning bright in his irises as he sits up and opens his mouth.
The Slayer adjusts from the force Davoth used and wraps his arms around the lord, clinging to his sturdy torso to see a change in posture. An arm encircling his waist, he glances at John, then Davoth, as he slides off and asks, “What should I do? On the beach… while wearing this?”
The other two stare at him through squinted gazes. This question seeming to snap them out of the tense standoff. The lord more so, taking it in stride as he says, “I didn’t realize the attire should affect you that much. We both know your limits. A swimsuit will not change a fucking thing.”
“Not what I meant…” glancing at the tossed aside corporal while he turns away. The sign to end this before it got deadly received and understood.
Davoth raises a brow and leans in. “Do not try that with me. You will do your very public job out there. Nothing to fulfill your lusts. Is that too much for you today?”
“No. But should plan then. John knows what to do there. Right? Can multitask this,” adjusting a strap.
“Then don’t distract me…” smirking when he grips a fat thigh and puts both back on his lap, letting the Slayer’s ass hang off as he leans away. The move not troubling the sire as he pets the large mound while the two marines talk.
Looking at the corporal, the Slayer lowers his eyelids and asks, “What can I do? Anything safe?”
John crosses his arms and looks out the window. “Most things that come to mind shouldn’t be an issue. Unless you insist on swimming past the shallows or want to go on a long walk, we don’t have to leave the area wherever we set up.”
“Only those?”
“No, but anything else is energy-intensive or dangerous. And those require items we won’t have. Besides, the kid is from Hell. I’m sure starting a fire is safer than with most.”
“Yeah…” wondering what the other had planned while the fingers disappear and lips explore more of his body. A few kisses are planted on his chest as he wraps an arm around the lord. An inaudible sigh slips out as he watches his shirt lift higher, letting go only when Davoth acts sated and sits up. Phone in hand, he leaves the two to continue planning.
“What things can we do? Do on an Earth beach?” asks the Slayer as he places his feet on the floor. “Any creatures worth hunting around here? Or maybe a game? Bloodsport is best in sand.”
“Even if we could do either of those, you wouldn’t get a turn,” John replies as he quirks a brow.
“Yeah, I know…”
“Wait, would that wake up the half-baked cake cube?” glancing at the lord when he snorts and taps his phone. “I mean, the kid likes excitement.”
“That’s mostly stress. So no games Baal would love?”
“Nothing like last time.”
“What then?”
“Well, when I was their age, my parents would sit on the shore and watch me laugh because my feet got wet. Or gave me a shovel and told me to dig a hole. Both kept me busy.”
“Yeah…” sighing as he leans back and blinks, his mind dulling again.
“You good?” asks John, his gaze focused on the Slayer as he touches his face. “Need to lie down?”
The warrior nods, his eyelids feeling heavy thanks to the man pointing this out. Was it the boring talk, or the sway of the vehicle? Who knows?
The Slayer rubs at a tired eye, the sluggish movement having him ask Davoth for something to rest on. The frown he wears deepens when ordered to just do it. Adding that they were almost to the beach, could nap with Baal later too. The man tries to protest but gets told this was a promise, not a scolding. The warrior growls at the lack of even a pillow, saying he would wait then.
A hand cupping his chin, the lord smiles and presses his lips to the Slayer’s ear, his other tongue spoken like a lullaby. The strange language oddly gentle, the Slayer ignores the tingle that rushes under his skin as the song seeps into his brain. A rare natural smile shows as he accepts an open shoulder and lets his eyes close. A quick touch on his cheek and he slumps forward, the other catching the man while he falls asleep on the way down.
***
“Now that he’s resting…” whispers Davoth, his eyes locking on John.
The man shrinks under the merciless gaze wanting to skin him, glancing at the slumbering Slayer.
The tyrant hums, telling his captive audience, “Don’t worry about him, toy,” careful motions laying the warrior on the seat. “As much as I would love to fuck the breeder, I prefer when he’s more attentive. Besides,”—switching sides to corner the corporal by the glass door—“I can enjoy this just fine. My followers know how to fit my tastes.”
As he speaks, Davoth grabs John’s knee, having his hostage cower even more as he looks at the exit button. On the opposite side of the vehicle. And with a lustful, riled up Hell ruler blocking his path…
John says nothing as he turns back to the lord, keeping his eyes on the trapped limb. Not moving when his thighs get forced open and fingers squeeze the soft inside. His flesh remembers the last time they were alone like this as the walls and ceiling feel tighter, his knees splitting farther apart. With a laugh from Davoth, he stiffens as the touches go higher; the tips accepting the invitation his captor created. A quick exhale and he hears what sounds like kind praise and a purr. A fingertip dragging across his cock, his entire body freezes. Not a single muscle is not tensed. Refusing to breathe when his swimsuit lowers and his shaft flops out.
“What are you doing?” John hisses, gritting his teeth as a fist grabs his dick. A couple of strokes coax a gasp out of the man as he jumps and whips his head toward the sound of an opening zipper.
“I already told you.”
“Sir, please…” the words slipping out before he can stop.
His face paling when Davoth loves the title and shows it by taking out his own cock. The smell of wood smoke wafting over as the tip twitches. A smug grin and lidded eyes: both signs John would regret this when he averts his gaze. Not pulling away when his hand finds itself on the broad head and he knows to grab the top.
Or when he’s ordered to do the same thing, both pumping their arms with a groan. The pair stiff at first, slow pumps working the entire shafts. Soft huffs coming from John while a warm tongue licks his ear, the man quiet when both grow harder. Davoth brings them closer as he holds the marine in his arm. A grin for the corporal when told to not be shy, was so well-behaved when getting fucked over the desk.
The hand on the corporal’s shaft speeds up for him to let out a loud moan and buck his hips. The noise only getting worse when the lord ensnares him with a bite on the shoulder. A flashback to the office when John moans and turns away, his fist keeping pace with Davoth as the fangs don’t break the skin yet. A titter is heard when the mouth leaves to have him see monstrous teeth like the giant beast from that day. Shuddering when they graze the pale flesh over his collarbone, the arm around him lowering to his waist.
And John knows to keep his fucking lips sealed when an eager hand lifts his ass and has him straddling Davoth’s thighs. His legs far apart as he drops with enough speed that he just catches himself on the wide shoulders, cheeks grinding on the tree trunk he had jerked off. The hot leaking slit pushes on his hole for a minute as he remains motionless, staring into the unreadable gaze of the despot toying with him. The slow tease never going beyond the fabric, as if waiting to see if he would try to escape. Neither backing down until the ruler’s twitches and pulls on the swimsuit. The marine looks down, gripping the lord tighter.
Then whips his head back up when a hand grabs his hip to keep still. His mouth opens to speak when barbarous hands use his thighs to squeeze Davoth’s cock, and his own becomes a fun way to fuck with his mind. A low growl in his ear showing the man was a royal plaything when he gets turned around and told to keep both legs shut for once. A new hand rising as he tenses the muscles and locks his body in this position.
John does not wonder why his eyes, jaws, ribs, and dick each have a hand controlling it. Or why his toes curl when he hears a sound from the other side. His muscles clenched impossibly tighter as Davoth uses all of him right. The unyielding grasp forces his back to bend against the broad chest when he pants into hot skin, letting his senses become overwhelmed.
The toy can only be thankful when the grip on his jaw tightens and cannot announce when he comes. A yell snuffed out as he feels a jolt up his spine. The man writhes against the holds; the lord tethering him down to finish as hotter, larger ropes hit his torso and neck. His lips forming a sloppy O when the hands leave and he slumps forward. His dirty shaking body sliding off the silky fabric as he catches his breath.
A soft groan grabs his attention and John snaps out of his mind fog. The corporal instinctively tucking in his cock as blue eyes land on him, so as to not get questioned. A pang of embarrassment punching him in the gut as he hears the zipper of the ruler’s pants. Davoth was in the mood to act boastful, letting the warrior figure out what they had done for a long, painful minute.
Then, the second the realization shows on his face, Davoth fixes everything. A quick clean-up and iron with whatever he uses, erasing any evidence of what occurred. The Roamer slows to a complete stop as the Slayer sits up, his gaze switching between the two until John stands to open the door and put on his sandals. Tired eyes focus on the sand beyond the doorway when he steps forward. The waves lap at the shore, calling the marine home like it often did.
Only to get stopped when a hand grabs his arm and Davoth orders him to do his job. A click of the tongue, and he’s dragged back inside. His ass sat down to see the lord changing his clothes again.
What was before some casual business attire, he strips down even more into a pair of swim briefs and sunglasses. The usual black that he seemed to prefer returning as he helps the Slayer out of the vehicle and toward the beach. This form’s bare feet seem to retain some hoof or scales on the bottom as he walks unaffected across the hot ground—despite some strong ripples in the distance. The glasses and beard make him impossible to read when he watches armored marines speak to each other through earpieces. The aimless words the corporal can catch telling him there was nothing exciting yet. Just getting the odd glance when he searches the random security groups before he turns back to find the other man looking at him.
“What?” he asks, scanning the same expression the Slayer wore when he found out about… the last meeting with Davoth. The same knowing look made John wonder what the guy was thinking when showing obvious pity for him. “Need some help?”
“The ride, after I fell asleep. Did you get hurt again? Should we sit down?”
“Nah, I’m fine. Just had to keep quiet, and everything was fine.”
“If that’s what you want—”
“Most eminent one,” yells the driver as he runs up. Bags in hand, he slides to a halt and lifts the sunglasses he now wears. “A volcano god, as usual. Is there any way to see more with another homemade dinner?”
“What?” not even sounding surprised by the odd comment.
The man acts like this is a normal transition and says, “Stuff, and we set up closer to the shores, as ordered. Also, Bronze sniped three from the top. Nothing new.”
“Go unpack those things, then update the arriving team. You are dismissed,” taking the black bag to hand over to John.
“Oh yeah, you got it,” winking to the two men as he slings the others on his shoulder. Handing a thick folded piece of paper to the corporal, he adds, “Sorry, was going to give this to you before. You are perfect for the event.” Then he bows to Davoth and sprints toward the water.
“Don’t open that,” the lord says, snatching the paper away as his brows lower.
“Why?”
“That’s an invitation. Seth wants you served for dinner. And the finger in there is for Baal’s snack later.”
“Wait, what? What kind of people are you recruiting?”
“Great marines, and better cooks," licking his lips. "And for him, the added bonus of excellent entertainment. He’s the best at them all. However, I am quite selfish about those I keep close,” slapping the corporal’s ass to echo across the beach. “He was up front in the Roamer for a very specific reason. I don't like when he gets hungry. He ate a lot of my leg last time. Not sure if he recovered from the meal though...”
“What...? Never mind. Fuck, you could kill him for that stunt!”
“Hmmm, I didn’t think you were for such extreme solutions… However, I don’t want to. A waste of time, like when you were acting coy in the Roamer. Though you were less shy after I opened you up. Panting and moaning while you got us both off.” His voice grows a little louder as he speaks, petting the smaller man’s head.
John pales as not just the Slayer perks up their ears, hiding his face when a couple of marines walk past with a crate. “Fuck you…”
“But you were the man who called me ‘sir’ after I started. Do it one more time, and I will let this drop.”
John scans the beach, hands shaking as he grabs the offending arm. Nobody too close to hear this weak compromise, he growls, “Won’t make that mistake again, sir.”
“Good toy,” a quick kiss dropping the subject. Both glancing at the gawking Slayer, he now says, “Baal, are you ready?” as a portal opens for the child to roll into waiting arms.
With a squeal to announce the heir’s arrival, they bounce around to take in the view, letting a hand tether them to their father. A gasp at the blue skies and ocean, they are in awe to witness birds and a ship flying overhead. Hooves kicking the air, they point to the shore for the pair to walk in that direction, leaving the two men behind.
“So about before…” whispers the Slayer. “Want anything? To not punch a guard.”
“Just cover my back and I will not get angry. Not worth it.”
“Sure,” smiling as he has them catch up with the royals.
“Thanks. I hate putting sunblock on, but hate sunburns more. This should be quick,” pulling out an applicator from the bag.
“Wait, what?”
“I’ll do that, don’t worry. I know what you want, toy,” interjects Davoth as he takes the cylindrical device. “Slayer, you just hold the child.”
The lord grins as they stop at a massive tent close to a grassy hill (two Roamers long and just as tall; would it be anything less?), snapping for guards to bring chairs for all three adults. A quick exchange has Baal jump into the Slayer’s arms as John sits down for Davoth to begin by removing his shirt. The other yanking the back down to spray the airy sunblock as he rubs it in.
Everyone watches the waves crash on the sand and barely miss their feet, ignoring the bustle and talk all around. Not much to be said until a marine announces the area is secured and in waiting, the rest in position by the cave. John scans the beach, making note of all the spots where he would need to check before watering the bushes. A touch on his back checks everything got covered as he kicks off his sandals. The hand quick and light, behaving for the moment.
John wants to say he is fearful or cautious after what happened in the truck, but he doubts Davoth would bother again. Bastard planned for the kid and must be getting off to this whole situation. He nonetheless won’t give the lord the satisfaction of making eye contact or speaking. The fast application goes on perfectly as he’s sprayed down and rubbed all over. Not a single inch was uncovered.
They could have done this before... Would have made sense. For him, at least. This fucker wanted to make him wish he had taken the death penalty instead of a transfer.
Baal looks at the water and wags their hips, pointing to the horizon. “Is the cave over there?” they ask, squinting at the glittering surface. “Is that why you need the humans to dig it up?”
“No,” replies Davoth, “it’s up the hill. I needed creatures more delicate with smaller items than demons. The item is deep underground, and this will take a long time.”
“Then why are we here?”
“So you can play without getting hurt. The guards are here to protect from a distance. Some beings are not pleased with this excavation, and I like complete privacy. Which means you’ll stay here until we find it.”
“Oh… So you are gonna leave?” a pout for Daddy as they stare at their hands.
“Yes, I will eventually, but I’m here right now. What should we do first?”
“Hmm, we need more… humans! All the movies from here have lots of them. All over the beach!” Baal wriggles and bites as the Slayer tries to hold on. In seconds, nipping a wrist to be free and slide down into the sand while the warrior inspects the unharmed arm. On their feet, they point to the hill and say, “There’s more up there. We can get some. Or use them,” looking close to where the adults parked.
“What was that?” asks Davoth. A blink, and he’s grabbing Baal, picking them up to hold. “You see them too?”
“Yeah, they’re everywhere…”
“Ah, I understand,” smiling as he pulls out his phone, the screen on as he types one word, then switches to the camera. A stream of pictures taken with a blurred thumb. He again asks what they should do before sending the files. All of them.
Baal thinks for a moment, then grabs a tusk, pointing to the waves. “Can we still go in there? The ocean’s not cold? That thing was dumb.”
“No, this is nothing like the polar bear enclosure. This water is warmer.”
“Good,” giving a humph while tapping the lord’s arm to move forward. Their eyes shut to never see the smile he shows upon hearing the reply. Already in the water when they open again and Davoth kneels to dip in a finger. A chirp has them stood right where the sea foam can lap around their ankles, the lord holding them steady against the surf. The kid’s full attention on the deeper ocean until John stops at their side.
A hand on a hip, he asks, “What are you looking at? Trying to find something?”
Baal nods and points to the darker waters beyond the safe zone. “Wanna watch a big fish… or a whale. Uncle Kelly said how those fight giant squids to eat ‘em! He showed a video and read humans explore there with machines.”
“Baal, no,” says Davoth, “that is dangerous. You do not even know how to swim.”
“I don’t care. If you are there, it is okay, Daddy. Plus, you can, and Uncle Kelly can. He says you have to if you wanna be a marine.”
“And I am too busy with the excavation to go at all.”
This gets the child to really pout, pulling away from his hands as they cross their arms and glare at the ground. “You’re no fun. Not like toy at all! Bel said you were always gone. Even when playing… They are right.”
And as if a bomb had dropped in the distance, the entire world seems to quiet. The words left to linger. Both marines watch as something cracks in the lord. A slight twitch of a finger the only signal that the child affected him.
But like the stupid bastard had done to him before, John stands over with the biggest grin on his face.
A hand wiping the expression off when Davoth seems to sense his sick delight and glares at the more favored human. Long fangs show when he takes a deep breath and lets out a heavy exhale, the water boiling where it hits the surface. Away from them. The child, not caring they insulted the sire, continues to grumble; the corporal wondering if he should be worried about who Davoth would use to soothe this anger, and how.
So instead of reveling in the well-deserved joy, John reaches out and asks, “Hey kid, ever look at living spike balls? Like just spikes?”
“No…” looking around for the strange creatures. “Where are those?”
“There’s a thing called a tide pool. Those have some weird fish, or whatever you call them. Wanna see what they have?”
“Yeah!” raising their arms for John to lift with a smile. Then grunt at how heavy they had gotten. Did he really lug this child across Hell before?
Either way, John is quick to turn away when Davoth stands. His face blank, he walks off when hearing a warning given to the Slayer. Not acknowledging when he hears the lord say to do his job, or Sarge would replace him; the breeder could help Davoth relax instead. Baal kicking their feet, they babble in their other tongue as the warrior catches up. Both men confirming the father has his back turned, not moving from where they left him.
John once more grins as he interrupts Baal to point out a pool, already seeing the animal they were looking for is abundant here as they approach. A snort of disbelief has him lower them by the edge and explain how the creatures survived in the small body of saltwater as waves splash into it. Next, he turns to find starfish, picking up one perfect to fit in a tiny hand.
Then ripping it out of their mouth when they tear off a leg to have a taste. Both parts tossed into the water again as Baal blinks. A quivering lip having John distract them with a new fish that got brought into the pool.
Baal resumes playing with the tide pool when they dip in a hoof, cooing as the more curious creatures investigate. A kick scares most off as they laugh and disturb the surface some more, sending water everywhere.
John grabs the leg and shakes his head, warning, “Do not do that, kid. That’s rude here, and stupid in the deeps. That kind of shit attracts those sharks you wanna see. And they are often hungry and willing to take a bite. They’re not trying to kill you, but they also don’t know how else to learn if you are food.”
“Like a mancubus. They eat anything they find!”
“No, sharks only like fish and seals. You are not on the menu. But if you were, they absolutely would eat you by the chunk. Do those demons rip prey apart to feed?”
“That’s what everything does, toy.”
“And as my great-great-grandmother used to say, ‘Some realize it’s easier to swallow ya whole than deal with a worthless mess’.”
“Why?”
“She had opinions on certain groups she researched. Mostly their secrets… That quote was how she explained some things about them.”
“Makes sense… You can’t see far if you’re a human, and everything is a secret then! That is why Daddy is so busy.” This has them frown and hunch over, leaning forward to grab a sea urchin.
“Ah, no!” saving the creature after they squeak and toss it in the sand. “Why don’t you find something else to focus on instead?”
“Is this okay?” snatching up a fish as it thrashes in a tight fist.
“Honey, no!” almost slapping their hand when he sees the bright scales ready to burst open. Quick hands have it fall back into the pool, seeing it swim to a safe distance. “What are you doing?”
“But I can eat it… Not too hard to catch.”
“That’s not how life works here.”
“But it’s not lava!”
“No.”
“Why? Ain’t like Hell.”
“Because you might get sick. There are a lot of waters with a lot of things that would be happy to kill you and itself. All because you got grabby.”
“That is stupid.”
“Is it? Demons do it for your father.”
“But he told them to.”
“Yes, and those kinds of fish were born for it. One for the sake of many. Same thing in the end.”
“Why can’t you take me out there? I wanna see some.”
“Gotta agree with Daddy on this matter. You’re better off here or on the beach."
"I got you and papa. We all can go."
"How is papa going to do anything with us? Plus, both your parents want the baby to be delivered without weird dings and dents. Things grow very heavy down there.”
“Water does that?”
“Oh yeah. Sometimes it gets so bad, things explode! Watched a guy’s skull bust open and get painted with his own brains that way.”
“Wow… Then can we find Uncle Kelly? We could play something else. He is here. Saw him when we went to the tent.”
“Kelly is working with Daddy,” says the Slayer as he lies back. “Can’t.”
The child flashes their tusks and turns away from the water. “Both are always busy. They leave me alone. Not fair.”
“Be patient, like a fighter. Daddy has a plan. Has to find it. Uninterrupted.”
“Daddy and Uncle say that all the time. It’s too hard.”
“There are plenty of things. Things to do,” an eye opening to glance at John.
The corporal smiles, knowing the perfect way to distract the heir from the reality of their busy guardians. With a snap, he says, “Yep, and many things a growing baby will love to eat. Tell me, kid, do you like ice cream or s’mores more?”
And as with every important decision, they hold their chin, a serious look on their face. With furrowed brows and a quick tongue click, they say, “Both.”
“Can do that,” their papa replies, smiling at John as he picks up Baal and lets them sit on a hip. A groan and he motions for the man to lead, a hand pointing to the lord further up the beach.
John sees why when the marines the lord talks with point toward the road. His curiosity just strong enough to have him walk a normal pace over to the group and find out why they hunch over, speaking in quick voices and hushed tones. Shifty eyes drifting between each other and a crowd holding signs. The bright letters that flash across the screens show that the item is worth something, asking for the corporation to let actual experts come in.
Davoth looks calmer than one marine he speaks with as she says they are unarmed, could just take care of the situation. Another adding more had arrived since they set up; might need to act soon.
But the ruler just tells them that will be the next step as he lifts a hand. A helmet showing in a red projection out of the palm, he ends the conversation. Now speaking to the helmet, he says the scouts do not offer any promise of submission, must use force. Make it look like an accident. With a quick confirmation and nod, they sign off as a Roamer pulls up by the group.
The rear doors open for more to walk out as signs fall and the protesters scream. John glancing at the guards as they pull out weapons, he does not see guns in the crowd when they take a step back. A yell to charge bellows from the vehicle. The armed group drives them to scatter as items get trampled and crushed, all running for vehicles down the road. The two marines with the lord look away as Davoth has a new face appear. A sigh as he looks at the bored expression, he gives another order to deal with the mess after the signal. Don’t need the attention, have them sound insane.
John hides shaking hands as he holds a deep breath like he is diving. The anger he waits to arise refuses to show, hidden under the blankets tucked in his mind…
It wasn’t the time…
This feels wrong. He should do something.
But they’re not being killed. This is not in any way similar to his old superior.
A glance at the lord, John freezes as he hears they didn’t fight back.
The Slayer walks up as the projection disappears, asking the ruler, “Do we need to leave?”
“Not at all. The issue is resolved.”
“Those looked like protesters.”
“No, only scientists and historians. They are angry we are disturbing a historical burial site.”
“That sounds serious.”
“It’s not.”
“Should we move, just in case?” glancing at his belly.
“That is why they are here,” motioning to the two guards at his side. “You have no reason to worry about such matters when they do their job. Even you should enjoy a relaxing day.”
“Yes,” pulling Baal up to cling to his shirt. "If everything is solved..."
“That is my good breeder,” patting his head. “What did you need?”
“Ice cream! And s’mores!” announces Baal with a raised fist. “Toy said we could make them.”
“Did he?” glaring at the man as he frowns back. “Is that all he promised?”
John crosses his arms and says, “I am not promising anything. But I’m sure the kid would enjoy this trip more if they could do something fun. And to not ask for more humans to be distracted. Really wants their favorite uncle here.”
“What is this stupid tantrum?”
“The precious scion tried eating an urchin and a starfish. I don’t need a baby with oral fixations to eat literal hazards. The little treasure might be happy that their father pays attention to the more delightful requests…”
“Hmmm, what are you hoping for?”
“The supplies and a place to light a fire. I want those things too. Though I was going to ask a guard if you were busy,” turning to see, then emphasize, Baal jumping in the Slayer’s arms as they hear fire was required. “Understand, sir, I have everything I need…” lowering his eyelids as he gives a smirk.
“So your previous education is coming into play…” smiling as his expression softens. “Enjoying the vacation?”
“Very much so! Spending time with the kiddos on the beach is great. I’m confident you can tell how much I love being here,” watching the calm green irises that scan his body. “Bet those well-educated experts think the same.”
Davoth smiles and takes John’s hand, excusing the guards with an order to get everything the corporal asked for. Next, turning to say, “I am sure they’re happy to be home. Easier than having them arrested, correct? I’m also positive you would love to know what not being intrusive earns you…” pulling John closer as they walk to the tent. “You should understand why you don’t need to worry about all that when in a civilian role.”
The connection doesn’t budge when John pulls his arm back; the hold following but not yielding to his discomfort. A titter at his efforts, Davoth says they’re almost there.
So the man lets himself get dragged to a chair as Baal lands in his lap and asks what they must do. A look around at all the movement and talking pauses his own as he watches guards set up a fire pit. The stones assembled closer to the hill, the corporal sets the seat close to the circle and sits down to witness the crude assembly. A new bag placed in his hand, he inspects the contents to find everything there. The accelerant lies at the bottom, calling for him to take it. Baal watches with an expectant gaze, tiny hands reaching out when he picks up the bottle and smells the harsh fumes.
With a smile at the item, he asks, “Like burning shit? Who wants to see what this can do, baby?”
“I am!”
“That’s what I want to hear, kid!” the man standing up as they rip off the cap.
“But I am a baby.”
“Love the enthusiasm!” dumping out three long seconds’ worth of fuel. Worked with cooking in the kitchen, so counting for measurements would be fine here too.
Both yell when he jumps back and the flames shoot high above their heads. The stifling heat makes John sweat so much that he has to check his eyebrows before digging out a pair of gray cubes. Now telling the kid, “Alright, looks like we are going for the true authentic experience. This will be a perfect three-layer sandwich.”
“That’s big!”
“Yep! Now, grab the crackers and marshmallow spray. No, that’s the chocolate spread,” his full attention on the task. An almost hyper-fixation level of focus used to stuff the cooking cube with sweets before he lets Baal toss them into the fire.
Both wait with bated breath, watching the massive flames for the boxes to scream and jump out onto the sand. Within seconds, the items are in his hand to pop off the lids and the space-grade metal to shine like a spotlight on the perfect creations. Then the first one disappears down the heir’s throat while the marshmallow is still steaming and chocolate drips down the sides. No one acting surprised when they ask for another. Or that John is blowing on the other s’more when he tells them to chew this time. Only to watch the baby smear the melted spreads all over their face. A quick lick cleaning their mouth as their eyes widen, the sugar hitting their system with full force. The black voids sucking in light like a black hole.
But it is the ice cream, like the toy, that grabs Baal’s full fascination. Despite the complaints about how cold it is and how the food smells similar to milk, the baby eats a sandwich with little convincing. John laughs as he says this one is using the genuine stuff, wondering how old the recipe is.
This has Baal blink as they look up at the man and ask, “They are using milk like papa’s?”
“No… Yes, actually. Seems they got… cows for this. Weird.”
“It tastes sweet. Like papa.”
“Yeah, he—it does,” shutting his lips as the kid doesn’t catch the mistake. Keeping it that way when both parents show they heard. The Slayer adjusts in his seat and taps a knee, averting his gaze while Davoth sniggers. For the second time today, the lord reacts with laughter to something that slipped out of the corporal’s mouth.
His ass was safe, for the moment, when Baal looks at their father with a smile. A hand grabbing John’s arm to turn and stand on a thigh. A squeak and they ask, “You are staying, Daddy?”
John turns to see their arms reach out as Davoth takes them back to his chair. A bigger treat falls into their grasp as he replies, “The humans are doing well for now. I can stay on the beach for a while. Sound fair?”
Baal nods and lifts the cone for Davoth to rip open. The large thing held in both their hands, they hold it up to his face and grunt. A little more coaxing makes the tyrant bow to lick as the child stares, the black pools not letting him stop until he did a few more times. Then they relax and do the same as Daddy, copying the slow licks as they order him, “Can’t leave now. Gotta finish the meal.”
“No, I made that rule for you.”
“You ate first. Still yours.”
“Is that how you are going to try to win this?”
“Yep.”
“Fair enough. I’ll do my best to follow the rules this time.”
The child hums and snuggles closer, holding up the cone again to let him hold it as some melts over the side. The liquefied cream slows when he places a hand on Baal’s belly. Both act content as each bathes in the sunlight, looking almost like a normal family.
John relaxes as he turns away, using this interlude to take in the sun and sand, recalling the last time he enjoyed this kind of scenery. The previous trip he took to a beach was for an interrogation. Well, more so to pick up the person for it. But first, the team needed to get them in the mood to talk for when they returned to base.
When was the party after that?
He moves to a rock by the surf, sea foam lapping over his feet as the sun's rays beat on his back. Pushing aside some hair, he stares at a sleepy Slayer, his eyelids lowering as he examines the larger man. Like looking at him for the first time in years, he scans the other under a new light. As if they had not seen each other in years, the air around the warrior has him look closer at the changes over the last few months.
The corporal admits the Slayer is for sure different from most who had his current… situation. Yeah, the cock and an implanted uterus were nothing new, but not the combination he was thinking of. Or the way he swelled despite his nonexistent diet. It was more so the latter, and the absence of scarring. Hated to agree with Green, but Doctor Rapist had a point. No stretch marks and a ball-shaped fetus… Was growing Hell’s little miracles supposed to be this perplexing, or would he do the same shit again?
Fuck, how long has it been since he had to worry about this?
Actually sitting here and looking at him like this, the other marine can’t stop speculating about that day.
But he isn’t nervous. John had done this before, with more willing parties. And it was hard to hate the new baby when the whole process is not unfamiliar to the corporal. It's harder to get angry at the thing causing all this trouble when he knows the real target. Maybe this is getting to him again, making him too soft when both sides want it. John sighs and frowns when he wonders if he misses those days. He wouldn’t be in this mess if he had stayed at it. Kept going down that path instead of signing up for the Marines.
But damn, he cannot deny how much he wants to see his bloody fist and boot on that bastard’s face one day. When the man gets to put a bullet in the lord of Hell's head, he will know all of this was worth the fight. The fact he waits to pull the trigger all the proof he needs to know he made the right choice.
The other marine lightly snores while his own eyes grow heavy. The waves rumble, and John wishes he could enjoy this more. Just the two of them, some smokes, and a game to teach the guy. A real uninterrupted vacation with someone he liked. A slow blink lets him watch the other’s breathing again act as a massive red flag, reminding him of the all too familiar sight he’d seen enough before. The horrible pang watching this pregnancy in any positive light makes his stomach swirl as he knows he shouldn’t think about what is ruining the peacefulness.
He averts his gaze from the peaceful rise and fall of the Slayer’s impressive chest. Not that again…
A grunt has him turn back as a projection interrupts Baal. With a quick touch to quiet them, Davoth opens his hand to see a helmet. The person’s voice is low and quick, hissing as if hidden somewhere. They say the team spotted suspicious activity close to the perimeter, waiting for instructions. Davoth gets to his feet and tells them to investigate, he would join them, handing Baal off to the Slayer as he walks through a portal. The lord is not around long enough to see the child pout at the change in plans, let alone when they growl and cross their arms.
The Slayer sighs as he helps them get comfortable on his lap, scratching a tusk to distract them. A glance at John, he asks, “What should we do now? Any more ideas?”
The corporal scratches his chin and walks over, going through the short list in his head. After a minute, saying, “Think they can handle using a shovel and a bucket? I have a fun game that involves building forts.”
“No time for that, marine,” interjects Sarge, the sound of more than one pair of boots following behind.
Both marines turn to see the older man—who is not wearing armor—stop by the fire with several guards, kicking sand over the flames to put it out. The kid snorts as they jump up and reach out for him. The Sergeant grins and steps forward to rub their arm and whisper a greeting.
But then his expression falls, and he turns to the Slayer. “Take Baal and the toy into the tent. None of you can leave until I say it’s safe.”
“And what is going on?” asks John, looking at the guns the security carries. All of them are high powered, and none have the safety activated.
Sarge snaps and points to the flap, having the guards force both men inside. “An unknown group snuck into the area, planted devices, and disappeared without alerting either UAC or military surveillance measures. The wise lord wants everything locked down, and all investigated. You are to remain here until there are answers.”
“Huh, that was easy… What are you not saying because of rank?”
“Nothing important. This just occurred, and everyone must understand how serious the situation is.”
“How is a tent and a few guards going to suffice?”
“Hell energy is being syphoned from a repurposed soul spire to create a barrier. If they try getting in, we will know.”
“Soul spire… Of course, that’s a thing,” rolling his eyes as he wonders what the fuck that was and if he should ask.
“Why don’t you just kill them?” asks Baal, making the Slayer go over to the Sergeant and sit down. “I want to play on the beach.”
“If only it was that easy,” the man says with a smile. “But when dealing with cowards, they hide the second anyone tries to fight back. So we send teams to locate and take care of them.”
“Is that why Daddy left? Can he find them?”
“If they return, he will. Let’s hope this was all a waste of time, okay?”
“Yeah,” turning to whisper in the Slayer’s ear. The man shakes his head as they frown and lean in again, both talking in hushed tones for a minute. Baal finally saying out loud to the group, “That’s dumb. Bet they’re mad we get the beach. They are being rude.”
“Sure this isn’t because of the incident before?” asks John. “Gotta remember people don’t like being told no.”
“I know that is not the case,” replies Sarge, pulling out a small blade. “The others disposed of those annoyances while you were busy with s’mores.”
The corporal glances at the Slayer. “Must be a valuable item to be so drastic.”
“According to our lord, it is worth more than anything UAC or the government could create. The object’s value is enough to make our clients drool. If asked to guess, there could be quite a few more, far more capable choices. Just be cautious and let those who are better protected do this.”
“So you have a clue?” quirking a brow.
“Until we know more, that is well above your pay grade.”
“I think the one we’re looking after brings us up a few levels in clearance...”
“Not how that works, marine.”
Sarge looks ready to say more when a guard steps forward. “Sir, the lord says to activate the tent shields. Something got through the—”
A spray of blood hits the four. The pair standing jump back to act as a barrier to the kid. In fighting stances, they see a figure clad in black and green, a black, featureless mask hiding the face of the assailant. Two slits where the eyes should be glow a soft blue, a strange red symbol above the right eye. The looser cut of their clothes helping them hide their hands as they leave a blade in the final marine. The rest are already dead as John glances at Sarge, who clenches his jaws and pulls out a gun to aim at the assassin.
“Stand down,” he yells, the small knife hovering over his spell circle. “Got two seconds to surrender or I will shoot a hole in your chest! One…”
A flash of gray. Then a hiss when a blue blade slices the tent by the Sergeant’s head. The chain attached a perfect line for only a moment. For a split second, marking its path through the air.
A hand pulls it to return. And Sarge shoots. Both jumping aside when sparks fly from their collision.
John ducks; he feels his back burn as the Slayer backs into the corner, breathing hard as he protects Baal. The child’s eyes are wide, and he can see more black as they shake. He says to stay there and not say a word. Would show they are learning to be a warrior.
A yell has him turn back to see Sarge roll out of the way of the blade. He retaliates by emptying the last of his bullets into the wall behind the assassin as they seem to fly across the sand. The whole weapon tossed aside, he steals a rifle from a dead body and unloads.
And not a single shot hits. Where this stranger had stood now only remains bullet holes. The dark visage of the unreadable face is far more ominous when they stroll out of a dim corner and swing the blade’s chain. The slow sway that comes with each step has both fighters brace for the next attack.
John back on his feet, he asks, “Sir, what are you thinking?”
“Marine, you stay out of this. Unless I say to get involved, don’t.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. Protect the two!” pushing the corporal aside. “I’ve hunted bigger prey with less.”
And for the second time with Sarge, he does not question things. Standing in front of the Slayer, he watches as the older man takes out the small blade again. The point plunges into his circle and he grits his teeth as the wound bleeds. Right after, ripping out the blade for the spell to consume a fresh offering. The lines glow and hiss as he curls his other hand into a fist and turns away. Eyes squinted as the balled-up flesh melts for the bone to be exposed, the chunks sliding to the ground as they burn to ash. The tendons still intact, the last of it incinerates off when they hear a creak and the attacker tilts their head.
Sarge gets into a hunched stance when the bones bend under the pull of the sinew, pulling the harder frame under their force, bending them to fold in on themselves. His face hardens when what remains morphs. A strange cream-colored liquid dribbling at his feet when the ligaments that remain twist and snake over the exposed skeleton. A low hiss while the bone cracks open and he steps closer, a ragged hole appearing where his wrist used to be.
Teeth grit, his eyes dart in wild directions. Then they snap forward, the man rushing the assassin when he lifts the newly formed stump. Sarge’s arm is raised to point at the stranger when the end that looks like a barrel glows yellow. The masked figure balances on their toes. The weapon once more lifted when they jump at the Sergeant.
Both collide in a blinding light as they fly out of the tent down the beach. The power of the attack sends the shelter flying over the hill in shreds. The two men watching cover their faces to the sudden sunlight. Arms still raised when the second shockwave hits, a thick wall of dust washing over as they see bursts of light through the unnatural storm.
What the hell is this assassin? Fuck, how many assassins did they send here? There was no way there wasn’t more keeping the other marines busy.
How many were killed by this attacker alone?
“I should do something…” John says, looking around to see the surrounding area is empty, a few odd dots seen in the swirling dust. Then the soft glow of weapons. Yells are heard in the distance, and they seem to move all over the beach. A hollow thud and the ground explodes, a massive pillar of sand launched into the sky. A holler when both cast a shadow from high above, each sailing through the air. Still exchanging blows as they grapple with each other.
“Marine, now!” yells Sarge as he flies towards the three at a blinding speed.
A black streak acts as a tail as the two rocket closer to the ground, the superior’s course taking a sudden change when overhead. Once more rocketing away as his opponent gets hurled into the dirt.
A look of horror on his face, John rolls out of the way just in time.
Sand flies everywhere as the assassin lands by the Slayer, a knife once more in their hand. On their feet, the blade comes down right for the child.
John leaps into action. The man doesn’t care about the glowing weapon or the inhuman speed of this attacker. He would stop them. A yell, and he jumps the assassin, arms wide as they turn their head. The heat of the edge burns when he lands on top. Skin on fire when he grabs them by the throat and knocks them to the ground.
He cannot hesitate when they roll in the sand, tightening his hold as he headbutts the blank visage and snatches the blade, plunging it into their belly. A deep yell comes from the cracks in the mask as flesh burns and the wound becomes cauterized. John rolls with the thrashing attacker, pulling them into a chokehold with a gasp. Arms flailing and a knee jammed into his side, the corporal refuses to let go. His limbs only stiffen as fingers dig into his face. Strong hands squeeze the assailant, never releasing his grip. The seconds feel like an eternity, each attempt to throw him off pressing some of the knife on him. Even the handle is hot, the skin pulsing with pain as he squeezes tighter.
But then it’s over, and the hostage goes limp, flopping over to crumple on the ground. The now unconscious person released, falling into the sand for Sarge to run over, take the weapon out, and cuff them.
“Not bad, marine,” huffs the older man, his usable hand helping to stay standing as he braces himself on a knee. “So you still have something else in there worth keeping you around for, huh? The toy has a few excellent features then.”
“Don’t act like you are the one who saved me. Not sure you would have the right to talk if you did…”
“The child’s safety is all I care about. Now help me put them in a shield,” walking over to let Baal crawl into his arms.
“Yeah…” following the superior’s instructions as he’s told to take a cube from Sarge’s pocket.
In the time it took to kill all the guards, the heir sits on a cushion and watches the adults from a hole in the sand. A golden shield protects them in an orb, small ripples ebbing from where they lean against the side. Baal’s eyes still big, they call the corporal over with hurried motions.
John wants to let out a long sigh, but kneels and tells the kid to relax. Safe now. They pout and say to be sure, hated being alone. The odd fight to keep him close but not show much emotion is apparent when pressing against the barrier while claiming they don’t want the toy to stay. Not if he didn’t need to.
Sarge gets their attention and explains they’re protected from worthless humans; papa will call for help if anyone tries to attack again. Just enjoy the sun and relax. The child looks unsure but doesn’t protest, saying they hear Daddy nearby.
The Slayer sees it’s time to step in, distracting Baal by reminding them why their father left and what he was still doing. Their eyes homed in on the breeder as they respond with a glower, and he inquires what they should ask Davoth when he returns.
With a smile at the heir, Sarge grabs John’s arm and tells him to follow back to the assassin. The hand gun pointed at their head, he says to the corporal, “Stay right there, marine, I’ll need help in a minute.”
Then he touches the barrel where his wrist used to be. A grimace at whatever that was supposed to do, he shoots twice into their face and chest. The orbs making contact causing their body to jolt each time it hits. Four hollow thunks seem to satisfy the Sergeant as he lifts a hand to his ear and hisses, “The enemy is downed and ready. What should I do?”
Sarge listens for a minute, his expression darkening as he glances at the shield. A quick confirmation as he turns to John. “Let’s go, marine, we have to move this body.”
“What did you do? There wasn’t any blood.”
“Davoth doesn’t need them dead, wants to interrogate them. Had to ensure the fucker can’t fight back. So I benumbed all their nerves. Cut off their senses. The bastard won’t know a boot caved in their skull until the soul is in Hell. There is so much I could do to make them pay for what all these pieces of shit did. Wouldn’t be a shame if the wise ruler got a new revenant…”
“Yeah, I understand…” looking down at the motionless attacker. This doesn’t sound like a simple attempt, nor a successful one. A slight shake of the other’s usable hand having him say, “But that can get figured out later. After Davoth has made his judgment. The threat has been neutralized. I doubt it will end well for them.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for…” smiling to touch the corporal’s face. “So the training is working. Good. Everyone likes a devoted toy.”
John’s face falls, taking a step back as the tiny sliver of the faint feeling of goodwill he forced himself to show shatters. “Don’t talk, or I’ll demonstrate how wrong that is.”
“Shame we do not have time for that kind of fun. So you can help move the body, or thank me and the marine I ask to do this instead. I’m sure you are not that rebellious as to refuse a direct order from a superior.”
“No, sir,” grabbing the assassin’s feet as Sarge grabs the hood and supports their spine with the gun. With a shared grunt, the men haul the dead weight up the hill to toss in the back of an armored truck. John not speaking as he notices the other bodies already there, and the rest about to join. Some more intact than others in both cases.
“Well, what do we have here…?” laughs a marine as he stops in front of the corporal, looking down at the almost naked man. “Kelly, thought you had an assassin attack the kid? No way that fucker killed four before he took ‘em down,” his tone dripping with contempt as he removes his helmet. His face is a little younger than the Sergeant’s, his gray eyes cold like winter.
Sarge grunts, brushing the words aside with a dismissive wave. “Just had to stop them from killing the breeder. Whatever does the job.”
“Barely has a scratch on him,” pushing a finger into a burn on the man’s ribs. Jabbing a callused thumb into another on the stomach as John lifts a hand. “Still acting as if he was with Davoth though… No wonder you like him so much, Kelly.” The stranger grabs the rising arm and spins the man around, slamming him into the side of the truck. A loud bang and a sharp pain in the head making John’s ears ring before he knows where he was. The other now adding, “You always liked them wild,” wrenching the corporal’s arms behind his back.
A hot breath on the nape of his neck, John groans, “Hey…”
“If I wasn’t so busy," the new man growls into his ear, "I would open the cab, bend you over the front seat, and rape you. You, out of all of us, have no right to do a fucking thing. I do not appreciate sluts with an attitude. Yeah, I know Davoth enjoys breaking them in, but I forgot he liked a real challenge.”
“Let go!” he shouts, fighting the hands as they squeeze tighter. The grip only tightens in response, the power used becoming impossibly strong.
Only loosening just a little when John hears the clink of a belt buckle. Wild eyes searching for the source, he sees Sarge’s boots walk over. The man sounds more annoyed than anything when he says, “Would you either do it or let the toy go? He has work to do, then I am gone. And I am not losing an hour because you do the usual and cut too deep.”
“Ah, I didn’t realize. That’s my mistake, I will go then,” letting the toy go with a small push as he walks to the door.
John steps back as Sarge grabs his arm, dragging him down the hill until the truck drives toward the road. The grip oddly willing to release its hold while Sarge looks around and his breathing speeds up, eyes darting across the sand. The words curt, he snaps, “Let’s move. I need to reverse this effect, or you lose a leg.”
“What?”
“The circle needs new flesh to grow my hand. And you are going to harvest some. Remember, there is plenty at the tent spot.”
“Are you saying…”
“Either you or the dead ones, marine. Now be a good toy and help, then go to the heir… I’ll clean up. Davoth will want you after this, anyway.” He stares at the corporal’s body, homing in on his belly like a predator does a fresh kill.
A last glance at the gun, John nods and steps forward. His back turned to the man when he walks toward the pair. The hot sand makes him move faster. He can almost hear Sarge drool as the bodies come into view. The looming threat keeps him from turning around to see if this is true. Too focused on reaching the corpses to do more than notice the tent is standing again.
Or mind how much Sarge shakes when handing John a carving knife and key while licking his lips. The order does not need to be said. The man tells him what parts are best to regrow the limb, the superior's tone tense as if warning him to hurry.
He hears the dull thump as the armor locks release, tossing the pieces aside to cut open the first corpse’s shirt. The small circle on the chest looks a lot like Sarge’s.
John brings the knife down with a grunt, feeling the point hit the ribs. A little force used to dislodge the tip, the man slices through muscle with a more steady hand. The wet sounds of the torso as it opens are only interrupted by talk in the distance. The lord’s unmistakable voice saying he could survive this. Won’t be here much longer…
A groan soon drowns out Davoth’s words as the gun rests on his shoulder. With a snap and order to move the blade, quivering fingers reach out for a piece of the abdominal muscles. The weight grows as Sarge eats, loud chewing, like a hungry animal, filling his ears. The ecstasy of such an inhuman joy makes the situation surreal when John gets told to break the ribs. Hearts were a treat for the child, and liver was always good for growing children.
Something wet lands on his shoulder.
John realizes it’s red and warm as he shivers, trying to see anything among the messy gore.
The helmet watches this body’s desecration. He pretends it doesn’t whisper to him, a harsh voice telling the man how it would get revenge. The whispers of the dead marines ricochet in his skull, promising no mercy or peace for this transgression.
They all know he already paid the universe enough for this slight. This wouldn’t create a situation worse than the one he’s in.
Sarge forces him to hear real voices again. The stench of blood and marrow clings to his breath. Red smears are visible on his lips when he licks a finger and says, “You’ll want some intestines, too. Sometimes they appreciate the softer texture with those baby teeth. Contents are not important. It will all get discarded when I bag everything up.”
The way the man speaks is akin to a strange nurse or nanny speaking to a helpful servant. The soft smile shows care despite the finger-like streaks across his jaws and sticky fingers that dig through the gore.
Next saying as he finds something among the muscular tubes that remain, “What excellent marines they are! What wonderful food they shall be! I hope we are suitable if this happens to us. Can you ask for anything more honorable, marine?” wrenching out a bit of spine. "I hope the heir that does consume me is full and can say I was worth the sacrifice."
“No, sir… I cannot think of a greater honor,” he replies, sliding away as the Sergeant gnaws the bone. At a loss for words when he breaks through, slurping up the marrow inside.
***
As John and Kelly walk over the hill, the Slayer turns back to Baal. His eyes watch as their mouth moves, having lost track of the conversation thanks to the brief distraction. The man could remember something… about… sea… the starfish. Was it about somehow making two at the tide pool? Well, now they talk about salt.
At least the child seems over the attack already. That would make sense after the first time they had their lives threatened, and who knows what they saw in Hell. Despite that, Baal acted scared when the fight started, and really wanted John to stay once it ended.
A slap on the shield brings him back to the beach. A blink at the distraction, he realizes his gaze had drifted to the ocean through the doorway.
Hold on… the tent wasn’t there before. When did someone come here and rebuild it?
“Papa!” Baal snaps, slapping the barrier a few more times. “Hurry up! Daddy is here. Let me out.”
“What?” whipping his head around when Davoth purrs and walks past the flap.
The ruler smiles and turns off the cube, picking up Baal to hold close and shower with soft words. Their face lights up as they cling to him, grabbing his hand when a finger scratches a tusk, not letting go when he moves ever so slightly. A sharp shake of the head again putting a hoof down. And once more, the tyrant bows, kissing a cheek as he adjusts to let them sit in his lap. The unrelenting grip they have refuses to leave when they lay back and nibble on a new skin flap between the fingers.
“Seems Thomas fought off the attacker,” Davoth says, looking at the breeder. “Even the toy was more… acceptable with his violent behavior.”
“Yes,” shifting to recline a little. “The fight was close.”
“The Marines underestimated them at first. I am thankful I do not listen to my followers about what gifts they earn. Or vessels,” using Baal’s power grip to lift and kiss them on the head. “Be honest. What did you think? The circle was my idea related to a more mundane request.”
“The hand melted off. Seems excessive.”
“The part grows back. After he eats the right materials.”
“Like that more, more than the collar.”
“But you don’t consume human flesh, nor would you eat any, no matter how desperate. Why bother when you would never use the ability in battle?”
“Why that?” Morbid curiosity is not even the primary motivation as he blurts out the question. There is no way Davoth could not just have it fall off and reattach like a magnet.
“The effects damage most of the nerves in the forearm, and the circle needs the correct materials to rebuild. To use the owner’s own flesh would destroy the main nervous system in the process. The body would die making the needed repairs to regain full function.”
“Hmmm, should try again. Make a better version,” glancing at his own hand as he wonders if his healing would be enough to prevent such a need.
“How true. Today was an enlightening trip. There was nothing to fear, but why give any fools the illusion of a chance?”
“Yes,” turning when he hears John and Kelly speak outside. About to move toward the flap when Davoth grabs his arm and he pales. A quick glance at the child asks the obvious question.
“I would stay here,” he answers, “for your sake. The excavation is done, so rest. When everything is packed up, I’ll be back. Do not leave the tent.”
With that, he stands as a chair appears at the same time a portal does. Baal once more in awe of their father when they ask if he is teaching a lesson. The heir is speechless when he promises they are still taking a break. The mention of their favorite gnawing pinky elicits a shrill squeal while they disappear. The Slayer left there to wonder what his orders were about.
Davoth did not want him to leave the tent… Did it have to do with the two out there or their previous conversation? Or something else? The faintest “No, sir” and a loud bone crack having him so tempted to investigate.
But if Davoth is saying it's for his sake, that had to hold some weight. A loud slurping sound has him getting to his feet, walking forward, and sitting down in the chair provided. He was all for enjoying a disgusting, bloody crime scene of a mess, but he likes to keep a day at the beach related to a real hunt. He knows what they defile; there is no honor in such things for him.
But he still smiles when the man he wants steps through and locks the tent down. The soft hum of a shield allows John to sigh as he wipes both hands on his thighs. The Slayer leans back, holding his head in a hand as he scans the other marine. Beyond the sweat clinging to John’s skin, there is nothing he needs to rub off. Still not trying to show worry when he sees some dark red spots where the knife must have burned him. It was almost stupid how quick he was to wrestle a well-equipped assassin unarmed. But the warrior would have done the same, ready to act as a shield until that final attack ended.
But there was nothing to worry about, so he asks, “Done?”
“Yeah, Sarge said he would clean up, so I guess I’m waiting here with you. The kid go somewhere?”
“Davoth took them, told to rest. Maybe grab a chair?”
“Can rest here,” putting a little weight on the back. “Besides, the ones we had before got destroyed. Pretty sure they were gone before we lost the tent.”
“Always room here,” patting his lap. “Don’t mind the baby.” Then laughing as John raises a brow and bends forward.
“Not in the mood for jokes, Slayer. Not after what I did.”
“I’m sorry,” giving the man’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “Davoth told me what happened. But I can distract.”
“Unless you brought a strong drink to share…”
“No,” frowning as he turns away.
“Hmmm, okay, you’re that kind of pregnant.”
“No, never ends well for me. Never drink with a baby.”
“Of course, one trauma fucks with another. And when I need something to go right for more than 30 seconds today.”
“There are better drugs.”
“Not for us. The Marines only stop testing the good shit once you reach First Sergeant. Which makes me wonder. Could Davoth get anything like denim or llama? Or just the normal black market organics?”
“Have… never asked… Are any of those safe?” squinting as he tries to decipher both questions. Does this planet not harvest plants that do that?
“Eh, some, but that will not help. As I said, the good shit,” sitting on the empty chair arm to recline against the other man. “I don’t think protecting the kid earned me any points. I’m pretty sure some want to make me pay for taking the glory of saving the bastard’s baby. How many did you kill to get some respect?”
The Slayer looks at the doorway, listening to the hum of the shield for a minute. “Won’t, do not have a role. A real, serious job. Not beyond this one with me. Know what happens without. You are a fighter.”
“Yeah…”
“Maybe another day.”
“Shouldn’t say that out loud. Might happen. I don’t want to learn how the universe is feeling.”
“Not like you are, are, are ever joining me. Be thankful for that fact. Make a good nanny.”
“Now you are tempting fate.”
“Hardly,” says the Slayer as Davoth answers the same. The man looking at the other side of the tent where the lord stands while John sits up, both staring as they see his empty hands.
“That was quick…” John smirking as he crosses his arms.
“Hell doesn’t work like the rest of the universes with time. That was enough to do everything Baal wanted.”
“Yeah, now we can go home. I assume the excavation is over if you’re here.”
“Correct. That’s why I have these,” a pair of bottles appearing. The corks disappear with quick pops, handing one to each man. “After today’s events, it is wise to celebrate what each has accomplished. I felt you both would appreciate what I bought.” The smile he wears seems genuine, the light in his eyes showing a soft glow as they dim.
“No, I can’t…” says the Slayer, trying to read the swirls and flowing vines of lettering across his bottle.
“That’s not wine, just juice. Enjoy the gift. That cost ten thousand because of how rare it is. The seller promised this variety would improve a baby’s birth weight.”
“I don’t…” seeing no words are from Earth. What is a Ò, and why did he get the sense this was so expensive because it wasn’t from this world? “Seems… expensive.”
“Yes, it is, but the wine you drank like soda on the other Earth was two hundred times that.”
“Hmmm…” taking a sip to find the thing tastes… no different from most grape juice. Sweeter and a way better flavor than any from UAC’s cafeteria, but nothing extraordinary. Anything for the fetus and the next hybrid in line for the throne. At least this one will remain the typical kind of weird.
“Bet it’s like every billionaire’s overpriced shit,” says John. “Never worth the upcharge.” Taking a long drink from his, the corporal pauses as he swallows. “That is not cheap beer…”
“Same region in France,” replies Davoth, walking over to make him take another sip by pushing up from the bottom. “Wanted a hard liquor, right? I think you will enjoy this. You deserve it,” smiling as he hugs the marine and pulls him closer to sit them both in a different chair. “Did the same for the Slayer when he could defend.”
The watching man grips his bottle’s neck tighter, again leaning back when he takes small sips. A hand on his stomach as it swirls. The lack of bile tells him this isn’t the fetus yet.
“Yes, sir…” he hears from John as the other lifts his bottle. The Slayer examines how the arm stops half-raised, the owner's face paling as Davoth homes in on this man. Neither of the men move when the lord beams, then guides the lip to John’s.
“Oh, I am going to love this,” he whispers, making the other’s eyes widen. “You will not forget what I do to you. Now drink, I made sure this was one you would enjoy. It should heighten the experience.”
“Yeah…” his hand lowering a little.
“What was that?” blinking as he looks down.
“Yes, sir,” leaning back to chug more as the lord shudders and touches a knee.
Then Davoth peers at the circle, glancing at the Slayer when he asks, “Should I make this better?”
“How?”
“Come here,” reaching out for the Slayer, who takes a sip. Then blanches. Now humming as the breeder spits it back into the bottle before the bile could reach his mouth. “Oh, are you getting nauseous? Yes, I can tell. Why don’t I take care of that?” standing up to grab the drink and toss it on the ground, the dark liquid pouring out by the door.
“Uh… wasn’t that expensive?”
“It’s juice. Why do you mind?”
“Um, you said… I don’t.”
“Good, now,” hooking a finger on the collar. A slow pull has them switch places for him to walk behind the men. Another kind smile shows as he takes John’s empty bottle to toss aside, cupping the Slayer’s chin when he faces the corporal. “I think all who show exceptionalism deserve rewards. No matter how low their rank. That is something I’ve told my beautiful breeder more than once. He understands it well. And I am not one to betray my own rules. Even for you.”
The man shrugs. “Just doing my job. However, I don’t mind another drink for my efforts.”
“That is not a part of your duties.”
“Still would like more wine.”
“Is that all?”
“Everybody knows you won’t be so uncharitable. Now hurry, I feel something.”
“Only trying to be fair. I heard how you were treated by the First Sergeant at the truck from Kelly. That will not happen again.”
“Then you did more than enough. Can I get medicine for these burns? Got a cream?”
“Of course,” turning to the Slayer. With a small smile, he pulls the man into a soft kiss, the strange angle twisting the man’s head. A palm on the back of his skull keeps him there for a long minute. A gasp slips out when they seem to twist and curl into each other. The odd sensation is more confusing than painful or pleasurable. Yet not unpleasant either…
The bigger marine has no chance to react. A hand lifting to grab an arm, he blinks and sees he’s staring at John again, the lord behind the other man, who holds a full bottle. The cork gone, all look at his healed torso. The corporal raising a brow as he looks at Davoth, he lifts the drink and downs a third of the contents. A little dribbling down the corner of his lips that he catches with a lick. Heavy eyelids droop as his face grows flush, and he smiles.
“There we go,” he says as he sinks into the seat. “That is almost gone.”
Davoth smirks and touches the corporal’s shoulder, saying, “Slayer, get started. John’s drunk enough to not resist too much.” A quick squeeze of said marine's upper arm and a tap on the bottle getting the man to have some more.
“Are you sure? He’s not… alright,” his voice huskier than intended as the toy stands up. An arm reaching out, he snatches a wrist and pulls down, having John stumble and sit in his lap.
“Yes, he is going to need this type of attention. Do not make him too frustrated by waiting,” watching the man get comfortable on the chubby thighs as a hand clutches the Slayer’s side. Both royals stare while John rubs the protrusion he’s competing with for space and whispers into the belly.
Then John says, “I hear the baby talking. None of it makes sense. Do you ever—”
“No,” shushes the Slayer and grabs his face, pushing it into his plump chest. “Do you ever wonder? About doing this? Even once?”
When the man can turn his head, he nods, his pupils dilated. “A couple of times… Mostly this. You know, to see what it feels like.”
“Yeah?” lifting the outer shirt to show the soft mounds that peek from his cleavage.
With a small bite of the lip, John jumps to take the crop top off much faster than it went on. A genuine smile shows when both white tops disappear and he stares for a moment, a last sip of wine before he tosses the bottle on the ground. “You do not understand how weird this is, Slayer. Most of the time I do this—” blinking as he stops. “Never mind, shit. I cannot… Fuck…” giving each breast a good rough squeeze. Quick to add as he licks one, “Never fucked a guy this big before. None got me this excited about their tits, either.”
And before the other marine can speak, he takes more of this offering, sharp tongue flicks over a bud causing the breeder to groan. The bigger man’s eyes squint as the hot, wet massage makes the nipples harden, biting the inside of a cheek to not shove him down and smother. The other smiling as he pulls off to watch and play with the pair. A dumb, I-cannot-think-right look across his face, he watches a little milk dribble out the tiny slits.
“Just remembered. Did this before, remember?” laughing as he hurries to get back to it, gradually sinking off the chair as his eyes cross. Each finger slow to release, he sucks harder the more his grip loosens. Only letting go when he touches the sand and falls onto his ass, spreading his legs.
The Slayer laughs as he watches, his cock twitching as his mind turns off. The tight shorts make him wonder what he would do next. This is not how he wanted to do this, but there’s not much either could do about that. Davoth did something make him act like this. There is no way he would be this happy to be distracted by the promise of sex without it.
But what did the lord mean by getting him frustrated? Was the wine that special? Maybe the planet it came from has special grapes? Or the drink did that when fermented?
The corporal seems to sense his indecision and asks, “Are we doing this or not? Should get started…” a slight frown on his lips.
“What do you want?” reaching out to pull the other to his feet.
“Get on your hands and knees,” he says, the answer oddly blunt. The order is strange in how commanding it is. Not his usual playful but demanding tone to rile the Slayer.
But the breeder cannot care when he nods. More so when the man shows he maintained his strength and pulls his user to the ground. A whisper of praise as he lays there. The Slayer blinks and looks up, seeing that John is on his feet and stumbling around.
A smile at Davoth, the drunk man asks, “You gonna do something…? Not going to watch. You wouldn’t…”
“Only if you want that.”
“Huh, is a choice…” blinking as if debating a serious conflict. “Fuck… need to fucking come. Shit. Get over here.” With a shrug, he looks down at the Slayer and says, “You wanted this, so do it,” kneeling again as they see Davoth stand behind the breeder. Now adding, “You cannot stop going for his goddamn ass, can you, sire?”
The lord grabs his vessel by the hips and chuckles. “I trusted Doctor Green too much with the dosage. He is always overcautious about under-dosing.”
“Not surprised. Love that fucker.”
“I also enjoy his skills. Sound familiar?” stroking the Slayer’s hip like he wanted to grab the fat almost melting under his heat.
“I better blackout if you’re taking this long to do anything.”
“As you wish,” running his hands down the thighs to part. A gasp from his vessel, he whispers to the spooked man, “Be a beautiful breeder and get him going.”
The Slayer smiles and nods, on his belly as he rips off the swimsuit. Before him the soft cock, he looks up at the toy grinning, his cheeks a lovely deep pink. The Slayer’s tits still dripping, he smears some milk on his palm and gets the length nice and wet as the other hisses. His gaze shows only pure joy when the brood-boar grabs the base and hears a low moan. The sound only gets stronger when the plaything slaps a hand over his mouth to muffle the next few. His throat bobs as if he swallowed a thick load when the fist goes faster and he grows harder, the shaft reaching full height quicker than ever before. The head in no time just the right angle for this to get better.
In seconds, the Slayer agrees and wraps his lips around the slick tip, the taste of sweetness and salt dancing on his tongue like a special treat. A bob of the head wetting the entire shaft as he stares up with a slow blink, pulling off to tease just under the glans. He gazes at John to catch how he causes the user to curl more than his toes. A low groan going great with the tight fist threatening to tear out the breeder’s hair.
The sounds are like music when he joins in on the tune, humming over the head to provoke the man. A little more speed and the Slayer hisses from a painful yank almost ripping out a few locks. A loud gasp from above tells him this is making the toy go crazy as he praises him with a lazy trail along the underside. The only thanks he desires given when the hand on his skull waits for him to lick the slit before guiding it back to the base.
John’s final ‘thank you’ coming when he does. A long moan and he spills on the Slayer’s tongue, the hot come hitting his throat as he fights to not swallow. His eyes widen when his stomach lurches out of fear and he pushes against the stronger marine. A hand on his spine keeps him there as he stiffens, every rope caught in his mouth while John finishes in the warm hole with sharp breaths. With a sigh and dumb smile, the corporal loosens his fist enough to let the other man escape and spit the large load on the ground. All of that effort he would have loved to show off to his user, wasted as it always is this far along. Wiping some off his chin, he behaves when fingers play with his ass before turning back to his toy.
Not like you could tell he came, though. Just as red and hard as before, John sits up and continues looking at the throbbing erection. A lick of his lips making the Slayer spit out more seed upon the ground. Still staring when the smaller marine stands up and looks down at him, the girth in his owner’s face.
“That is new…” fisting the sac. “Ya do that now? That’s weird.”
“Comes with the baby.”
“Yeah…” smiling as he studies the wet spot. “Is that all?”
“You get to always lead,” leaning back while reaching for his shorts.
“So you were thinking… a lot. Thinking a lot about this when you are so pregnant?”
“No. Only makes sense.”
“Yeah…” stumbling over to the wine he had tossed aside. With trembling fingers, the corporal downs the rest with a sloppy smack of the lips, wiping what doesn’t make it into his mouth with the back of a hand. “Oh… fuccccccckkkkkkk. What the hell… Tell that bastard Green to get this shit right next time! Going to blow a hole in his skull and fuck it!”
“Like that drink?” the Slayer asks when muscular arms encircle his ribs and hold tight. He is unsure if Davoth did something to this form, but he finds resting his head on the broad torso feels nice. The hands not wandering too much when they find his chest to get a turn playing with the breasts. His voice seems to pour out thicker when he asks, “You can’t be done. What—”
John frowns as he returns to grab the collar, the other inhaling the alcohol on the corporal’s breath. The smell is potent, making the Slayer shudder as he remembers how getting involved with such a drink ends. Such as the last time he was bent over by a drunk. That marauder had him begging for more while getting fucked like a beast and left with a head injury. A familiar and intense stare, as he often got from such demons, showing when John asks when he said he was done, was too hard to stop now. The Slayer smiles as he shakes his head and says he knows, likes the change of attitude.
The only reply the breeder gets is a hand on his girth, domineering fingers squeezing the growing bulge until the ensnared man bucks and moans. A laugh at his expected reaction, the Slayer picks up the words ‘on his back’ before he’s looking at the ceiling and wonders when his shorts got removed. John grabs the rising shaft and a thigh, stroking both as he mocks the other with his dick. A teasing poke with the slick head, the Slayer’s body reacts with a throbbing cock and whine, the slit leaking now. His limbs shake when the leg falls for the toy to rest his chin on the mound and ask if anyone hears a voice speaking gibberish.
Then he climbs on top and grinds his length on the enormous belly, smearing a little excitement on the underside. The corporal grins, pushing some hair aside as he asks, “Should I just fuck? Fuck, need to.”
“Yes,” reaching up to place a hand on John’s back, doing his best to guide the man to the right hole. Now wondering how he would look fucking the canal… Would he be as handsome when writhing and moaning marking the other tunnel?
Oh, how the breeder would love to find out one day… An involuntary bite of the lip earning the right reaction from the inebriated user.
“Wow, you are a good breeder…” John murmurs as a gentle push leads him to the entrance. Once the head kisses the rim, he pushes the hand aside and says, “Keep looking handsome. I like you, hunk…” Showing a dumb grin when he adds, “I made a huge mistake… Should have saved some for you. Don’t tell when I’m sober,” laughing as he grabs both thighs, wrenches them apart, and shoves his cock in before the Slayer can even think about that stream of consciousness.
His mind forgets all about the blush-worthy words when the other is plunging deeper and forgets to bother starting slow. Deep inside, the corporal does his best to stay there, acting like the blowjob never happened when he puts his entire weight on top. If the other marine was planning to question what he was just told, his brain fails when his feet sit by his ears. A low groan escapes as a pair of hands caress his belly. The toy moans when he grabs his breasts and rises, putting his full force on the breeder’s ribs.
A growing tangle of limbs ties them all together. Hot air surrounds the trio like a thick blanket, covering them in sweat as the number of fingers wriggling and grabbing feels strange. The Slayer begs for someone to make him useless. Fuck him until his legs stop working.
The energized fucktoy seems to melt and put more weight on his breasts, caring more about acting feral than how the nails dig in and the panting vessel gets fucked silly with pain. The thrusting hips are a blur to remind the warrior of his orders. Hard pulls on both buds rip a yell from parted lips and his chest covers his neck, jiggling to hear a growl while the other side goes crazy.
A buck and John punches the breeder’s guts like he is going to get a new heir again. Smiling as he thinks about that ever happening, the Slayer’s eyes roll back when it seems the man wishes to try. A few sharp thrusts grinding against his very swollen womb and prostate as a challenge. A grin almost splits his face in half when a lightning storm bombards his brain and he wants to arch his entire body.
Fuck, he was so right! He had to make sure the toy wasn't left without. This was so wrong, but he had no choice... Maybe if—
He hears Davoth speak as hands wrap around his throat. John responds by thrusting especially hard as he laughs, rising to let the Slayer’s legs fall to the ground as he stares at the lord. His hand reaches out when the larger arms retreat, instead cupping his face to whisper.
Both glance at the breeder when John frowns and furrows his brows, replying in a low voice. With a nod, Davoth licks a fang and gets rid of his clothes, his cock standing tall over the aroused man below. John shakes his head and whispers to not do that. Not going to help.
Davoth laughs and promises that this is not the plan as he kneels behind the toy. The ruler’s speech is hard to hear when he murmurs in John’s ear, licking the nape of his neck as he shudders. The marine’s face becomes more flush when he’s bent over the pregnant belly for a hand to find his ass. A couple of fingers inside when the Slayer sits up to watch and hold John while he moans, both their cocks twitching when the corporal pushes back a little. With a stupid grin on his lips, the breeder can only enjoy how hot the other feels from such treatment, small bucks keeping his hole filled.
And makes it impossible to not grab his own dick. Slow strokes tease the other two when he groans and plays with the head, more weight pushing on his body to make it harder and him hotter. Raised brows and a slack jaw are a perfect invitation to continue as he motions the fingering pair closer and they chuckle. The toy soon at the perfect angle for painting kisses and licks all over his chest, working his way up to parted lips.
And if the Slayer were to choose a word to describe the situation, it would be enthralling. Such a rough yet oh-so-smooth one. The term matches the hot tongue that forces itself inside. Earnest care and attention used to keep him still and craving more, distracted from his lack of use. The hands that grab his sides are not too harsh when they slide towards his chest, moans vibrating his body when the toy shakes and moves his hips. A loud gasp fills the tent when he pulls away too fast and leaves the breeder wanting more. A blink at the loss, the Slayer gets over the interruption when he sees the other make a dazed face.
Especially when he discovers why.
The lips that once captured his now hang loose, a panting tongue flopping out. The muscle swings with every push on the lord’s cock, his own jumping when he gets filled by the unmoving Davoth. Both hands holding the Slayer, he uses his knees to not put too much on the breeder as both grin at him. John’s eyes cross as he asks if this is better and grinds his ass on the girth, moaning when told how well he was doing. The praise is so delicious for the watching vessel when he sees how the man speeds up in desperation. A bite of the lip at the way his legs quiver when the toy wants more, he needs to see it happen as he touches the hard dick again, stroking what slips out. A loud sound of relief floods the tent as John lies on the Slayer and sobs, his lower half still moving as he seems overwhelmed.
But the two royals don’t mind when he stiffens, and a warmth hits the baby bump; both give knowing looks as he closes his eyes and more ropes shoot out. His face at last grows lax as he lets out a long exhale and Davoth backs away. Something solid pokes at the warm belly he lies on, making the bigger man see nothing has changed for the quivering marine. Still harder than a diamond and shivering like he was in a snowstorm, John holds on tight as he helps the Slayer sit upright. Hands cold and shaking, the toy peers at the hard-ons twitching between them.
“What the fuck…” mumbles John, grabbing the base as he breathes faster. Turning to Davoth, he asks in a louder but still unsure tone, “What is going on? The circle doesn’t… doesn’t do this.”
“Like the cocktail I gave you?” he replies. “Green wanted to make sure you could have fun until the alcohol took over. He knew what such a drug could do to the human body and how it might prevent an erection. Just added an extra ingredient to keep you hard and ready long enough for us all to have fun. I suggest you repay the good breeder for all he did. More fucking will help you both.”
“Why?” John almost sobs, shuddering when a larger fist takes his cock to stroke. A whimper is heard as the middle finger checks the dirty head. “No, I could—” choking on his words once two new hands tease more of his sensitive body.
“What a wonderful reaction! Now, show you can listen and stop asking stupid questions.”
The Slayer blinks as a fourth hand grabs the corporal’s jaw. Speechless at the sight when he is filled and moans. On his back for a drunk John and smug Davoth to see his excitement. The lord's husky voice floats over to his ears. He tells the man to take his time and enjoy the toy; the three had all night if the men liked.
Then they both move. The brood-boar’s body grows hot under them. Multiple hands on his hips and stomach compel him to grab the mismatched pairs on his torso as he becomes overwhelmed by pleasure. The fact he cannot focus on the mix of faces when he says to slow down shows neither will listen. Definitely not the sire after their eyes meet and he sees how the ruler’s brighten and morph, transfixed by the slits that dance around the irises. Lost in the crimson, he grabs John’s neck and pulls him closer to groan. The new angle and the strange sight having the Slayer curl his toes when told just how beautiful he looked.
And if the breeder was hot before, his skin is on fire as he chooses to believe this was all he ever wanted. The cock plowing him fucks the words back into his brain as he wants to melt under the sunlight and them. Something spurring the toy to push the gland that sends him over the cliff to fall fast. After all the teasing and watching, he cannot stop from moaning right before crashing into a powerful, pent-up finish. A shout and come spills on his belly as rugged breathing pushes more out. His legs tightening around the bodies that pin him to the floor, he squeezes the pair as they ease up, but do not quit. The last of the seed flies farther than the rest as his body explodes. Even after emptying his balls, his shaft throbs, and his sides heave from the effort.
The retreat effortless, John sits up with Davoth. Who smiles and pulls the smaller marine onto his lap, a slow lift of the hips having him seated when the lord asks, “Feeling better, vessel?”
The Slayer nods and rolls on his side, seeing the empty bottle that got tossed aside. His eyes close when he hears the pair whisper. A whimper followed by a smack, the corporal makes a noise before he moans. The muffled sound is just right for…
The two are in a rough kiss. Hands on the man’s sides and shoulders, John holds on tight as he grinds against the ruler’s ribs. A slow sway of the hips lets the pairs go lower. Neither seems to pay the other marine mind until Davoth snaps and adjusts to sit the toy on his chest, the lord lying on his back. A wink is seen from the odd angle as sand under the tent shifts and brings forth the prized brood-stallion, unable to resist the way the ground carries him forward.
Or whatever causes him to be turned around and bent forward, legs spread to sit on the wide lap as the heavy girth keeps them apart. A look over a shoulder, the breeder sees the toy groaning above the long tongue lapping up the messy entrance of his hole. His expression twisted with lust and utter confusion seconds before he howls and gets fully seated on the face, completely sedated by the hot muscle. Anyone able to imagine how the rim clings to it when he throws his head back and groans.
That’s the same moment two hands grab the Slayer's hips and lift him above the broad head waiting for his hole. The slit tests his ass; he adjusts as the way opens, and he sinks onto the glans. A low moan as he feels the familiar cock slip inside and a new hand rubs his belly. A small smile for no one, he can still sense the praise as he groans. Claws dig into his plump body, long lacerations decorating the form the other had shaped him into. Soft flesh yielding to the force while lifted to the top. His voice loud but tight—like he always is for the sire.
The Slayer bends to the touches for just a moment. Then his ass is slapping skin faster than he could drop to his knees in Hell. Hot hands and a formidable body have him leaning on his palms to not fall over while his hole gets abused and beaten. Painful bucks acting as if the breeder was supposed to hate this. His lips are a lot more slack after he’s pulled back, and his entire frame shudders from the energy coursing through his veins. Alight with pent-up need, the desire grows when he listens to the shared moans of all. The air he breathes is hotter than the ground outside. If he pretended the collar was doing this... No, it had to be all that training with the stone activated. Davoth made him like this. He wanted this and made sure his breeder did too.
Still thinking so when a howl smacks his eardrums, and he is riding Davoth faster. Bending forward more as he fights to keep his balance. The speed is so much worse than most days as he begs for the ruler to slow down. A clear voice tells him to be silent. Flinching when a hand grabs his arm, he yelps when slapped on a thigh and pushed down. All the way down on his belly for the enlarged sac to catch him. Fat ass in the air when he gets seconds to adjust. An attempt to apologize is cut off by the cock punching his guts. The Slayer’s throat tightens after he hears heavy breathing from behind, and the thrusts resume.
The bucks only grow faster as punishment, stretching the walls as his belly distends even more. But despite the mistreatment, the brood-stallion can’t help but moan and praise the lord with curled digits on all four limbs. His spine arching when the fingers show the word ‘stop’ is impossible to say. No matter how loud he screams from how hard Davoth stabs his prostate and squeezes the womb.
The thick load he offers turns into a display and gift for Davoth when he shoots into the floor. The clenching hole is like a fist on the lord’s dick when he stops to pick up the breeder and show off the mess. A last rope flying when seated in the royal lap to jiggle and bounce the same as every time he’s so far along. The same tight hold on his supple torso as he holds on to his ruler tighter. A firm hand assures the Slayer that Davoth would never let go, while a second pair squeezes his chest, and he receives a kiss on the neck. His flush face only gets darker as he grabs the sculpted arms and sighs, his hips rising to the top.
A purr and warning to get ready, the lord slams him down to shoot deep inside. The breeder’s eyes widen with every shot of seed pumped far into his guts. Each throb of the shaft emphasizing what he had done for this. All the coaxing he used to feel the second user's load paint his insides, filling his stomach from the massive orgasm. Shaky knees telling all how much he loved it and proved the collar was not the reason. Utterly powerless to stop the next round when he’s picked up, still impaled while Davoth walks over to the doorway and opens the tent.
The Slayer tries to resist when he gets pulled off and kneeled in the sand. The sun setting on the horizon, he observes the dimming light while his thighs spread wide. A loose mouth open to accept the long tongue that tastes oh so sweet when his face is wrenched to the side. A loud grunt, the first in an endless stream of cries, when he rolls his eyes into his skull. Davoth takes care of them both as he watches the skies from the ground, the stars much clearer while being bred under the bright moonlight. The waves crashing on the shore as he looks up when it is all over and hot ropes hit his front, come from both decorating his body. His face and hair a disgusting mess when he finds his legs are to weak to move.
But the ruler smiles when he pulls out and dunks him under the waves, washing him in the warm water. The word ‘beautiful’ is fitting for him and the night sky as he walks back inside the tent—or at least the lord says so. Eyelids lowered and head bent when led away from the shore and watching guards.
And he remains subdued when he gets dressed by Davoth. The touches after he’s dried are soft and slow, tracing the areas already decorated with claw marks and deep bites. Thoughtful fingers circling every wound as his swimsuit slips on. An occasional kiss on the face has him pay attention as his mind churns after the rough fuck. His flesh was far more willing to continue than himself. The lord’s whisperings are as sweet as the gentle lullaby in the vehicle. Green eyes once more watching the Slayer, the new gaze is just as kind as the words when he takes his breeder’s wrist and slings a passed-out John over his shoulder. The interior was so dim the warrior didn’t see the limp body of the corporal until Davoth stands over and picks him up. A hand firm on the unconscious marine’s thighs as they head for the Roamer as it drives closer.
As they walk up the hill, the Slayer remains quiet as a couple of marines ask if the ruler had finished with John. A few more snickering, asking if he could take a different vehicle back with them. They’ll be gentle, even if he wakes up.
Davoth glares and snaps, the simple gesture sending the group to their own Roamers as all say they were joking or only wanted to check on the corporal. None staying long enough to see him set the man on a bench and help the breeder sit next to him. The conscious pair relaxes as the lord holds his favorite brood-stallion and asks what he liked about today.
The Slayer shrugs, saying he loved seeing the ocean and getting some sun. All feeling familiar to what he hoped was home. A quick squeeze of the arm enough of a reply before a soft song warms him up like the sunlight when they arrived.
***
John's not sure what is worse, the nausea or the hard cot. Either way, he groans and sits up, looking around the room. In the same bed he woke up in this morning, he sees… men getting dressed and laughing…
The man jumps up and realizes he is no longer in the swimsuit, his once almost naked body now in a loose shirt and underwear. The sudden movement has him heave as his stomach lurches and feet sway, drawing looks from the techs across the room. Some continue preparing while the rest disperse, talking to each other as the space empties.
With another groan, John sits down to flop on the pillow. What the hell did he drink at the beach?
“Hey, you good?” asks the only voice he wants to hear.
A slow turn reveals the raised brows of the Slayer—once more in a jumpsuit—as he gets up with some trouble. John wipes his face on the blanket since he can’t move fast enough to help. The alcohol still keeps the man vulnerable. A useless waste of space as the drink still haunts him.
Fuck the shit… What the shit was he thinking? Why did he not stop after the first bottle? Was he that desperate for something to forget all of this?
Yeah. Maybe self-control could have been used… He got cocky after all that fun in the sand.
The question about John’s well-being repeats, and he responds. The tone slow and cautious as he asks, “What happened today? Did I blackout while drinking?”
“You don’t remember anything?” asks the man, sitting next to him.
“No… I had the first… wait… Slayer, did I have a second bottle of wine? I had that? Did I do anything stupid or violent? Ugh, can’t…” head pounding as he wonders if he remembered things right.
He doesn’t have burns after the fight.. and his ass is not in pain. There’s no blood anywhere.
Now he asks, “Please, tell me what is going on! Did I do something while we were drinking? Did I get groped or molested? What did that bastard do? I can’t remember anything!”
The Slayer smiles and brings the corporal closer, rubbing his back. “Shhhh, no. Just drank a couple. Two small wines. Fell asleep after finishing the second. Davoth carried you. Marines wanted you but, but, but he said no. Didn’t let them touch.”
“What? Stop shitting me right now.”
“I’m not. John, you saved Baal’s life. That means something.”
“Ya sure? Davoth hasn’t forgotten that other incident.”
“And Baal loves you. Accept the victory.”
“I guess. Still okay after all the fun and excitement?”
“Yes, yesterday was good.”
“Yesterday?”
“Yes. Slept most of the evening and, and, and all night.”
“And Davoth never forced me? Not even once?”
“No, I kept him busy. Wanted it.”
“Slayer, don’t lie to me.”
“Davoth was nice after, after the fight. I preferred you rest.”
“Yeah…”
“Got the day off now. Want to do something? To forget that.”
“Like what?” standing up as he plays along with this distraction. “Maybe a movie? Or some lazing outside. Should really take things easy now.” John’s mind races to find activities for the guy this far into the pregnancy, already helping the other stand despite a distressed head and stomach.
“Whatever.”
“Well, why don’t you think about that while we walk? I’m gonna get something for this headache while you decide.”
“Sounds good,” grabbing his PDA to follow. “Need the exercise.”
“Great, now I can help you work out. Hmmm, should do that…”
“Only if you change,” pointing to the skimpy pajamas John currently wore. Giving a slight smile as he adds, “I like this, but…”
“Ah shit, yeah, hold on,” rushing to dig out a crisp clean shirt and pants. Already putting it on as he laughs, not minding the lone audience member as he sighs and smooths his uniform.
Yes, he can do this. He would get out of this alive. Just needed to not fuck this up anymore. One day… one day he would see that bastard dead. And then he would be satisfied.
Or at least, enough to win the only thing he really wants…
Chapter 16: You Can’t Return To Your Old Life, But Who Cares? Would Anyone Be There?
Summary:
The marines get an upgrade to their living space, all preparing for the day the heir will arrive. The Slayer is forced to face the truth about VEGA, and meets a new breed of demon.
Notes:
Decided to mix it up with the demon showing its face this time around. Which means I had a D3 demon to make it extra fun. It's a bit more expressive than most, but god, is it a brute no matter how you look at it.
Also, I noticed there was a lack of demon dicking in a while, so here we go. :3 Things will not improve for the Slayer until he fully submits.
Tell me how this chapter reads. I had to switch editing programs but found this one makes things more streamlined. If this affects the readability, don't be afraid to say so.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Hey Slayer...” whispers a soft voice in his ear.
The man sits up, opening his eyes to see John straighten with a sheepish grin. The target of this rude awakening raising a brow.
“What?” the Slayer whispers, stretching as his spine shifts back into place. Fucking cot.
“Seems to be our lucky day. I guess… Depends on what you want to do with the news.”
“What?” zipping up his jumpsuit after fixing the white top.
John blinks, his mouth hanging open for a second. “Sarge couldn’t get in contact with you, so he emailed me. Thanks to your medical condition, he has revoked our tech credentials. He wouldn’t stop demanding to know why you didn’t reply, and I answered you were sleeping. Got told to not even bother requesting jobs.”
“Oh,” pulling out his PDA to see multiple messages from Kelly with ever increasing anger. The Sergeant asking repeatedly what the Slayer was doing and why he refused to swiftly respond.
But there was no way he was going to answer. The constant noise and the frustration at the interruptions to his nap had just made the fetus wake up and get a second feeding to piss him off.
The first that morning was bad enough. He fell in the hallway and a few watching marines had to pick him up. The two in the front were helpful, but the guy who grabbed his chest from behind was way too eager, squeezing his ribs in a failed attempt to help. The excessive effort almost leading to both men falling on the others.
Now fixing his bed, the Slayer says, “Sounds fine. Need some good today.”
“How long before they kick us out?" asks John, looking at his own PDA. "You already had your schedule reduced when the baby reached third-trimester in size.”
“Doesn’t matter. Should soon.”
“Maybe...” turning as the two supervisors walk over.
Shawn, taking the lead, waves to the marines as he simpers, walking over to stand in front of the Slayer. “Hello, how are we doing?” his eyelids lowering as he looks down at the man and his wrinkled uniform.
“Good,” rubbing a thigh.
“That is wonderful. I just came to say Kelly took access to everything and reassigned your roles. Already have the cots filled. However, you get clearance to a private hospital room for the rest of the pregnancy.”
“Thought so.”
“That’s good. I hear the beds are quite nice. Need any help packing?”
“Nah, I got this,” says John, kneeling under his bed to dig out a backpack and begin folding clothes.
“Huh, guess having a marine around is nice right about now... Either way, love the attitude.”
“Yeah,” agrees Cody, crossing his arms as he frowns. “Faster than when he had an actual job.”
“Sir, I do not work for you,” says John. “I could do the same right now.”
“Not my problem. I don’t care how long this takes; Mister Brooks is the one walking you there.”
“What?”
“The boss insisted on it. Wanted to be certain Slayer didn’t fall in the hall. Again.”
“Uh, huh…?”
“Just remember the bottle. Made sure I said that. We’re all dead if that isn’t taken.”
“Yeah, yeah... hold on,” shuffling around under the Slayer’s cot, a hand showing the clear container.
The two satisfied with his find, the men exit with quick waves and farewells.
John frowns and glances at the Slayer, who just shrugs and rubs his belly. Seems the lord wanted to finish the last office visit after getting settled. Or maybe in the hospital room...
The warrior blinks and looks at his body, biting the inside of a cheek at the situation. He’s at that period when everything is too tight, too small, and too fast. And he hated it all. The day his breasts started looking like water balloons, Davoth got ideas. His reduced workload was less of a gift than the rest of the technicians treated it. The view from the shaking desk was better than kneeling on the floor, but he wished the lord stopped groping his ass when he wanted to sleep.
Not that he would ever voice those complaints to anyone. None of the dismissive words were worth fighting over when a follower might hear.
But he would not hear the techs' judgment again as David walks inside. A hand tucked in his pocket, he strolls over and watches John dig under the cots. Folded clothes are stuffed down as the lord checks his watch, turning the face under the light. A hum when gazing at the bent-over man, he lifts the Slayer to his feet and looks him over.
“Are you ready to leave?” Davoth asks his breeder.
“Could have done that.”
“Don’t be foolish, I do not mind. Now tell me, are you ready to go?”
“Yeah.” He doesn’t resist when a hand wraps around his wrist and pulls him onto the open floor. A slow gesture showing nothing to worry about when their fingers intertwine.
“Do not pout, you shall do enough thanks to Mort,” the name said with disdain as his face falls.
“What is happening?” glancing over as John approaches with a backpack on each shoulder. “What are we doing? Another excavation?”
“Seems the human cannot stop causing problems, and insisted I speak with him about a new hassle.”
The way the lord curls his hand into a fist for a second keeps the Slayer from responding, letting the grip on him tighten. The arm allowed to keep some normal blood flow, he still flinches when a slight shrug has them walking out the door and into a hall by a medical bay. Behind them is a storage closet while a nurse walks past, the men blinking as the stranger bows to Davoth. The quiet of these much calmer and less traveled halls washes over as they go around the corner to an unlocked door. The wide doorway open to a smaller but more cushioned space.
Even the dull gray walls seem warmer as he steps inside to see the bed, which is identical to the last time he had one of these rooms. The mattress is thicker than the pillow laid on top, perfect for his aching body. That nice sleep after Doctor Greene used him flooding back as he focuses on the aftermath and the oddly quiet morning after.
He sinks into the warm blanket and looks at the basic furniture in the corner and by the bed. A screen along the other wall, he says nothing when he sees toys nearby. It was nothing like the bedroom at the palace, but he didn’t care at all. It was better than the cots, knowing that he had earned this.
Yeah, he deserved this. The pride that swells in his chest feels right.
Though neither of the other two say much, enough noise comes from below as John puts everything away as quick as he packed it. The Slayer raises a hand to help, but Davoth pushes it aside and tells the corporal to show him the bottle; humming when the mysterious clear liquid glints under the lights. A few notes float from the lord when he sits and says to keep going. Then he turns to the Slayer, unzipping the jumpsuit as he speaks.
“What would be best?” the words more for himself than anyone else. “Ah,” whispering for the orange fabric to be replaced with a loose sweater and dress pants. The boots gone for plain shoes.
The Slayer blinks, squinting as he examines the simple attire. This was oddly standard. “What is going on?”
“I need you to do your duties and take care of Baal while I deal with the human. Mort has twins he keeps at the mansion. Baal has played with them before.”
“So I’m watching them?”
“No, they have a nanny that is familiar with my child. Just act engaged and let her lead.”
“That explains it.”
“Be patient. We all know what you want. I also would prefer you in less, and with me.”
“When are we going?”
Davoth checks his watch while creating a projection in the other hand. A look at the three figures walking up a set of stairs, he says, “Right now. The children finally left their driveway.”
“Okay...”
“Must have a long limousine or something,” says John, getting to his feet to consider the Slayer’s new outfit with a raised brow.
“No, it's a half-hour drive from the gate,” replies Davoth, facing the door when he continues. “The company town and front lawn aren’t small.”
“What? What the fuck did you say? Repeat that.” His face is serious, his eyes searching the ruler's face.
“Behave for the children,” hissing as he glares at the smaller marine. “If you try any more risky games, you will be passed around the entire business floor tomorrow. Understand?”
“Are you fucking kidding me? We both know I wouldn’t, just look at him. I have some sense.”
“It’s bold of you to talk about sense. You often forget you can use it.”
“Sorry I incapacitated the assassin for ya kid. I won’t bother getting burned next time they’re in danger. Shame, I did like them.”
The lord rolls his eyes and leads them to the door. “Are you not doing your job? Is forfeiting duty not without consequence?”
“And you said that wasn’t—” stopping when they step onto the grass of a massive garden.
All around are colorful plants and bright-colored creatures, trimmed trees and long branches filling the Slayer's vision. Right on the edge, the three turn to view a sea of silvery and iridescent birds that cover a black path before them. The taller white animals lift their tails to fan out, revealing more eyes that stare back on each feather. These creatures far more composed, the smaller shimmering foul fill the otherwise silent area with odd noises and ruffled wings. Their puffed-up chests and glinting bodies like jewels in the sunlight, they seem to blur together in a shiny haze as some coo at the new arrivals.
Then the men step forward.
All the birds take to the sky as a single swarm, high in the air as they head for the trees like a single creature. The sound of flapping wings is all they hear when the flock leaves behind an immaculate road and a clear path to the entrance. The building not as towering as the palace—nowhere near tall enough to cut through the clouds—it seems to go in both directions across the horizon, the ends out of view. Glass and metal reveal the white guts of the monster, bland designs showing through tall windows.
But he's distracted when Davoth places a hand on his back, helping him to the doors and into the maw of the pale beast. The lord leaves him just past the doorway, walking off as the man spots hungry eyes staring him down. A dominating sense of disquiet fills his chest from the attention, the CEO shrinks the space between them without taking a single step. Their host gazes at the Slayer as his grin stretches wider, the attention never traveling higher than the breeder’s chest for more than a second.
The target of the attention turns away as John puts a palm on his holster, a quick wave having him glower while both men step aside. The old man’s stare still lingers after the warrior's back is turned, seeing it in a window's reflection. The Slayer knew why he got such treatment from the superior, but it doesn't make him any less uneasy.
Did the man still have the bottle of milk, or did he drink it all? Would this involve the pump again?
“Most wise and venerable one,” Mort says when he must focus on Davoth. Giving a quick bow, he adds, “I apologize for the suddenness, but this is important.”
Davoth squints and crosses his arms. “Why did you call?”
“The help discovered something. I had it moved below.”
“Get a drink ready and the nanny fed. Show me the folder,” snapping like he owned the place as the actual owner hurries to stay close to the lord. A couple of people in dress clothes emerge from a side hall when they walk past, both staying at their heels with tablets in hand.
As they depart, a portal opens for Baal to fall through, landing in the Slayer's arms. Giving a snort, they peer at the bland statues and dull paintings decorating the walls. A hand used to stand and lean on their papa’s chest, the child steadies their hooves and frowns.
The man is about to speak when they perk up and look further down the hall, a finger pointing as he hears footsteps. Right after, three people stroll into view.
A woman comes first, leading a boy and girl by the hand as they turn a corner. An order to hurry, she looks at Baal and smiles, telling the almost identical children the royal is already here. All three little ones scream upon spotting each other, the larger twins pulling free to run over and say hello as the glass and walls shake. All talk at once as Baal tries to escape their hold. Their vessel orders to stop wriggling as they refuse to listen. The man ready to yell when the new woman rushes over and lifts an arm.
“Hey, allow me,” touching the baby to have them turn and squeal, reaching out to be held.
Black eyes growing big, Baal hugs her neck. “Sasha!”
“Hi, Baal,” she replies, scratching a tusk.
Her smile looks genuine, a light in her eyes that most humans don’t show when looking at them. Almost all who meet them are nice and display affection, but she seems to have a knowing expression like Kelly. A familiarity demonstrated by only those they find favorable, she holds the child as they nuzzle into her cardigan. Brown hair tied back with nothing (that was visible), she dresses more comfortably than the staff before, her shirt and pants a looser cut on her short frame. The casual clothing more distinct from everyone else besides the Slayer as she walks around in flats.
Even the twins wear more formal outfits, the nice button-up shirts and pressed shorts looking more like uniforms than play clothes. Both ruddy faces wear smiles as they stand over and talk with the heir, their hair more out of place than the attire as both push aside messy bangs. The boy’s locks shaggy and long, the girl keeps most of hers tied back with braids. The trio is babbling about a video when Sasha gets told to lower Baal to the ground, a hand holding her leg to keep talking while craning their neck. Both humans belly-height on the breeder, their vessel wants to smile at the stark size difference.
As Baal waves a free arm, the woman turns to the Slayer. “So, you must be the much-talked-about papa. It is good to meet you.”
“Yeah. You are the nanny?”
“Yes. As Baal said, my name is Sasha, and I have cared for a few of Mister Vance’s children. Don’t worry about anything today. I’ve got a plan to make it easy for you. I’m wonderful with kids even before they are born. Done enough with the pregnancies that my employer has monitored here. I know how to schedule an easy after-school play date.”
“Sure...” playing with the hem of his sweater.
“Just tell me if you need something or want to stop, and I’ll help.”
“Should be good.”
“Don’t be shy. I am here to ensure Mister Vance has nothing to worry about,” her eyelids lowering as if she wants to assure the man.
The Slayer nods, looking at her feet.
“What’s the plan?” asks John, walking over to hold out a hand. “Kid calls me toy, but you can call me John. The ba—their father sometimes does.”
Sasha looks him over and turns to Baal, touching their arm to ask, “Honey, what is this one?”
The baby smiles and points at the corporal. “He is not fixed; he’s toy.”
“Ah, I see,” sizing up the man with half-closed eyes. “So, you are the plaything they’ve mentioned. Said some interesting things.”
“All good?”
“Just interesting.”
“Like what?” chuckling as he glances at the Slayer.
“You’re great with guns and could swim. And you enjoy being played with? With them and their father?”
“That is not... That is not very…” rubbing the back of his neck. “I am here because of what I can do—and do well. My training comes in handy for both.”
“Oh, I am not one to judge another man’s choice in nanny. But I was surprised to hear of your old position. Quite the change.”
“Yeah, some might say that. But don’t worry, I know how to deal with anything Slayer or Baal needs. That’s why I’m here. Just tell me the plan so I can help.”
“I prefer they tell me if things require attention. You are both guests here, and I want the issue dealt with correctly. So try to stay close and do not wander off. This place is too large for anyone to be found in a timely manner unless you use a map.
“Also, Mister Brooks warned about your habit of wandering off with Slayer on breaks. Please refrain from such activities, especially if you're thinking of sneaking off. You can last a few hours without longer distractions.”
“Right...” a hand on his holster. “I suggest you follow your own advice, and we’ll survive today without problems.”
Sasha raises a brow at this, crossing her arms as she leans on one foot. A peer at the children, she replies, “I do not tolerate such attitudes from anyone. Ever. You might have naval training, but I do not appreciate being threatened. More so when it’s based on projection.”
“I don’t threaten. I am just being realistic.”
Ah shit, not here.
A sharp pang has the Slayer look around, in search of distraction. Finding nothing nearby, he grabs John's arm to say, “Need a seat.” Lowering his voice to whisper in an ear, “Not here.”
“Oh, fuck... how long can you stand?”
“Soon.”
“Okay, then let me,” patting the hand before brushing it off to pick up a still-babbling Baal. Turning to Sasha, he asks, “Uh, so about the plan? How far do we have to walk? I ain’t letting him fall again.”
“Hmmm. This will be a simple day. We’re going to the zoo below for snacks. The elevator is close, so he should be fine,” she says, walking over to the Slayer to touch an arm. “Don’t worry, you just say if we need to stop. I can call for a chair if you want one.”
“Uh, thanks,” stepping back when John walks over and stands on the other side.
The nannies exchange looks as the man in the middle strolls down the hall, waiting to be followed or corrected. This slow departure is not missed. The rest walk over to catch up as Sasha points to a set of doors further inside the entrance wing as she calls it, ushering everyone through to have them descend as the numbers lower like a countdown.
As they go deeper down, John touches the Slayer's arm and asks, “Hey, you okay? Not cramping?”
“Not anymore.”
“Good. With how you were this morning.”
“Yes.”
“Well, you can’t get stressed at a zoo. Right, Baal?”
A glance at the heir, they smile and nod. “Yeah, there’s a lot of animals! And Daddy said I could play with some. Both got new polar bears.” Turning to the twins, they ask, “Maria, what are they called?”
The girl looks up and says, “I named mine Coke, and Alexi named his Powder.”
“Those are memorable names,” replies John, lifting his brows with interest. “Why those?”
Alexi places a hand on his chest with a proud expression. “Our brother named the last one Caffeine. Daddy said if it died, we could name the new ones. Powder spoke to me."
Maria only shrugs and says, “I like coke.”
John adjusts Baal in his arms. “Right... So, uh, sorry about the bear, must miss the animal.”
She shakes her head. “Nah, just a clone. David killed it with a punch.”
“Is your brother mad about that? I mean, the polar bear was his.”
“Nope, not after he had to move out. Daddy gave it to us.”
“Oh, he’s way older than you two. Happy he graduated?”
“No... he earned B’s last year, so left the mansion. Lives with his mom now.”
“That doesn’t sound fair.”
“No, he was very lazy. He had the easy classes, so didn’t try.”
“Ah, I see... Explains everything. Hope the fucker it executed got in at least one hit.”
“No,” says Baal, grabbing a hand. “The human ran and fell on the ice. Daddy said it was useless alive and had to go. Slower than papa when he’s pregnant. That’s why Daddy had to take its job.”
“Why? They do something?”
“No, it was dumb. Caffeine killed it fast,” hugging the corporal’s arm. “Slapped its head off. Then Daddy said the bear was needed too, so he punched it, and it died. One punch to the belly,” slapping the palm. “I got a claw that big.”
“Good for you,” letting the held hand end up in Baal’s mouth as the elevator doors open. “Though I think someone needs actual food.”
“I don’t wanna eat you.”
“Better not.”
“We can’t play then. Alexi promised we could hunt some humans. I told ‘em you can shoot and chase them, and Daddy said we could use demons to help.”
“Yeah, I do—”
“Kids, no,” interrupts Sasha. “Nobody is sending a trained marine after the staff. And not for a game. We will not call the cleanup crew again.”
“Why?” asks Maria, planting her hands on her hips.
“Your father ordered that there be no more incidents.”
“That’s not fair.”
“This is more than fair. Now select what you want,” pulling out a small square with a screen as the twins read the tiny text.
Next handing the thing to John, who mumbles about the food choices while tapping on the list. About to give the device back, Sasha looks displeased and turns to ask the Slayer what he wants. An insistence on making him order having the warrior tell her multiple times he wasn’t hungry, can’t eat anything. The woman is unwilling to accept he doesn’t want something.
The man is only listened to after he mentions the nausea and how he would puke. Next offered tea instead. A promise that sitting down would help more seems to end that conversation with an understanding nod and pat on the arm.
The man can only sigh at the effort, wondering why the new nanny was so insistent.
But he doesn’t find an answer when a hand on his back leads him to a table to be seated by a spanning, soaring glass wall. The surface covered in frost, the heavy barrier holds enough water to call itself a lake. The Slayer sees a few fish swim from the rocky bottom of the tank, their dull color standing out against the crystal blue. Most going back down, a few stay close to the ice while a pair of white creatures float to the top and emerge onto the ice. Black eyes stare at the humans as they rise to their hind legs to observe the children. Both towering over the three adults, they stand twice as tall as the lord. The massive paws bigger than a human head, these monsters look like they could kill the entire group in the time it took him to yell for help. While shaggy and wide, their great limbs appear almost too long, even with the giant claws. Thick muzzles sporting impressive fangs when they roar and lower onto all fours again.
Is that...
“There they are! Coke and Powder!” squeaks Baal, motioning John forward while they wave, and the bears do the same. The heir beaming when they add, “Alexi and Maria said we can send out a bruiser and tyrant later. I gotta practice.”
But the twins are not as patient. A call to do something right now has the royal child wearing a big grin as a few gargoyles and a whiplash fall into the snow. These bears seem to understand what this means, showing no fear as they begin this new game and sprint at the summoned creatures. The impressive weapons they possess grab and pin the serpent demon from both ends as the flying imps leap into the air. The more metallic creature screams as it gets torn in half, the thin arms ripped off to disappear into hungry jaws.
Blood stains the snow under their feet when it turns to black dust, and the bears focus on the rest. A green fireball sends them running for the nearby rocks as the gargoyles must land. This crude wall is more so a quick hiding spot than actual defense. The pair soon jump from behind to charge the resting demons, ending most with a single swipe. A last-survivor flying in the air when a bear swings again, the ash as it burns away floating down like snowflakes. A roar at the shared victory dominating the cries for more.
“Not bad,” says the Slayer, turning to the beaming child. “This is a better game.”
“Daddy said I have to practice. I control the demon and do all kinds of stuff. Will you stay awake for the bruiser? I wanna show you a trick it can do.”
“Bruiser… that a new one?” taking them to sit on his lap.
“I don’t know, but it killed all the fish last time. The screen started shooting sparks after it fell through the ice.”
“What does it look like?”
“Big and strong and tall. And machine. There’s a screen for a mouth… Daddy says they got flame shooters. But that didn’t do anything last time.”
“Water kills fire.”
“Oh… No... That’s not right… ALEXI!” waving the boy over to huddle together in a heated discussion. After a minute, they turn back. “Never mind, he says that was the lithium.”
“What?”
“It burns a lot, but you gotta put it in water.”
“Yes.”
Any more discussion on the subject ends as a tray of food is served. The clink of dishes and their aromatic scents waft over to his nose, making his mouth water. The Slayer looks at the meals as he hears Baal squeak and crawl into his sweater, the child climbing toward theirs. Then averting his gaze when the twins pause, staring at the moving baby as they get comfortable on his belly. Both turn to Sasha as she nods and murmurs something. A grunt makes each turn for a second before she touches their shoulders, and the pair go back to eating.
She looks at the Slayer when John taps his arm and motions him to lean over. The man’s lips almost touch the lobe when he whispers, “You speak up if the nanny needs to leave. Something’s going on here.”
The warrior turns to whisper his reply, “She’s here for a reason.”
“Exactly. Don’t hesitate if things go wrong.”
“Is that smart?”
“I am not known for my sense, remember?”
“You’ll end up dead, dead—”
“Not with my luck.”
“Use some intelligence,” backing away to speak with a normal volume.
John frowns and shakes his head, going back to a sandwich. “Then I won’t wait. Or ask.”
“Never do.”
“Why bother?” sipping a drink. “More fun to do things that way.”
“Slayer, is something wrong?” Sasha interjects, standing up to look down at the corporal. “I can take you somewhere if you need anything.”
“Uh no.”
“I see, so it was your nanny. John, do we need to speak about a problem?”
“Hardly,” the man replies. “Unless you think we should talk in private…”
“Then you don’t have to leave?”
“Not at all.”
“Good, I would hate for there to be a reason to come find you.”
“Should I say the same?”
“No, not at all. I understand how boundaries work.”
“Smarter than the last guy. Felt wonderful to see that assassin tossed into the Roamer. I wonder what happened to all of them after they were taken away.”
An odd spitefulness oozes from his tone that makes the Slayer watch Baal unlatch and slip out of his sweater. None of the adults move when Alexi grabs the baby and says they can sit in his lap, the entire zoo growing quiet. The children silent when they find a table away from their caregivers and watch a different animal. The warrior frowning at their reactions, he turns back when John steps away from his seat.
Sasha glares at the corporal, blinking after she looks down. “Yes, Mister Vance ranted about the attack on the beach after he found out. Said the assassins were taken care of.” Her tone is measured, like the woman wanted to say more when she sits again.
“Yep,” standing to go over to the children.
Her fingers curling around a fork, she smiles at the Slayer and pulls out a small device, pushing a button on the top before putting it in her pocket again. “Feeling better?”
“Yes,” looking at the discarded plates.
“You do not have to be shy. As long as you are here, there’s no price for a small favor, and the bigger ones only require a handshake.”
“What do you want?” leaning one arm on the table. “Nothing costs nothing.”
“It is what I promise all who Mister Vance has carry his children, so I don’t mind. Some need a helping hand, others prefer to know the options at all stages. Mostly after they give birth… I am here to take care of the kids from conception and stay unseen. That is good enough for me.”
“That’s all?”
“Well, if you want peace from the toy, I could always distract him. Nothing that would hurt him. I can control myself. He would just have to sleep it off.”
“Oh...” blinking as he makes actual eye contact. “Why?” the small swirl in his gut becoming more noticeable. Working for someone connected to Davoth earns favors. Baal liked her. This was the obvious conclusion.
“Don’t worry, I could handle him. Dealt with bigger training for this position.”
“Yeah...”
“And yes, even stronger than you. I know what kind of company Mister Brooks keeps. And how both men create rightful heirs for their empires.”
“What did you, you, you do for that?”
Sasha’s face falls as she shakes her head. Then she sits up as she glances past the warrior, her expression blank when she stands and walks toward the children.
The Slayer flinches when someone grabs his shoulder. A red eye stares down, the narrow black slit scanning his body. A slow inhale echoes in the space between as the lord comes closer for a second. Then he steps away and looks at Baal with green eyes, lifting a hand as they wave to him. He tells them to keep playing, didn’t want to interrupt. Today the child is much more agreeable, turning back to the twins without a pout, content in the bigger boy’s lap.
“Are you needed?” Davoth asks, brushing something off the Slayer’s sweater.
“I just fed Baal,” looking at the fingers now fixing the collars with care.
The arm retreats and the lord goes over to the rest. A firm hold on John, he speaks, Sasha smiling as she shakes her head. Davoth grins in return, telling them all he was taking the Slayer, and would come back before dinner. Another wave to Baal, he walks away as the woman frowns and the other marine notices. Both speak when the ruler takes his breeder by the hand and has them fall through the floor. A small rattle from the chair landing, the warrior is more shocked by the bright white lights and walls.
The entire room is a harsh change from the dimmer lights of the zoo. The smell of cleaners and filtered air burn worse than a corrosive on his nostrils. A cough from how it burns for a second getting a slow rub on his back. He looks around to see a long silver table covered in metal pieces and coils. Off to one side and above sits cameras that give live feeds of the bits of wiring and computer parts. A few dressed in white suits and helmets look at a screen next to the video, talking amongst themselves. Another speaks through a gas mask as Mort listens with a tapping foot, his frown deepening when he sees the two who arrived. A snap and low voice sends the other away while the old man turns to watch Davoth with a forced smile.
Who simply asks, “How bad?”
Mort lets his face fall and shakes his head. “This team couldn’t save a lot from the fire. The help was too slow and lost most of the information. I will take care of those workers later. Unless you want them…”
“Oh no, they will be fine if this is unsalvageable. You didn’t call in time. The others probably did more than you would think to do.”
“That was the bio-data sensors! Those damn birds activated the self-destruct protocol.”
“At least you are pretending to take the blame for this.”
“Now you listen—” his voice raising until he seems to realize the mistake and steps toward the exit. His volume is much lower and words are way faster when he corrects himself. “The experts promised they saved some because of the multiple storage cards. Enough to get a portion of the message since this was a crude machine with primitive parts.”
“So you failed me,” walking over as his eyes darken.
“Not at all! If you wait a minute…”
“No, I will not—” stopping as one of the white suits approaches, listening as they say the usable data is ready. A file waiting to be played. Davoth nods and excuses them.
Mort tries to speak when a single finger points to the screen and he bows, looking at the slow wave that replaced the video feed. His fingers tapping on the keyboard as he mumbles to himself.
As he types, Davoth turns to the Slayer, the lines on his face softening. Not quite soothed, he relaxes as he squats to gaze at the growing child with much more kindness.
“What is going on?” asks his breeder.
“It seems the AI lacks the same intelligence as its builder and returned to find you. Neither knew to stay away once they fled from their problems.”
“VEGA… It came back?” trying to keep his voice steady as the lord places a hand on his belly.
“Yes. You do not seem surprised.”
“I don’t want to wake…” his words stopping when Davoth squints, and he knows to not finish that sentence. “VEGA said so. Back when Orcus angered it.”
“And you said nothing?”
“Wanted to wait. Wait till I was gone, gone, gone from Hell. Or gave birth. Can’t remember.”
“Did you not tell me because you knew that would not happen? Or because you hoped it would change its mind?”
“No.”
“I see. Do not think so little of yourself just because most do. As much as you expected the AI to forget about you, it should have. But it seems the program was improperly coded. We will have to determine if it was worth the effort.”
A claw taps on the baby belly, a sharp pain growing from the spot as a hand reaches through the skin. The point cuts the fabric, both watching as the fingers keep an orbit around the long nail like a game. This pair travels in a slow circle over the navel, leaving the area exposed for a face to appear as the finger leaves. The sire smiles as he whispers to it, petting the mound for a pulsing ache to travel through the warrior’s intestines. A groan is ignored by the other two when his eyes water. Another noise having the fetus look up while a tear slips out and falls onto the visage, the face not reacting to his distress.
Relief arrives when a beep comes from the computer, Mort turning as Davoth approaches. The push of a button and the calm voice of VEGA again hits the Slayer’s ears. The tone was as collected and confident as he remembered, however, the words are far more frantic when the message plays.
“Hello Slayer, I know you are with a third child. That does not matter anymore. Ignore all previous messages, this will be my final instructions. The helmet is no longer important, it cannot help. Find N—she has information on the weapon. Follow these steps or—Seth is looking for a workaround. Do not underestimate it, there is Maykr—Do not search until—”
The audio cuts, a silence dropping over the room as Davoth turns to face the breeder. His normal eyes return, and his expression twists with anger as he stalks back, shaking the floor with every step.
The Slayer jumps from his chair, falling to the ground. On his hands and knees, he scrambles for the door when the lord closes in. His arms a blur as his body acts automatically.
A sharp pain comes from his ribs. The blow sends him flying into a wall, slamming with a resounding clang when his head hits the metal. A foot to the chest keeps him pinned, a shinned shoe digging in as he gasps for air. His eyes are wide when he looks up with parted lips, fighting to breathe when the toe causes the bones to groan.
Lifting an arm makes this worse. The quivering hand gets grabbed so hard he would have made a sound if he could. Instead, just opening his mouth when something snaps. The pain dulls from the pressure, the flesh paling from such a crushing grip. The breeder can only beg with a pitiful glance as the fingertips point in different directions. Another squeeze for the knuckles to bend as his tendons twitch.
“I am going to give you two seconds to explain why you thought lying was a good idea,” hisses Davoth as his foot stomps down on a knee. A loud crack heard as he listens to the Slayer choke. The man spits as he forces out a lungful of air in a feeble response.
The pain only gets worse when he’s thrown back to the ground, his face smacking on the cold tiles. Laid on his side, the Slayer turns right as the foot comes down on his hip.
“Davoth!” he yells, lifting his good hand. “Stop—”
“Shut up!” he snaps, grabbing the offending wrist to twist so hard the entire arm gets ripped from the socket. “A stupid vessel had the gall to lie to my face and act like this was new. Did you forget about the first message? Did you assume I was overlooking it with the next two? The computer or the two robots? Was I supposed to forget about the recorded audio? Do you think I would pretend and not see what kind of coward you are? I watch my children and their vessel closely for a reason."
“Why?”
“Because I knew you would do nothing. It was so easy when the demons told me. Unwilling are not deaf, and plenty like to spend time around the computers and you. Now, the stupid machine has handed itself over. Hoping you could do this alone… the breeding truly has made you more mindless.”
“I forgot—"
“You act so mighty, but consistently fail. No different to the AI. With you, all I ever had to do was wait. Or have you forgotten what happened when you rebelled against the first two pregnancies? The heirs are a lot harder to touch in the womb, but you always bleed. I think this child is going to enjoy an extra meal…”
“No…”
A punch knocks the Slayer down for Davoth to lay him on his back. The motions rough and fast, he sees the ceiling before red eyes glare down and hands wrap around his neck. It feels as if he could tell when each finger tightens over his airway, his arms crushed under Davoth’s knees as he stares into the lord’s gaze. The white-knuckle grip remains steady as the man fights, kicking and bucking like that mattered. Taking a pitiful look at the uncaring crimson glow, he tries to claw at the floor despite his hand being forced to lie flat. Lips open as dots swim through his vision, the hold squeezing his throat more.
A first spasm has his leg kick at Davoth, striking him in the back. The hit is like slamming into solid stone.
The lord smiles as the breeder’s gut and foot scream with pain. A shake has his entire body buck. Another blow and the man fights the crushing weight on his torso. A last fight dying when he flops down.
The edges of his vision turn black. The darkness now takes over more and more. A final failed breath and his head rolls to the side. Still offered nothing as his eyes shut.
But an agony worse and more all-consuming snaps the Slayer back. An explosion of pain from his leg has him gasping as air fills his lungs. Eyes opening to be hit with the bright lights overhead, he howls when he looks down to see the hurt knee sits at a weird angle off to the side, the shin poking through the skin. A sharp white point breaks through.
The next wave of agony comes when he sees the glint of black leather in the light. His other leg receiving no mercy as he sees his femur shatter. The entire area gives in like it is pure fat as his airway tightens so hard he gags.
Like blood in the water around a sea monster, his sac is alive as the fetus feeds. The same hunger as a starved beast, his agony is a meal for the child. A feast for the little one when he can only lie there, feeling everything. A sob caught in his throat as their father stands over, grinning as his efforts showed fruit. Doing anything he could to prove his love with the breeder’s suffering. A soft chant as the glow of his irises grows, they lift when a circle appears on the ceiling. The lights no longer a blinding white, the Slayer finds it harder to see as the walls become a disorienting crimson. Davoth curls his fingers as his words slow despite his lips moving faster.
Then the spell disappears and a blast of energy washes over the warrior like a wave. As the red covers the man, the fetus calms down, filling him with relief as he pants. The pain gone for a moment.
The Slayer groans when his flesh shifts, the shin bone slipping inside as the muscle pulls it and closes the hole. Skin stitches together as he sees his fingers straighten and his shoulder pops back in; a tingle turning into pure neurological static. His hands ball into fists and his legs bend, sighing as his neck opens and he can breathe again.
Sat up, the man watches as Davoth holds out a hand and says, “Get up, we are leaving.”
“Yeah, Baal—”
“Oh no,” grabbing the breeder by the collar to stand him up. “No, you are not returning. I’m not done with you yet.”
“What?”
“I’ll decide that. Mort, carry my drink. We are going to be busy.”
The Slayer shivers as he watches the other obey, a bottle in his hand as Davoth takes the marine by the arm and pushes him to the ground. Only to land on soft carpet, the COs following behind as he stumbles on his feet. From the harsh white of the lab to a room with less light and more padding.
The black walls are kinder on the eyes under the softer glow. Plain furniture on one side seems meant for lounging, on the other side is an enormous bed. Large windows at the far end have the curtains drawn, a sliver of sunlight coming in from the bottom. The Slayer gets dragged to the sitting area as he sees the older man staring at him. Neither smiling as he hears glass clink. The warmth such a place should have is missing when he sees Davoth sneer, a shiver rushing down his spine.
This is going to end with blood again, isn’t it?
A shove sends the Slayer sprawling on a couch. Davoth sits beside him, ripping off the sweater so the top disappears with a single touch. The finger tracing his chest around the areolas, it next slips between both breasts to hook on the collar.
A look at the dark bottle in the old man’s arm, the lord asks, “How should you apologize? What can you do to prove I should continue helping you?”
The watching homeowner taps the bottle lip, biting his own as he steps forward. “I already have others tracking the origin of the robot.”
“Answer the question!”
The Slayer jumps with Mort as he holds the bottle close to his chest. “Workers in the lab have made progress on the formula. If we harvest more this time, we could move to testing faster. The main scientist promised more improvements if that was done.” A snap has him come closer and add, “We might order the new generator next week. The last one cleared out the company’s supply.”
Silence falls over the room when Davoth leans back, tapping a finger on a couch arm. An unimpressed frown spreading across his face, he says, “Pour a glass and leave. You will get what you need for testing, nothing more. My child comes first.”
Turning from the subordinate, the lord pulls the Slayer closer to hang limp in his hold. The other hand then unzips his pants, the teeth opening just louder than the cup filling with a dark liquid behind him. A slow reveal of his cock is enough to make the breeder shudder as he glances at the wall. A slap snaps his attention to Davoth as he sees furrowed brows and lifts a shaking arm.
“That’s a good breeder…” his sire whispers, leaning back.
The Slayer nods and reaches for the shaft, feeling it twitch in his fist when footsteps retreat. A door closing, he leans on Davoth while he plays with the tip, the hold heading for the base with heavy breaths from both. The lord purring as he releases the collar and takes the drink, he says to do this right and places his freed hand on the back of the Slayer’s skull. A small push all the breeder needs to squeeze the hilt as he slides off and lies on his side. Next sticking out his tongue as Davoth grabs his chest, giving a breast a quick grope.
A moan at the sudden attention, the vessel wraps his lips around the glans. Another, harder grab at the soft flesh and he finds his skull halfway down before he gags. A long sigh from above and he closes his eyes, lifting his face to gasp, licking his mouth before he circles the tip. Like he asked for the collar, he adjusts to let the hand playing with him push their bodies closer. Relaxing his hole while he thinks about something else; his body abandoned as his mind pretends he was once more under the stone’s spell. The delusion grows stronger when the shaft slides down his throat and his brain spins in the same elevating way. His jaws stretched wide open, his head bobs a little faster as the fingers play with a nipple and he shudders.
Pulling off to gasp, he looks up as Davoth’s actual face stares back, smiling as he shows off a wet palm. A slow lick putting on a show for the brood-boar while he averts his gaze. Then moaning when the cleaned hand returns to take a handful of breast and squeeze what doesn’t fit in the fist. A snap orders the Slayer to return while the fingers knead the heavy flesh. The easy source of arousal sends more moans to the lord’s cock as both throb in response. The breeder shoved down the base to be held in place as a sharp buck makes sure he’s deep-throating the entire shaft.
Whispers in the other tongue heard from above, the Slayer once more shuts his eyes. Fingers tangle in his hair and scratch his scalp, not letting go as the lord moves his hips, still pulling and twisting the hard bud between his fingertips. The man can only listen as he grabs Davoth’s thigh to stay steady, holding tight as a painful thrust shoves the head deeper. An eye opens to let a tear roll down his cheeks. More words spoken overhead when his face grinds on silk.
Right before he hears the lord speak a single word he understands. “Coming.”
The Slayer just takes the entire load. There’s no humiliation or embarrassment when Davoth shoots down his throat and into his stomach. The normal expectation fills his mind as his swollen belly expands once more thanks to the fetus’ father, giving the fullness he had wanted before at the table. And what he wished to avoid when his gut swirls.
But he’s not allowed to move. An eye squinting open, he wants to pull off when the hand remains on his head. Still swallowing as the grip on the lord’s leg grows tighter. A finger touching his belly, Davoth sighs as he stops and taps the bump, letting the Slayer tear away with a loud cough and heave. Nothing comes out. The man sits up to let his stomach clench and churn as he wipes his mouth. The sound of sliding fabric warning this wasn’t done yet.
“You’re getting better at this,” Davoth says as he gets up and removes his jacket. “I didn’t even have to encourage you this time. How did you love that? Quieter than with the collar this morning.”
The man does nothing, looking at the floor as the other stands in front. A hand is about to wipe his chest when the lord seizes his wrist and pushes it back.
“Don’t bother, you’ll need this.”
“What?” only peeking at the pleasured cock when it throbs, soon coming to life. “I should lie down…”
“Yes… I know,” a few slow strokes bringing the head close to his breeder’s face as he parts his legs. “Show you want to apologize. I am being nicer than deserved.”
“No, no, no—”
He hears a growl and falls for just a second, the loud poof of a thick mattress as he lands on the blankets. A grunt at the sudden change, Davoth is looming over as both sit in the middle of the bed, a rough push causing the Slayer to stare at the ceiling. Then a weight rests on his ribs, the lord sitting naked on the confused breeder. A slow reach behind and cool air hits the Slayer’s legs and hips, fingertips dancing on the skin inside of his thighs to tease the pair open.
“Not yet,” whispers Davoth, coming back to grab a breast in each hand, fondling both as he brings them together. A few hard squeezes and he presses his cock against the tight space created. “Make me want to give it to you.”
The Slayer nods as the head pushes through, slipping between the mounds with a purr. A low sound that echoes in the chest, reverberating off his bones. The tip coming out the other side, it rests on his throat, tilting his chin up as he hears the other praise his body. Always ready for his sire, every part of him wants to be fit for the lord.
This point gets made clear when the hefty cock moves as it presses on his chest, making the already heavy form miserable. Slow thrusts massage the shaft, seeming to warm the hot length. The slit smearing more excitement as low hums tell the vessel nothing was out of Davoth’s control. Quiet gasps as the used breeder fights to breathe while the large sac makes this worse with every prod and lazy pull on the cleavage. The pain intensifies when the space becomes smaller and his breasts ache, assuring him this was what he deserved. Each knew it was pure luck that this was all he had to endure.
Then both groan when the thick shaft retreats. A disgusting mess is left on the Slayer’s chest as the cock stands over the mounds, the slit again in view as the Slayer stares. The rough hands return to them, pulling the fat and well-padded muscles beneath as he howls. The slit stabs him in the face, throwing clear drops in his eye as he turns away. A laugh at his reaction, Davoth leans back as if to get a better view before shifting his position. He orders the breeder to close his eyes, making the man look up with genuine fear.
What is he doing?
The moment the Slayer opens his mouth to speak, the lord bucks his hips and pulls the breeder’s head forward, shoving the entire girth inside. A growl to do this right, another thrust has both groan as the Slayer fists the sheets. The shaft pokes his throat, forcing him to swallow. A sound of approval from above hits worse than usual when his soft chest gets smeared with crystal drops and salty rivulets; the lord’s cock prying apart the hole while further dirtying the cleavage. His eyes search the room when Davoth gives up on pretending and grasps his vessel’s skull with two hands, lifting off just enough to have him sit on his elbows. Thick glans rub on his chin, smearing more across his face, hinting at what he will do next. The air heavy with the scent of smoke and vanilla, the breeder takes a deep breath and parts his lips.
The first punch to the back of his throat knocks him onto the bed. Any pretense of this being a controlled facefuck is gone the moment he gags and chokes on the head. Davoth doesn’t care about his comfort or consciousness when slamming as far as the man’s jaws allowed at this angle. A few good hits to a tightened larynx causing a loud groan when Davoth pulls out for the Slayer to breathe and bile and spit spill on his chest. More coating the cock when the glans swirl the thick mix in his mouth, the lord whispering how wonderful this is for them.
Right after, shoving the entire shaft inside, groaning as he shoots a smaller load this time. The Slayer’s eyes roll back as he grips the sheets with white knuckles, the nausea returning with more force at the second round of irritants. Again heaving and sobbing when he gets pushed aside. The acid that burns his hole and tongue soothed when he spits up something else, too. The emptied stomach again displeased at the sudden change.
But that hardly matters to the ruler who watches with bright eyes and a smile, an order to stop acting coy after the Slayer’s attitude so far. A breeder should gladly breed, regardless of fatigue. This was what he desires.
As the raspy voice gets closer to the man’s ear, so does the hand toward his leg. The fingers starting at a raised knee, they slide toward the inside of his thigh. And once more, the Slayer's legs open with little thought, seeing how the other arm wraps around his body.
Without warning, forced to rest on his chest. His belly keeps his ass in the air for a hand to cup, a finger slipping in between parted cheeks. A low purr shakes their bodies, and the Slayer shudders, resting on his elbows to peer over a shoulder. Only for his face to be shoved into the bed, a hard slap on the back of a thigh acting as a lesson. A few more coming after for good measure.
“I have a question, Slayer,” whispers Davoth, his body growing heavier as he bends over to lie on top. “How much can you handle? And would you wish to find out?”
“No, no, no, no, no—”
“Oh, you like when it’s only me? Do you love being mine? What an excellent little vessel.”
“Just you,” nodding as the crushing mass increases, the bed moaning at the combined weight.
The smile is thick in Davoth’s tone when he replies, “But that’s how this works… You kept the information hidden. That cannot remain unaddressed. Not from such a selfish coward. I wonder why you had hoped it would return? Do you still want to pretend that thing cared about you beyond its programming?”
“No… demanded something.”
“What was that? Are you going to tell me exactly what happened?” yanking the Slayer’s head to the side. “What would you do for the AI?”
The weight lightens for the man to lie on his back, nodding as a finger traces his arm. “Both pregnancies… it asked for a helmet. Wanted me to find one. Never made sense. Always came when pregnant,” the words spilling out as the hand finds his, linking fingers.
“So, you can tell the truth… Not even trying to hide anymore. Be thankful we don’t require another... fix.”
The Doom Slayer is silent, holding his breath as their linked arms rise, shivering as he sits up.
Davoth now says, “But you know that is not enough. I dislike repeated... mistakes. What would you gain from leaving early?“
The door opens for a hulking demon to bend over and scrape its horns on the door frame, the mostly straight bone creating sparks with the sharp points. The same pale flesh as the creatures from this Mars, the monster towers over both in bed when it straightens, standing like a baron in height and bulk—and girth. Metal forearms and metallic shins clash with the bloodstained hooves and rusted collar. All fighting to draw attention from the long tubes and boxy screen in a metal frame strapped to its head where the jaws should be. Pupilless yellow eyes watch when it bows to the lord, letting him touch the glass that pictures the inside of a human mouth. The lips open as if speaking when he whispers in his other language. A slow lick over the frame causes the device to display more images, his long tongue getting an eye and “!” to replace the lips and teeth. Then he points to the floor, giving an order as he gets off the bed. The bruiser quick to obey, it uses the large yellow cannons that are its forearms and hands to grab the breeder.
The creature's gentleness surprises the Slayer as the claw-shaped barrels lay him on the ground, the entire journey smooth despite an awkward landing. A barrel turns him onto his back, and he wishes he had stayed where he was dropped when the demon squats on the carpet and pants. Unable to avert his gaze when its massive length grinds between his legs, the fat head poking his entrance. The images of a tongue coming out of a wide mouth and a circle being stabbed with a long rod rapidly switch on the screen. A lengthy groan heard from the eager new arrival as the man could only stare, his body tired. The monster cock twitches as the shaft rises and hovers over his belly, his face falling as his shoulders slump.
And despite the lack of hands, it still rolls him over and pins him by the neck. Something bigger than Davoth's fist pressing on his hole. Then a hand grabs his hip. A second prod from a dick he is more used to pushing the soft flesh of his perineum, making his prostate wake up and sing. The space in there already tight thanks to his belly, he groans when his body perks up. His mouth agape when he doesn't question what he is feeling.
Or wonder how a pair of hands finds his chest as two cocks push through at the same time. A grunt morphs into a loud groan as his mind swirls from the pressure on the gland. A sound that isn't human or subdued comes after as both threaten to rip his hole open until he bleeds. His mouth wide open, his eyes roll back when the hellish pair makes his dick spring to life, and he forces himself to swallow a sob. A bite on the inside of a cheek is not enough to mute the howl at just the heads being inside. He claws at the ground while fingers find their way to his nipples.
The Slayer's senses go into overdrive from the simple contact, and he yells pure nonsense. A pull on the hard buds acts as a painful warning before the girths finally move. And all he can do is scream. The trapped breeder is unable to stop his eyes from watering when his tormentors are hilt deep. The image of Davoth blurs when they retreat, blunt nails ripping into the carpet. Real tears stream down his face once they return as one. The blow is worse than when the lord wanted to take out some frustration, and his entire body shudders from the force. A ripple of pure energy goes up his spine as he cannot even scream. The stretch of his tunnel was something that felt long forgotten. The Slayer lets out a primal scream. Davoth silences him with a hard thrust, whispers to the demon heard as the pair grind their cocks into the vessel's walls. A slap on the ass to make sure he didn't forget this was what he deserved. A second loud smack has both users purring when the hole clenches from the pain. More grinding only making the lesson sting.
“Oh, are we liking the bruiser?” asks Davoth, spreading his vessel's ass. "Even you can understand the name when focused on duties.”
“This is…”
“Yes, I find it fitting.”
“Please…”
“You're right, you should see for yourself,” switching to his other tongue to snap out an order. Then he releases the Slayer as the man freezes, cold metal touching his sides.
His ribs are further crushed by the stronger beings, and the breeder shudders as the cold glass of the television presses on his nape. Like the demon wanted to hold on, it instead puts more weight on top. A low hum coming from the screen, he isn't sure who purrs when he whispers, “Davoth—”
“Oh, I enjoyed that tone.”
“Davothhhhhhhhh!” his attempt at a plea cut off when the users give a shared thrust.
The shafts rip him open, and he screams. A loud throat-tearing howl of pain shakes the three as his guts somehow do not get torn like his entrance. The massive cock of the bruiser shoves his intestines into his lungs, while his spine arches from the wave of lightning shaking his limbs. His body clenches as the two sides hiss, hot air burning his face. His eyes watering as he's told that's how he should always be acting.
Tears once more wet his cheeks as he fights to breathe, his mouth hanging open when a fist grips the back of his neck and shoves it into Davoth's chest. More tears falling onto the tattooed neck when they stop waiting for him. His hands grab at any skin that his nails dig into. The Slayer huffs as both grunt in his ear, his agony going from a throbbing pain to fiery torture. Everything from the chest down is now on fire. Every inch of him shuddering, he stops trying to kick after his legs quit working. His spine feeling more akin to a snapped branch as the cocks deep inside shift each organ. His stomach is where his womb should be, and the fetus tries to use his lungs as a pillow. A sob is swallowed by the glowing orb pressing on his larynx as the Slayer stares at nothing, the tan symbols of Davoth's tattoos blurring into a single wall of color. And when the lord grabs his thigh in a crushing grip, he wraps his arms around the lord's neck and fists some locks, biting his lip to not yell in the lord's ear. The taste of blood fills his mouth when the demon shifts and groans. The metallic taste thick on his tongue.
And a single rough buck from the bruiser sends a river of red down his chin. The smell hitting the users' noses, Davoth inhales as he licks what hits his shoulder and neck. The same hunger then seems to intoxicate his entire body as he grabs a hip. All howl when they speed up; the Slayer fully mute when he tears even more. The sharp pains are like his labors in the rack. The flesh unable to hold when his throat closes. A bone-penetrating injury burning his entire pelvis like an inferno.
And then the Slayer bites down.
A pleased hiss and an enthusiastic thrust have him sink his teeth in. Strong hands and a crushing weight let the two pull the breeder in deeper from both sides. The inhumane love bite becomes harsher, but the ruler still makes him shudder as a grunt has the sacs slap his ass and stop. His already ruined insides are not given a chance to brace before his hole is flooded with hot come. A sharp pain explodes all the way up to his chest when the molten seed hits his torn rim. The Slayer fights to not thrash as he holds on tight; a long whine slipping out when he swears it cauterizes the wounds. A harsh pinch on his thigh warns him to stay like this, the sire sinking dull claws into the soft flesh. Another pinch breaking skin, a gruff voice praises him for acting natural. The vessel was too far along to be fighting.
The praised man sobs as his body feels as if it is burning alive. After this long, not even when the pair pull out a little does he get relief. The bloody tear throbs as bad as his cock. The hand that before held him down removes his jaws with zero effort. The two royals panting together, one shows a satisfied smirk while the other wants to collapse. This mess of blood and spit a morbid new addition to the tattoos, Davoth doesn't show any other signs of what the Slayer had done. No bite marks or bruising, he sighs while the bruiser rests its face on the breeder's back.
But like with all breedings, neither wait for him to recover. Knowing how this would go, the punished vessel shuts his eyes when the demon shifts. His lips shut tight when the sire kneads his ass. The two users yank their cocks from the ruined hole as he groans and tastes fresh tears.
The second they are out, the Slayer is pushed aside to have the entire mess spill out. His body is still shaking after the carpet is soaked in pink, but his ass cannot close. Like the rim had reached its pinnacle, the muscle refuses to return to anything less as the vessel splays his legs and lets the users stare. After a few words between the two standing over, the bruiser squats to force him to perform his last duty and clean the head. Davoth lifts him by the nape, the vessel pushed against the bed to do this right.
The demon is the nicer of the two as he just has to clean the tip. A familiar taste eases the slit over his tongue. No thought to it. The man could do this in his sleep.
The lord, however, is not in the mood to wait for the Slayer to catch his breath after. Davoth shoves the softening cock inside and tells him to get started. The head at the back when he grinds his length over the tongue, a whisper to be thorough and clean all of it. A messy job leaves the cock soaked in spit when he drops his breeder on the floor. A low moan from the ground telling the ruler everything he needs to know about this lesson.
Davoth glares, but again picks up the weakened Slayer. Not being gentle about the whole thing, he is kind enough to dump the breeder on the bed this time. A finger pressed on the stone when he asks, “Why do you always do this after punishment?”
The Slayer closes his eyes as his muscles tense, pain washing over his body as it heals. A grunt is all he can manage when his muscles relax, and an ache takes what little energy he has. But after a minute, the lessening aches drain like a pool out of his spine. A moment of numbness when no sensation remains. A space open for some life to return, and his eyes open to stare at the ceiling. The mattress feels more like a place he can escape soon; understanding he cannot just yet when the hand caresses his hip.
The ruler frowns and turns to the demon, having it wait by the door while the lord dresses the Slayer, putting him in an identical outfit. Sat up, the warrior sees Davoth using his David form, the same disarming smile appearing when he lifts the corners of his lips.
“I will be speaking with Olivia about this AI development. She worked with it and Hayden. Show some intelligence and answer honestly if questioned.”
The Slayer lets a hand help him to his feet, frowning as he says the only thing that matters. His voice breaking when he answers, “Yes.”
“Well,” chuckles Davoth, cupping the man's chin. “I hope you realize this is an important reminder, breeder. You need to see this is all you have left. That AI only wanted you for what it could fulfill. Hayden and that program only cared about you to get what they wanted.”
“Yeah,” putting more power in the tone, the words carrying meaning. “It never helped.”
“Remember, Slayer, who helped you defeat such great enemies. And who can ensure more victories for a powerful warrior... I can give you what you need. Serve your purpose. I want you to care about the future. I will deal with what the past has destroyed. I will remake Hell for all. Then we will both see paradise… Jekkad will return.”
The Slayer doesn't have a chance to agree when the other pulls him in for a slow kiss, hugging the man with a gentle embrace. Nothing too overwhelming, they seem to melt as the ruler makes his breeder's head spin. A hand slides to the small of his back as his own grips a sleeve of the silk jacket.
Then Davoth turns away, a grin on his face as the bruiser perks up. The door open, the royals hear a series of screams and one excited squeal. Two adults shout at an excited heir as they yell for their Daddy, who doesn't let the Slayer go as he allows the bruiser to exit first.
Back in the hall, he is finally freed for Davoth to take Baal in his arms. Both chattering about their days, the child asks about the demon as their papa slips away, standing off to the side. The sound of the lord's cheerful voice meant the punishment was over. The less heavy footfall of John's boots letting the man look elsewhere.
“You wanna leave?” the corporal asks, squeezing a shoulder. “I can skip dinner if you need to rest. The food probably ain't worth the wait.”
“No. Not, not, not...” forgetting what he was about to say. “Just go.”
“Hey, tell me what happened!” lowering his voice as he scans the other marine.
“Nothing new. Messed up… won't be a problem. Anymore.”
“I see…” his face blank when he glances at Davoth, who shows Baal the bruiser, the screen showing a cartoon face to the laughing children. “Was it the demon too?”
“John.”
“I will deal with the monsters later,” his answer curt, both knowing he will disappear for a few hours.
Maybe if the Slayer…
The smaller man cuts off the thought when he says a little louder, “I think you should sit down. You seem tired.”
“Yeah…”
“Hey, come on. I am not hearing any excuses. Let's go,” grabbing a sleeve as he doesn't bother excusing them.
A look at Davoth is enough as the lord smirks, yelling to not miss dinner, will appreciate it after. John lowers his eyelids, just saying he will stay as long as he needs, and turns to lead the Slayer down the hall.
The warrior just stares as no one bothers to follow, even when Baal asks Davoth where they are going. Hearing him tell the child that the toy wanted to take care of the Slayer. The breeder was tired from them testing out the bruiser before Baal got to play with it.
The answer makes John take the Slayer's hand, guiding him around a corner. And out of sight as the pulled marine covers his mouth and shudders.
This is a good way to get over that last round with the bruiser. His ass was healed, and the man acts worked up. The warrior had a chance as the hold loosens, and he's told the other preferred a space more out of the way, far from where most might find them. Could rest for a while in peace.
The Slayer smiles as he agrees and grasps the other's hand tighter, the owner turning to stare over a shoulder. A sly look having John raise a brow and turn another corner, slipping inside an empty room. A bed similar to the one before, the corporal sits the Slayer down on the edge of the mattress. He sighs when John helps take off the sweater, the thick fabric trying to stick to his skin. However, the warrior is quiet when thoughtful green eyes notice the remaining white top.
“That fucker really likes making things easy,” mutters John, now taking off the shoes. “Not blaming him on the top…”
"It is nice,” the Slayer smiling as he adjusts a strap.
“Yeah, can tell.”
“Can come off again. Don't mind.”
“I wasn't asking...”
“Yeah?” he laughs, laying back after he slides further onto the mattress.
“Fuck me sideways with a pistol... Slayer, if you were in any other situation, you would be pregnant again. You'd give birth and have to ask the doctor if you could come in for delivery and vaccines at the next visit.”
“John, what does that mean?” his face back to a more natural expression as he sits up.
“Exactly what I said. Stop doing that. You can barely walk ten feet, quit acting like a damn wild boar in a sow pen. Calm down and lie down.”
“Sorry...” on his back to stare at the ceiling and rub his belly while the other man stares. “I like a distraction.”
“Slayer, I'm being very serious. Spent a long time seeing a lot of shit. Guess it paid off, but... Just stop pushing yourself. This is not healthy in your state."
"What does that mean...?" turning to face the toy. "You need to explain."
The corporal's voice lowers and he glances around. "I never really talk about it, but I suppose it can't hurt. I think that's why I'm really here. Not sure why else. Stopped when I graduated from college, and never had a reason to bring it up after I joined the Marines. My—"
A soft click has both turn their heads, looking at the wall behind them.
John flashes a snarl as he perks his ears, both hearing a soft tap from above. Standing up, the other marine scans the area. A yell as he then runs across the room, in a full sprint for the doorway while pulling out his gun. A pop and he collapses without a sound. A dull thud where the marine falls, motionless.
A click draws the Slayer to a small doorway in the wall by the exit, a narrow barrel poking out below the ceiling before it retreats and the door opens. A familiar face pokes out, scanning the room before she jumps to the ground. Her face almost identical to Sasha, her hair hangs loose around her neck and her dark eyes lack the other's spark. The comfortable shoes replaced with boots, she lands quietly on the ground as she slings the gun over a shoulder. Her footfalls silent when she hurries across the carpet.
Stopping by a downed John, she kicks his body to flip it over. The woman then removes a dart and puts it in her pocket as she stands, pushing his body away with a foot. Facing the Slayer, she asks, “Did he hurt you?” Her voice is close to the nanny's, but something is off. The tone is rougher, a stark lack of joy that the original used when caring for others.
“Sasha…?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
“That doesn't matter, does it? You hurt?”
“What do you want?”
“I don't like people who take advantage of the vulnerable. Sorry, can't kill him, but maybe next time.”
“Why? He was helping.”
“No need to spin a tale. Stay safe.”
Then she runs to the window facing the bed, a jump shattering the glass with her boots. The stranger dives through the ragged hole, diving onto the property as shouts and gunfire ring out.
The Slayer is on his feet faster than when in the lab. A sudden burst of energy has him hurry toward the window to see birds burst from a tiny forest just across the grass, iridescent feathers and large fans showing progress of the chase. A roar and a bellow are followed by the bay of hounds, the earth trembling as Davoth yells to the entire property. Flames shoot from the treetops, several portals opening across the property when the warrior steps back.
The door slams open, and the Slayer whips around. The doorway sparking as the heavy metal entrance lies on the floor, he sees the lord walk over and push the warrior down. A sound of shock as he braces to hit the ground, he instead lands back in his room. The thick mattress and dull gray walls having him gaze up to see another body fall through the red doorway. Another dull thump; John is dumped at his feet, in a heap on the bed. Davoth looking at the conscious man from the ceiling, he gives an order to watch the baby, Kelly will be there soon. The portal closing, a new one appears for Baal to roll out, who blinks as they sit in their vessel's lap. Neither talking, they both glance at the prone corporal as the door opens, the Sergeant arriving to help.
The child is soon in Kelly's lap as the Slayer hears them talk. The chattering pair sit at arm's length while he gets up to pull out his normal clothes. Asking as he unfolds everything, “Can I ask?”
The other man glances at him with a frown. “A new attack. Went after you and Baal at the same time.”
“Was fine. Got John instead.”
“Hmm, must be mad we killed their friends.”
“The same?” grabbing a jumpsuit.
“Maybe. Shame I can't find out…” patting the heir's head as they whine and bury their face into his shirt. “I like a good hunt. Especially if it's for this little one. I would love to for any heir,” coaxing the child's face out of his chest.
The Slayer falls quiet, quick to change back into the orange suit and flop next to the other two marines. Again, looking at the ceiling, he feels his stomach swirl as a tiny hand moves below his ribs. The small fingers reach for his chest as he ignores the unease at the image. Such horrors wanting to drag him into a horrible spiral. His chest beats harder as he tries to shush the fetus with a calming touch. The little brat was trying to be a glutton today...
The Slayer jumps when Kelly yanks on his sleeve. A confused stare at the Sergeant right before he slaps the Slayer across the face and scolds him—warning he can still do tasks on his knees. The man pulls away to growl his displeasure, but it lacks the teeth to make the superior back down. A second strike telling him to take it when stuck with a less forgiving guard. Kelly was used to dealing with bigger animals, so the breeder lays his head on the pillow. A touch on his hip assuring he kept making mistakes.
Kelly distracts a worried Baal while the hand travels lower. An assurance that they have nothing to fret over going well with the fingers caressing their brood-stallion's cock. A thumb pushes on the soft spot behind it as the Slayer bites his lip. Neither acts out of place, the two men pretending that the Sergeant behaves as he speaks to the child. The adults smiling for different reasons when the Slayer pretends his body doesn't crave more.
What was wrong with him and when did he start liking this?
The twitch in his underwear proves it doesn't matter, he wanted this. A huff disguised with a cough, he bites his tongue, inviting another touch to his taint as his legs open. A light slap telling him to calm down, the hand retreats.
Without protest, the Slayer rolls over, staring at the wall as he sinks into a deep corner of his mind. The little hideaway dark and warm, it feels better than the exposed bed. Less fog than when often like this, his body relaxes. A long sigh helps each muscle unwind, not moving until Davoth returns for his heir. This time, the lord leaves his vessel alone, not even teasing the Slayer. No kisses offered when he bids farewell to the Sergeant.
Kelly sounds a lot less disgusted when the two are alone today. The fingers are steady and better at finding the right parts while he lies on his back, peering over his belly at the superior. The older man doesn't even look at him as he unzips his pants and presses on the taint. A low voice orders the breeder to remove the top half of his jumpsuit, slow touches massaging the perineum with more pressure when he complies. A final push to make his prostate react, the arm retreats and he's pulled off the bed. A flash of the lights overhead, he is on his knees, a rock-hard erection filling his vision. A push on the stone when the shaft shoves down his throat.
The collar is appreciated this time as the brood-stallion kneels on the floor, letting a mess of spit and excitement dribble down his chest. A laugh at how he moans over the taste of an aroused cock, the Slayer is much happier when he's cut off with a hard thrust.
The superior grunts as he fucks the tight hole, more of the mess dripping onto the unbuckled belt. A last thrust ending with a long moan, nothing left unswallowed when the tongue laps up every rope. A shared groan bounces off the walls as the Slayer shudders, his mind utterly blank after getting shaken around. His brain is completely useless when the cock pulls out for the load to ooze out on his belly and tits. A fist grabbing the accessory as the other again focuses on the bed.
The breeder's arms are shaking when he's bent over a familiar pair of legs, his toy still unmoving. The corporal not resisting when his belt unbuckles. Or when his zipper opens as the Slayer is told to stay in this position, the pants around John's ankles. A sound of confusion from the conscious marine, his next command is to not move, face shoved in the pooled fabric.
A pair of hands now grab the Slayer's sides, the dirty vessel panting in sync with his user. A dumb grin on his lips, he truly forgets all about his punishment and the attack when he spills on the floor. The jumpsuit is still tied around his ankles as he laughs after finally getting what he wants. His ass more willing to close after this round when the other leaves without fixing a thing, the lust keeping his cock harder than a diamond. The brood-boar left a mess to be found as come leaks down his thighs and the bed shakes with shouts of pure rage.
Notes:
Everyone get excited, the new baby reveal is coming next chapter. Their cuteness would make a loving god weep, but this is the wrong franchise to expect such deities! There is only the Dark Lord and his vengeful fury, his love lacking for all but his offspring. May the screams of the damned with gnashing teeth and venomous tongues suffice, for he has long ago forgotten the kindness for any but his own.
(✿◠‿◠)(/▽\)And yes, humans can have two pregnancies gestating (superfetation) at the same time. Unlike most twins or from a weird condition/mutation, the person can just have two placentas share space in the uterus—day, weeks, or sometimes with months**—between the pregnancies' conceptions. After giving birth, the children might be considered twins, or a doctor might just find another, smaller one still growing.*
*I am not at all thinking about something here, I swear… (I am a liar)
**I found out from a video with the successful birth of one baby, where the doctors then found a still gestating fetus that was 4 months along.
Chapter 17: Where Are You? I Need You!
Summary:
It is time for the third child to be born, and the first heir to be born on Earth. If only the father was there to see it. At least someone is there who won't freak out—if he can get over the child announcing their arrival.
Notes:
This has been sitting on my computer for too long, so I'm putting this out before I tinker with it. (ㆆ_ㆆ)
OB = Obstetrician - A physician who specializes in childbirth.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
A loud groan fills the halls as the Slayer stops in the middle of the corridor. A hand flat on the wall, he bends forward and sucks in air like he had chased an entire swarm of rowdy royals. Spine arched and sides heaving from such a short walk, the ten feet he had managed was already too much.
The struggle makes John stop and turn, looking at the exhausted warrior with brows raised in worry. But if he wants to say something, he doesn’t. Not after how many times this has happened on the brief stroll. Used to the process, he stays at arm’s length and sighs, waiting for the vessel to recover so they can continue.
The Slayer could complain about how tired he felt, but he knows he shouldn’t. Not when this was his idea. And he had ignored all arguments as to why he should have stayed in bed. No, he was sick of doing nothing and knew he must exercise a little. But oh fuck, did this seem like a huge mistake. They had gotten down the hall and around the corner, and he was ready to give up right there. Granted, it was a long hallway, but this was not worth the effort he put into it.
With a grunt, the man remains close to the wall, using it to help move. John shaking his head as he watches but stands nearby. His occasional step forward more than enough to remain at the warrior’s side as he raises a hand—just in case, of course.
“You know,” John says as they watch an unfamiliar marine approach, “we can always turn left and loop around. Seems like we should keep this one short. You are about ready to burst, so it may be time to go easy. Or at least easier…”
“I’m fine,” frowning as he turns away. The suggestion being said aggravates him more than his current state. His reply repeated as he growls and walks at a faster pace. Then stops as he needs to rest again.
“I am just saying.”
“No. I am fine.”
“Okay, okay. But if you take a break one more time, I'm getting a wheelchair.”
The Slayer lets out a sound but refuses to decline the offer this round. Saying nothing as he nods, acknowledging the suggestion to make the other stop telling him to give up.
“Hey, should I call someone?” comes a voice from the other side of the corridor. The words muffled by a helmet, the two men glance at the hidden face of the new marine.
“No, it’s alright,” says John, turning to deal with the slightly taller stranger. “He gets tired sometimes.”
“Good."
The stranger shifts to look at the Slayer as he flexes larger muscles than the corporal. The display feels less intimating and more an actual demonstration, his arms crossing as if to make himself look even bigger. His legs parted a little when the warrior turns to read a screen marking a medical lab. An unease nagging the Slayer, he lets John copy the other's stance as the two men stare each other down.
But the posturing does little, the unidentified marine saying, “David promised he wouldn’t fall asleep on me. You didn't tire him out, did ya?”
A pang hits the Slayer's gut, his back pressed to the wall. The one showing interest in him closing in.
John steps forward, now at arm’s length from the stranger. “What did you say? What are you talking about?”
“Listen, I know who you are, so just help me move him to a bed. Not in the mood to wait after today.”
“If you knew who I was, you would have kept your lips shut and walked out of here. Are you really sure you have a goddamn clue?”
“Yeah, you are that corporal sent to work with civilians. The fucker that beat the shit out of a commanding officer. Learned from the other guys you are on your back and knees a lot more these days. Seems fitting for someone like you.”
“I’d watch your mouth! I will not repeat myself!”
“Shut up and do what I said, civilian. Or should I earn an extra blowjob from you after I’m finished with the breeder?"
"There is nothing you should be doing to him."
"Heard he got something done to his hole that is better than most fleshlights you can buy. No reason to not try it out. I earned it.”
“Excuse you?” balling both fists when he steps forward. “Are you asking for someone to find your body in a dumpster? I'd watch your next words.”
“John!” snaps the Slayer, grabbing a shoulder as a strong chest pang warns him to move. Only to lose his grip as the man pulls away and takes another step. “John, no! If Davoth says he could, I can’t—”
“Don’t say a damn word. This ain’t the bastard, so I can teach the fucker a lesson.”
“He has armor. Do not. Davoth will kill you.”
“Like that has ever stopped me before.”
“Do not.”
“Wow,” chuckles the stranger, “you’re easier to rile up than the walking incubator.”
“What the hell did you just say?” bellows John, squaring his shoulder. Fist raised when getting into a fighting stance. “Say that again!”
“Everyone knows the pervert lets anybody fuck a hole. Even a random street prostitute takes more to get on their knees. No wonder you like the guy. Does he suck cock on command, or does he do that on his own?”
“I will give you two seconds to back off or else. Will not repeat myself.”
“Or else what? I kick your ass, and you slink away for a pity blowjob? Think you’ll finish nursing your wounds by the time I’m done?”
“Nah, but I should love kicking yours before ending up in a medical bay. I’ll make sure to get one of those nice intensive care beds.”
“Yeah, okay, I would like to see—”
The clang of metal-on-metal interrupts the spat as John fulfills his promise with a punch to the helmeted marine’s head. With a blow hard enough to send the guy backward, the corporal doesn’t wait to rain blows on the unprotected limbs as he yells what he would do to this opponent.
The Slayer is forced to watch as the assaulted marine swings back and knocks John to the ground to jump on top. A yell to stay down ignored when the other stops a strike with his hand. Both roll down the hall with a chorus of grunts and growls as the warrior gawks. A few good hits having the unarmored fighter spitting blood on the instigator’s face. A cacophony of strikes and curses getting louder when John bashes the armor with his boots and elbows.
How hard was it for this man to not start a fight?
This question is answered with an unmistakable “Very difficult” when the stranger knees him in the stomach, and he acts like that was nothing. Now pulling out a gun to shoot at the armor in several spots around the chest with precision. In seconds, rushing to hit a spot on the back for the pieces to fall off.
Then kicks his boot into the exposed torso. A grunt and the other man is on the floor for him to pounce as the Slayer sinks to the ground. The sound of flesh hitting flesh is met with yells from both as they roll down the hall.
In no time, the corporal grabs the other by the shirt and chucks him through a damaged door. Shouts from the doctors inside are answered with breaking glass, and they reply with screams. The whir of a machine does not end the fight until a medic rushes out, and a window shatters. The dull thud of a body has him see the still helmeted marine in a heap on the floor as his opponent steps out. John using a battered hand to rub his bleeding face, multiple wounds paint his head and neck a dark crimson. His knuckles in a similar state, he pretends there is not an unconscious man nearby as he walks back to the abandoned warrior.
“What the fuck was that?” the Slayer snaps as he struggles to his feet. “What did I say before? You cannot do that! That kind of shit here!”
“Yeah, you’re welcome.”
“Oh no, cut the shit. I never asked—”
“I don’t care. Was going to teach him a lesson, and I did.”
“Who cares?”
“Me. Honor is at stake, and I wanted to see if I could still fight. You needed to be defended, and I had to win.”
“That is not your fight… to fight at all.”
“The bastard wanted you, Slayer. You aren’t obliged to take that kind of abuse. Not if you keep me around. Got that?”
“Cannot do that. Can’t refuse. Neither of us.”
“No, that is not how this works when you are heavily pregnant and might give birth any day. You could be ripe soon, never assume,” hacking up dark red spit onto the ground. "I don't know if you work—"
“Doesn’t matter, John. If they are given—“
“I will not repeat myself. Know more than enough about this to say you are not in any shape to do that kind of activity. Not when you are so exhausted. So I can and should do all in my power to keep you safe and calm. Remember what Davoth said. If you're healthy, you are a lot happier.” Now letting out a loud sigh before saying, “Listen to the father and trust my advice on this. I am doing this for your benefit. Not like you could refuse at this point.”
“Yeah…” turning away as the burning gaze aimed at him proves the corporal was dead serious. This was not a mere warning, and there was nothing that would change John’s mind. Only saying, “Just want to lie down. Tired.”
This has the injured marine hurry over and take his hand. Not caring when he gets blood on the orange jumpsuit as he says, “Yeah, come on. I told you we should keep it short.”
“Yes…” smiling as he pretends to lean on the corporal while they turn around and head for their room. A few nurses run past as they walk faster. Asking as a couple more pass, “So about the armor?”
“All armor has weak areas, and this type is the easiest for me to find. There are a few spots pressure-activated for maintenance. I figured out a while ago how to hit the tiny points to activate the repair mode. Makes the thing slide right off with a blow to the back.”
“Aren’t you clever?”
“I ain’t some idiot with a gun. No matter what some people say.”
“Would never…” flashing a grin for the man.
John doing the same. Until the Slayer gasps and squeezes the smaller man’s shoulder. The crushing grip has both grit their teeth when the warrior bends forward and holds his stomach, a sharp pain exploding from his belly. A deep groan slips out when it pulses, hitting his nerves over and over. His legs fighting to not shake while the sac stretches, and it feels like he is getting punched and kicked by several marauders. The fetus almost spinning in the womb as he falls to the floor in a heap.
Oh shit…
“Slayer, you okay?” asks John, squatting to check on the downed marine. A look at the man’s pained expression was enough for him to unzip the jumpsuit. Then reel back when the hand pushes out, showing the child’s first attempt to escape its home. A few good variations of “What the fuck!” echoing in the hall.
But when he can speak again, he mutters, “I am calling an OB right now.”
“No!” the Slayer snaps. “It’s fine. Just bring me to our bed. Will lie down. Wait for Davoth to come.”
“How is that better?”
“I can’t…”
“I know that Doctor Green—”
“Please…”
The corporal sighs but nods, rising off the floor to lift the warrior to his feet. With some effort, getting the breeder into a standing position to carry down the hall. Heavy breathing from both, the Slayer tries to go faster than a lethargic walk as his body demands to sit down. His brain screams to speed up as he scans the space for any watching eyes. The last delivery flashing in his mind.
No, not yet… This is just—
Another burst of pain has him back on the ground. John almost yells as he gets dragged down too. Though the smaller man manages to roll out of the way, staring at the downed breeder with wide eyes and an outstretched hand. The Slayer shakes as he holds his stomach, breathing harder.
No, not here… Please…
“I am calling someone!” declares John, standing to dig around in a pocket.
“Fine,” growls the Slayer, gritting his teeth when it seems like his intestines are on fire. “Get me somewhere. Not here. Can’t stay in the hall.”
“Yeah, there’s a bay right here,” pointing to a set of doors behind him. “Can you manage that?”
“Yes…” hissing when he feels a powerful kick on his spine. The little brat was not in the mood to wait.
“This feeding is worse than usual, huh?” pulling the Slayer to his feet. “Want me to massage your belly or something?” laughing when the asked man frowns. “Sorry… Just wondering what to do.”
“Don’t think they're hungry…” grunting as he stumbles and grabs the open doorway. On shaky legs, he’s rushed to the nearest bed and sat down to rub the small hand trying to punch through.
“Well, let me get a doctor, okay? rushing to grab a pillow from a closet. “They should check and confirm stuff. Alright?”
The Slayer groans and points to the face twisting under his skin. “Please don’t pretend. I can tell what’s happening.”
“And we still require help. Been way too long since I helped with a delivery. I’ll grab you some water, though. And ice… What else?” the man whispers in a rushed tone, pulling out his phone to tap the screen and put it to his ear. Pacing by the door as he tells someone there is an emergency and stares at the child. The gaze grows more intense when the fetus discovers it will need to be pushed out and disappears. His eyes shifting to the groaning marine when he hangs up and walks back over to touch an arm. Now saying, “Hey, the OB should be coming with some nurses. Had to call them out of an appointment, so it should be a minute. Just stay calm, okay?”
“I’m fine. You know anything?”
“Been way too long. Haven’t done any midwifery since college. Most people felt comfortable going to a doctor once I graduated.”
“What?”
“Bit rusty, so, uh, we should wait for your water to break and see what the doctor says. Fuck, who should I call about this? Shit, this is worse than Dell's nineteenth birthday party.”
“Will you explain?” glaring on the panicking man to not focus on a cramp that causes a full body flinch. “Any of that? John.”
“I paid attention growing up working in my family's clinic," taking a deep breath as he helps the Slayer lie down on a pillow. "Never did the prenatal though. Most people I helped by then didn’t plan on having a baby.”
“That answers— Fuck!” an especially acute pain having him sit up as a hot liquid gushes out onto the floor. The red pool quick to soak everything when John yells and jumps back.
More voices join in on the screaming, a group of white jackets and masks rushing forward to grab him and ask what is going on. Several grabbing tools as more amniotic fluid pours and puddles on the ground.
“Sir, what is going on?” a doctor asks John, the woman looking at the mess. “Tell me what happened to you. Do we need an emergency team?” her words hurried and hands touching his wounds.
“We’re fine,” the Slayer shouts, glaring at the rapid influx of people. “My water broke!”
“Are you sure?” she demands as she faces the breeder, pulling out a device to swipe over his torso. “Blood pressure good… Nothing high. Breathing slower. No sudden loss of balance or trauma occurred recently?”
“No.”
“Perfect,” looking at his stomach as nurses grab scissors, cutting off the jumpsuit as others clean up the mess on the ground. “So, it would seem we need to wait for a moment. We must do a quick checkup, but we will get prepared while I ask questions. Now, let’s start.”
“Yeah,” naked under her gaze when his clothes get bagged for disposal. A reassuring touch from John helps him relax when the doctor goes over his records, asking a few questions about the previous births as a screen turns on off to the side. Another medic types when he answers, the doctor noting some numbers. A few odd comments to the others have the team hurry around the room when he ignores cramps, rubbing his belly to sense the child shift.
But then the pain grows worse and he hisses, a body clenching contraction enough to grab the staff’s attention. A few step closer as the doctor asks, “How are you feeling?” reaching out to accept a new device and hover it over his abdomen. “Ah, so that is what he did… Sir, you need to turn over. Get into birthing position and breathe, okay? Could you do that for me?”
“What about the rack?”
“Too late to send a request. Just tell me what you can do and focus on pushing.”
“Yeah…” sitting up with some struggle. Help from the others has him roll over and rest on his hands and knees, the effort puts him on display under the bright lights of the room. More so when a few ask questions in hushed tones, and all he thinks about is the demons that once watched him labor in Hell.
However, once the next contraction backhands his brain, he knows to stop thinking and push. The soft tap of shoes on the hard floor means nothing as the doctor walks to the head and holds up the first device, calling out numbers with every grunt. A touch on his stomach making the breeder gasp as he freezes, waiting for more hands to join in.
But all he hears is more numbers and comments about the sac. A stare at the one in front having her glance back with dark eyes. Then she grabs his wrist and looks at the screen, telling the rest his pulse increased. A weak pull has her squint and snap, advising him to not try anything. He would not run away. The Slayer groans and she nods, saying he couldn’t go far as she motions for a patched-up John to come take her place. Would keep track of his vitals as she got the speculum ring. A knowing expression for the Slayer is enough of a warning to understand what comes next.
And if he wasn’t already a thing to gawk at, the familiar ring shoved inside him was too much. A low moan with an especially hard contraction has him almost collapse when the metal piece keeps him vulnerable. His body more open and ready to do whatever they wanted with it. And he was too weak to stop them. A look at John as the other marine reaches for his face. He wants to sob when it fucking hurts. This is never easy for the breeder, and such a position with this man seems wrong.
This is not how he expected to do this. He was meant to be with Davoth, in a dark room. These heirs are not supposed to be born here... They need Hell’s air to fill their lungs. Their father there to keep him from fainting… not humans that treat him like a creature to observe. Everything about this is wrong.
A harsh jolt makes him buckle. So close to collapsing when he braces and lets both arms bend a little. Labored breathing having his side heave as sweat drips down his face and a gentle hand lifts his chest. A calm gaze from John when he promises the Slayer is doing a good job, must keep pushing. But the brood-boar shakes his head, gripping the sides of the bed when he wants to grab the smaller man and lay down. The rack not an obstacle with this delivery, he wishes he could escape.
But the child is not interested and forces his body to contract, again crawling closer to freedom. And pulling him deeper into the fog that creeps at the corners of his mind. A slow blink keeps him conscious for now. Shoulders shaking as he sinks to just above the pillow collecting his sweat and drool.
“Doctor Ro…” shouts John, reaching for the Slayer’s face to hold. Then when he blinks. “We are losing him right now! His pulse dropped.”
The doctor rushes back and looks at a device, telling the rest to grab towels. Saying to John, “Go get the gift from his items. The bottle with the clear liquid. Do not taste it. You will go into cardiac arrest if you drink it. And no, we won’t revive you if you send out an alert. The child takes priority.”
Both men look at her blank expression when a contraction has the Slayer sway. Doctor Ro yells at the corporal to move faster when he sprints down the hall. With a loud grunt, she lifts the breeder into the birthing position and tells another to check on the fetus’ progress. Hands spread his thighs, and he sobs and tries closing them again. A snap to behave only makes him try harder.
With a palm on his back, a different voice orders him to either keep pushing or they will get the spreader bar. The threat is enough to have him stop resisting when someone says how much farther they had before crowning.
All the Slayer can be thankful for at this point is when John returns with the strange clear fluid and hands it to Doctor Ro. The lid popped off, the transparent bottle gets pushed into the breeder's mouth and he’s told to drink, would help. And a lot like the scent, there is no flavor when he drinks it like water in the desert, filling him with life the second the liquid passes his lips. A wonderful tingle as if he was taking a big stretch, he moans and perks up. Only to have it ruined by the next order to push, the contraction and pain just as strong as before.
A yell to keep going, he focuses on his efforts as this long labor drags on. His luck with birthing heirs no better than the first two. The third not having the speed it demands, seems to take any frustration out on him.
The bottle is about half empty when he is told to relax. After several deep drinks of this strange liquid, he has lost track of time and progress. He could be pushing out the head and he would never know. His sole focus is stopping dots from dancing in his vision while his arms shake. The pillow under his hands and a blanket for his knees the best he was going to get when he’s instructed to lie on his side. The Slayer closing his eyes as he rests with a long sigh.
Then jumps when a leg gets lifted to observe his birth canal. A yell to stop ignored as he finds he’s too drained to fight back. Hisses to let go brushed aside as they say he was ready. The head was in sight. A pathetic kick having them look at him with annoyance while John takes his hand to give a quick squeeze and smile. The Slayer glaring at his strange lack of care.
“Don’t worry,” John says, “they are not doing anything, promise. They just want to see, same as before.”
“How?”
“This is a way to be easy on you. But you might not like the next step. You will need to squat to let gravity help. They say your body would fare better with that position. At least here.”
“I can’t…” looking at a nurse as they allow his legs to close and everyone else steps away from the bed. A frown at their stares, Doctor Ro nods and motions for him to climb off.
Which the man does with a lot of aid. His torso jiggling and rocking, he holds onto the metal sides as he’s again ordered to push. Bent over and soaked in perspiration, he obeys like he could hear the lord of Hell watching from the shadows. He had to get this one out. They were so close…
A grunt fills the bay as his body shakes and spasms with every ounce of effort. Footsteps all around as a hand rubs his back and belly. Soft words to drink, having him down the rest of the brew. Sweat streams down the breeder’s face and his knuckles turn white from the hold. Yelling so loud the entire section had to know what was going on when his canal pushes and stretches. Screaming as he knows the head tries to breech. The baby ready to enter the world with the Slayer’s cries to pull it out.
The doctor does just that when she and a nurse reach under. The pressure lessens when they support the heir, each telling him to keep going. Gravity should do most of the work if he wanted it gone. Energy from the drink is a true lifesaver when he finds enough strength to give a good push as the head breaches and the medics instruct him to not stop. In no time, feeling the shoulders when they say to quit. An order to the nurses, the infant becomes freed of the warmth they once called home. Gasps and cheers all he needs to grow lax and fall to the floor.
Facedown on the ground, calls for a wash kit and blankets quickly turn to white noise as he groans. Too weak to even move as his body gets rolled over to see John sitting at his side, brushing back the locks that stick to his face. A smile for the exhausted warrior, they remain quiet as soft touches keep him grounded. Not yet able to fall asleep, he grabs an offered hand and takes a deep sigh, unwinding a little.
He did it again… He survived one more pregnancy. He could sleep soon enough.
A look at the white coats, he sees the bright yellow sac that holds the new heir. Kind hands are careful to tear off the thin membrane and unwrap the infant from the sticky flesh covered in blood and other fluids. The soft coos of attentive medical staff unheard, their eyes remain closed as if in deep slumber despite the fight to be born only minutes ago.
But by the time the Slayer can be lifted back into bed and wipe the sweat from his brow, the baby is clean and swaddled in a gray blanket. Their breathing is quiet as they also recover from the long labor. The large head on his chest, he examines the child he worked so hard to give birth to. Unsure how to feel when he sees this one is a more natural golden hue. The color not as intense as the sac they came from, it is kinder on the eyes. But he can’t help but notice it has a more humanoid form than Baal. The hands and feet more human despite the soles’ combined size being smaller than either of the wide fists. When he adjusts, the marine notes that the digits at least look like fingers and toes, even if each has slender, sharp claws instead of nails.
But the oddest features are on their scalp and hips. On top of their skull, they have two small, pointed ears, while the tail is longer than Bels’ strange stub when they were born. A full limb with a point, it curls a little when he fixes the blanket to warm them up again. Their soft whimpers for touch answered as he holds the child against a breast. The swollen gland was the perfect pillow for their tiny head and arms to cling to him. The gesture almost melting the cold indifference that fills him at the sight of his hard labor. After all this time, this pregnancy seems so much longer than the two in Hell.
And the suspicion grows when Doctor Ro strolls over long enough to check on the sleeping infant and tell him, “Good job, breeder. The baby is healthy, and you lasted all six hours. Not the longest I’ve done, so be thankful. The father will be here soon.” And with that, she walks off, standing at a computer to type as the other staff remains nearby.
The Slayer can’t help but have a slight pang at the doctor’s detached attitude. Better than Doctor Green, but he wonders if he should be glad that is the case. Davoth was always so warm after he gave birth. The only time the sire acted kind, he almost wanted the lord to arrive and hold him close.
But then he’s reminded he has something better when John wraps an arm around his shoulders. The comfort of this smaller man makes his hormone-saturated body warm with joy as he leans into the embrace with a purr. The kind gesture is like a button being pushed when he snuggles the other marine, touching the more fit form as he rubs his temple against a sculpted pec. A glance at a surprised John, he smiles and grabs the man’s shirt, kissing his face. Nothing long. A simple peck on the cheek that has the corporal give a shy grin and hold his chin.
Then John pulls away and touches the infant’s head, sitting at the Slayer’s side as he remains silent. The breeder frowns, wondering what's wrong with the marine. The gesture he gave after the kiss was nice, like he wanted it too. Like he felt the same way as he did right now...
The Slayer takes John’s hand and blinks, entangling their fingers as he asks for a hug in a low voice. Having the other man know how badly he needs this with parted lips and an averted gaze.
His body is almost on fire when he gets what he asked for, not letting go for as long as he can. A slow sigh as his muscles unwind. All of his energy now going to his arms, which cling tighter to this strong island. He closes his eyes, basking in the heat of someone he cares about.
He was a royal breeder, and he deserved this…
No, he needed this.
Right? Is this wrong? Was this affection or hormones?
Who cares? He just wanted to…
John doesn’t act offended when they part. The smile on his lips a sign he was okay with this. The light in his eyes far more playful when he settles down and holds out his hands, taking the child to get a look for himself. Strong arms holding them like a precious package, he stares as they sense the change in possession and wriggle for a second. One eye opens to glare at the new guy and reveal a golden iris as they furrow their brows. With a low sound that seems to show annoyance, they close the eyelid, burrow into his less ample breasts, and make do with the thinner padding. Tiny fingers digging into his shirt until the claws grab some fabric and pull the pecs closer together. Once more breathing softly when the man chuckles and rubs their back with small circles.
“Well, looks like you got a little feline here,” he says, glancing at the Slayer. “Acts just as entitled as a house cat, that’s for sure.”
“Is that a bad sign?” the breeder asks, reclining to watch the two at a safe distance. “All heirs are expected… to be entitled.”
“Depends on who you ask. But for you, assume nothing is different. Have to baby the tiny thing either way. At least, that is what I think. Can’t remember the last time I met one of the creatures, to be honest. I am a marine, so I’m more of a dog person.”
“Oh well.”
“I’d be more worried about what their father thinks. Think this will satisfy the sire?” the last two words emphasized with a snobbish drawl.
“Absolutely not. Just wishes this was more… back-to-back? Less downtime between impregnations. Baal became implanted. Right after Bel was born. Formed when I misbehaved.”
“Fucked, but who am I to act surprised by that bullshit? At least it’s over. Enjoy the break, for now, Slayer. Deserve that much after fucking giving birth.”
“Yeah… You okay?”
“Of course. Why?”
“Still got those wounds,” pointing to the small bandages on his head and neck. The bruised cheek looked worse than the Slayer's ass right now. Why was it around after so long?
“My friend, you pushed out this little living creature. Please do not worry when I am patched up.”
“Taking a while to heal.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, he is,” comes the gruff voice of the one he had been waiting for.
The father not caring that he had missed his child’s birth, he strolls into the room in his Earth form. His expression is soft and relaxed for the situation, standing by the bed to see his child. On a shoulder sits Baal, leaning on his head to stare at the new sibling with utter fascination. Both cooing the sleeping infant when Davoth walks over to John and takes the newest heir to whisper in his own tongue. The words having them snuggle against his silk tie and yawn as he looks seconds from melting at their precious reaction.
Baal tries to get closer, using their father’s locks as a handle. The lord unfazed by this, he laughs and asks if they want to take a better look while petting the baby’s head. With a nod and a squeal, the older child slides down into his other arm and grabs the blanket to reveal more, copying Davoth when they coo their new sibling. A finger tickling the infant’s small nose when they frown and grab the offending digit, biting down as the offender giggles. Then told in a playful tone to not do that while the hand gets pulled away.
Turning back to the Slayer, Davoth smiles and grabs John’s forearm, dragging him to the foot before the lord takes his spot on the bed. A kiss placed on the breeder’s head, he places both children on a breast. Baal quick to latch on, he touches the infant’s back for them to awaken and sniff the air. Yellow eyes squinting in the bright room when they find the nipple and feed. And again, both parents sigh with relief that there is no blood.
A gentle touch has the Slayer gaze at Davoth while the lord plays with some hair. Leaning into the caress, he smiles as fingertips stroke the messy locks and slide down to hug him in an arm. Another peck on the cheek having the breeder take the hand to hold for a moment, the ruler unbothered as he watches his offspring and links fingers. A soft purr making sure the marine was filled with bliss and gets a slow kiss on the lips. His head spinning as the hormones fade, he parts from this with a moan, clinging to the bit of joy this offers. Never looking away as the warm embrace remains and Davoth speaks.
“Once more you please me, Slayer. A little slower than the last labor, Doctor Ro promised you did well enough. However, I think you will need the rack from now on," his tone growing stern with the last sentence. "Remember, my offspring takes priority, and none are interested in you when an heir is being born. Suppress the anxiety. They have no reason to ruin this event.”
“I know.”
“Hmm, we’ll see. No matter, my child needs a name. Something fitting of their place as the newest successor. They shall be known as El, that of the gods.”
No one comments on this choice, both marines looking at each other, then the infant while they wriggle in the blanket while suckling. The Slayer watches closer as he notices how big Baal looks next to them, making him wonder if they have grown that much. Unable to deny it when Baal decides the current feeding arrangement is not acceptable and shoves their sibling aside to stretch out more.
Only to squeal when their papa pushes them to their own spot. A look of absolute indignation for both parents, Davoth nods as El gets put back. The older child still not letting go as they glare. A few medics make themselves known when they comment to each other in hushed tones. Nobody tells them to stop as more type notes.
And by the end, the afterbirth bliss is gone as Baal jumps into Davoth’s embrace, and a portal opens by the bed for several unwillings to shamble out. The hisses and groans of the undead fill the room as they raise their arms, and the medical staff gasp. All glancing toward the exit as the lord hands his yawning children over to the nannies with a smile. Both closing their eyes as he frowns at the horrified workers.
In a low voice, he tells the OB, “You are excused, Doctor Ro. I suggest you leave with your helpers, or join the palace help. I thank you for all the assistance today, and expect those notes in my files by the end of the day.”
Not a single medic hesitates to walk out the door, the entire room quiet as they escape without a word. The way closes as the lock turns red, trapping the marines in as the ruler smiles. His hand reaches out as he sits at the Slayer’s side to cover the breeder’s face in kisses. Soft praise murmured in an ear, saying how hard he had worked.
After this long, the Slayer feels nothing except anger, but he endures the entire ordeal with tight lips. His acknowledged fatigue is not enough to end the assault. He’s too weak to stop this. A raised hand only touches the fine suit when it’s taken to be kissed softly on the palm. Both playing this game until the sire decides this is over.
When the ruler is pleased, the Slayer can’t help but be thankful for the distance. Nonetheless, he still frowns when Davoth sits back to remove his jacket—just the jacket. The thing tossed on the neighboring bed, the lord rolls up his shirt sleeves when the warrior asks a question.
“Where were you?” looking at his feet to not imply anything.
“What’s wrong?” purrs Davoth, stroking the man’s cheek. "Was this labor too overwhelming? Did you want me there? Or mad I was not there to help you along?”
“You like to watch, right? Love them so much. Why skip this?”
“I would never remain ignorant about my children. The cameras on the nurses made sure I didn’t miss a thing. Plus, the ritual could not be interrupted. That was the reason I sent the follower to distract you. The entire plan was to buy me time.
“Yes, I know what you want to say—about sending several replacements to teach him a lesson and delay the labor. But the reason I didn't was to try out that potion you drank. It is always wise to have something in place if I cannot make it in time to help with the full delivery. I hope you realized I know what is best. That I am glad to witness you taking what I gifted; embracing what I can do with zero hesitation. Without a doubt, that was a work of art…”
Davoth leans in as he grabs the Slayer’s face, showing long teeth with a grin. A harsh scent of smoke fills the air as he closes in. The Slayer keeps his mouth shut as he nods in response, inhaling the smell of bonfire and blood. The hold on his cheeks loosening for the lord to lean back and look the man over before he stands and removes his watch. This accessory shoved in a pocket when he looms over the Slayer. Who knows exactly what is coming as Davoth climbs on top and parts his breeder’s legs.
A groan comes from the bed. The heavy weight of the ruler pins him to the mattress when sitting on his lap. An especially angry growl from John silenced with a snap as their lips meet. Firm hands grab his face to twist just right before slow fingers pet his hair. Davoth goes deeper, getting a taste as a palm leaves to caress his breeder's chest. A low purr sends a shiver down the Slayer's spine as fingertips trace his plump body. In seconds slipping the hand in between thick thighs. A question from their lone observer gets cut off when he turns away to moan as the lord slips in and lets him catch his breath.
Soon pulling the warrior back for more when a gentle massage of his insides has him open to allow more inside. Once more stretched, this is far nicer, and he could almost smile when soft words make the lord’s irises let off a softer glow, reaching deep into the birth canal.
Then it is over, and the limb pulls away to leave him a good kind of empty. The mass on his lap not leaving, he frowns as slow kisses on the throat have him rolling his head to the side. Tired eyes staring as all he feels is unease, letting out a soft whimper as he hugs Davoth with one arm.
In a low voice, he says, “Hey… Is this too soon?”
The questioned ruler stops his kissing to sit up. “I would never… You need rest after all that hard work. Nothing I desire is more important than keeping you calm to heal. While the pain couldn’t compare to this birth, staying intact is all that matters. With this new potion, I think we should increase your numbers. Maybe doubling my offspring?”
“I would love to see that… More reasons to try things,” glaring at his stomach as he fists the sheets.
“That’s my good breeder,” beaming as he slides off to hold the Slayer in his arms. Squeezing the soft body while the man wriggles, he smothers every inch of the warrior in affection. Nothing off limits until he seems sated and stops, climbing out of bed to bring his attention to the other marine. Neither fighter moves when he cups the corporal’s face and gives him the same treatment. The arousal that he draws from John so loud the Slayer fears Davoth is getting his needs fulfilled this way instead.
But when he lets John sink to the floor, the only thing that changes is his wounds. Gone are the bruises and bandages, replaced with bruised lips and shaking knees. Showing a confused look at this development, he watches as Davoth grabs John by the collar and drags him to his feet. A hand raised, the ruler backhands the marine across the face with almost no force and too much noise. But the power placed in the strike is still enough to send him to the ground. Both glaring at each other when the corporal is left huffing, his shoulders squared as he stands.
“What the fuck was that for?” hisses John, touching a pink cheek. “Why the hell did you heal me if you were going to break something? Fucking shit is...“
“That is for daring to prevent my follower from getting his reward. I gave him a potion for using my breeder. You do not decide who uses him. You do not possess the power or authority to even ask if you can leave.”
“Slayer was five minutes from bursting. Should thank me for not allowing that before giving birth. Not with all my training.”
“I did not ask for your advice, toy. My knowledge makes anything you learned pointless in these situations. I explained why already. DO NOT QUESTION ME AGAIN.”
“And I won’t apologize for your happiness or ego. I’ve got no energy for demands when a person is dealing with a medical situation.”
“Oh no, I don’t expect any apologies from you. I am well aware of your history as the convenient college midwife. But my warning will be the same as the one for my breeder. You obey what I say and accept what I offer. All else is asking for punishment. And if you ever put another follower in the medical bay, I will have you impregnated and begging for an entire brood before the circle activates.”
“Yeah, okay, you won’t do shit to me. Said so yourself. And last I checked, you don't have the courage to change your mind either,” giving Davoth a smug grin.
“How badly do you want to test me, toy? I can start right now,” grabbing the man to squeeze his fingers around the thinner throat. Each nail growing longer and sharper as John’s feet leave the floor and the skin around the points turn red.
The Slayer sits up, gripping the edge of the bed to move. The soft groan he makes when his body protests seems to shock the ruler out of his fury and he whips his head to gaze at the breeder. Genuine worry in his eyes, Davoth lets go to rush over and place a palm on the still round belly. Whispers to relax and not become stressed, having the man take the hand and nod. The man quickly appeases the lord with promises to rest if they can return to his room. Davoth smiles as he agrees with a quick kiss on the lips while a hand grabs a glaring John to bring to their side.
A simple push has both marines side-by-side to fall through a portal into the much more cushioned space of the private quarters. All is quiet when Davoth moves the Slayer to bed, the blanket pulled up to make sure he’s comfortable before the lord chooses to leave. A slow final kiss for the breeder, he exits without another word.
John crawls into bed to lie down once they are truly alone. An arm draped over the warrior’s stretched stomach, the two give pained smiles as they see the lock stays red. Safe from prying eyes once more.
“You okay?” asks the Slayer, touching John’s fixed face.
The corporal nods, glancing at the wall. “Yeah, got everything sealed, then fucked with my nerves. Nice to not have a bruise, though.”
“Had me worried.”
“Hey, getting molested and slapped is a small price to pay, right? Even kept it above the belt when fixing me up… He didn’t hurt you, did he? Shoved a whole fist up there after pushing out a kid.”
“Yeah, just doing a quick checkup. He’s gentle after the delivery.”
“That’s the only good thing about the whole situation.”
“Need that,” looking down at John when he rests his chin on a shoulder. A ghost of a smile on the Slayer’s lips when he lays his head on a pillow and rubs the corporal’s arm. His next sentence left unsaid when the other closes his eyes and droops his face to sleep on a breast. The Slayer getting comfortable as he tries to join the snoring marine.
And he would have just as fast. If it were not for the soft green glow from above. At first only a bucket helmet, the living warrior can only stare as the ghost seems to drag itself through the ceiling. Like it was fighting to escape a mud pit, the fingers claw at the walls to bring itself into the room. The white plating covering most of the figure, the black where it is missing makes the green aura around it stand out more. More so when the head does a full 180 degrees and he sees the M-shaped decoration where the face should be.
The Slayer stares as his body refuses to move. Even as the entire form vibrates and a low pained groan seems to make the limbs scramble down the wall to the floor on all fours. The tired man too weak to do much, he blinks when the ghost stands and walks over, lifting a hand as he watches. The motion too slow to show anger or signal it was going to strike, he still holds his breath when it forms a fist. His own fisting the sheets when he sees the ghost slam the balled fist against its chest and bows, its head lowered as it kneels on the floor. A full bow for the breeder, it whispers something. The words too quiet to catch them all, he hears, “Tear” and he pales, his body frozen. A growl sounding too much like "Rip" seems like a warning.
His mouth open to speak, it whips its face up and stands. Once more silent, the obvious illusion turns as a new figure walks from the wall. The figure lacking the same detail, it reaches out a clawed hand and wraps it around the armored ghost. Both turn a bright crimson as the new one is absorbed and the first falls to the ground, sinking through the floor like it was falling into a pool.
The Slayer adjusts to stare at the spot where they disappeared, holding John when he shifts. A few blinks to see that nothing had returned, the two men settle back on the mattress. The one still awake pulling up the blanket, he stares at the ceiling, his eyes too heavy to think about it too much. The fog that had held off this long floating across his mind, and a sigh lets his eyelids snap shut.
Probably Davoth... He seemed to like using the visions ever since they came to this Earth. Maybe he left it for John after the scolding before. Wasn't as good as the ones described.
A quick squeeze on his ribs has the Slayer roll over and get comfortable. Needed to sleep. Wasn't going to get any once the kids returned. A groan and he is gone while the smaller arms find his body again.
Notes:
Yay, three heirs and a precious new baby! What shall we do with the new little bundle?
And get ready for a special character here to return. There was a plot point here I couldn't drop in my outline, despite them all getting off on such a wrong foot. They should have saved that for what will come next. ヾ(≧へ≦)〃
Oh dear, the delusions are back—and this time, they're manifesting. I need to do something fun with the hellish vision for the water boys soon—either D3 or D2016 style visions. Open to ideas. (ノ*ФωФ)ノ
Chapter 18
Summary:
With Baal getting older, Davoth decides to test their abilities the only way the ruler of Hell knows how: in the arena. Returning to a land now forgotten by the Slayer, the group meet new demons at Sentinel Prime. The Gladiator waiting to get a turn with the breeder while John has an interesting realization.
Notes:
There is a testament mentioned during the trip to the arena. There will be a "translation" for it at the bottom of the chapter before the notes and marked with a + so you can use whatever search function to read this if you don't want to wait.
The second half of the smut in this chapter was inspired by a comment on the previous work in the series that suggested using a bigger demon to destroy the Slayer's insides. I couldn't figure out how to fit it in (LMAO) there, but I wanted to do this suggestion for a long time. So here we go!
Also, since it's my birthday week and I got the gift tonight—saved a baby rabbit that my dog discovered on the sidewalk and got to place it back in the nest—I had to post something. Hope to have the next chapter soon too. I was so worried that I would lose the little kit, so seeing it perk up when smelling momma's fur and crawl back in is giving me some good energy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Sunlight shines onto the gray floor of Davoth's office, filling the space with soft light. Warm rays wash over the five sat in luscious chairs by the window. All is quiet as the three men gaze at the slow rise and fall of the tiniest royal's chest in slumber. No one is speaking, so as not to ruin the small bit of peace that they manage to create. None daring to break this wondrous silence and once more listen to the screams of a displeased El bounce off the walls.
And for what it was worth, John accepted the situation with as much grace as he could. He may not be the best at sitting down and taking it, but today he was going to do his damnedest to play along. He was having a good day, and wasn't in the mood to give his superior an excuse to spend the evening together. The leering fuck didn't bother being subtle this afternoon, but John pretends nothing is going on. He knew he would end up yelling here and probably in Sarge's quarters. And if they are shouting, so is the baby. There is no winning here.
So his desire to punch the man in the face is chained and curled up in a corner. Instead, John watches Baal pull on the bastard's pants to remain standing. The kid is still having trouble finding their footing on the hard surface, so they cling to Sarge with a big smile as he helps them stay upright. The corporal turning to stare out the window while a sharp squeak tells him they landed on their butt, again. Sarge is quick to pick them up, reminding them to keep both legs steady. Despite Baal's larger size, they can only peer over their uncle's knees, their legs quaking as they rest their chin on a thigh and hug a shin.
A loud whine shows the full set of teeth that had sprung forth from the child's gums sometime since the youngest was born. John was unsure when that happened—one day lying in wait, the next day there. The only reason he doesn't question it is that there is no point. No one cares after the horrible teething before. Even more so when the tusks have grown just past their nose, the impressive pair turning into proper weapons.
A chuckle has him look at the Slayer smile when he lays El on his lap, their limp body acting as a blanket as he fixes his shirt. A glance at the sleeping infant, John taps a finger on the arm of his chair and locks his gaze on the other marine. For now, indirectly enjoying the uncle/heir playtime.
The corporal is still in awe at the quick transformation the Slayer went through since giving birth. He was told that the warrior bounced back to his original size with ease, but he had expected at least half a year to see progress. Only a few weeks after popping out El, and he had returned to being a walking tank. Almost as muscular and fit as when they first met, he still gets comments from obvious followers about his massive tits—or worse—once he could fit in normal shirts again. But after his fight before the delivery, John has refrained from any serious conflict with those marines. The pointed gun and threats these days were enough to prevent Davoth from complaining and the Slayer from reminding him he didn't have to let his training take full control every time. John assumes the outcome of his victory over the unknown marine gave him some prowess. Or at least enough infamy to not waste their energy.
Not like it mattered when the guy was exhausted and slept through the evening because he had a short afternoon with the kids. Kept the fights to a minimum when John left to do basic tasks for them both.
But right now, he relaxes. Baal was rolling on the ground while Sarge stands up. A laugh from both fills the room as the kid gets picked up and the older man tells them to hold on. A slow spin around the room, they kick their hooves and cling to his arm. A loud squeak heard as the two plop down in the chair, the white leather making the same noise.
Baal grabs their tusks, then announces they are bored and have decided they walked enough. Their proud tone shows they feel something was accomplished when they flop on the Sergeant's belly and use his body as a bed. The soft snoring that comes from their lips in sync with the loosening grip on their long teeth.
“Finally…” Sarge mumbles and picks up Baal to lay on a couch in the corner. Tucked in under their green blanket, he says to the warrior, “Guess we know where all your energy goes, Slayer.”
The man nods, his eyelids looking heavy, as if witnessing the kids play drained him. “That's why demons are nice. Great playmates.”
“Yes… And John must help a lot. To make up for that change in resources.”
“Yeah,” raising his brow at the comment. “What are you saying?”
The blunt question has Sarge shrug and answer, “I must send in reports, and making note of the toy's progress is always required. I try to keep all the marines as efficient as possible. No matter the task.”
“Don't care. No troubles in a while.”
“Can't dispute the facts. Nor the progress Davoth has made on this corporal,” walking over to rest a hand on John's shoulder as he bristles and stares at his boots.
John refuses to react when the arm moves, the deceptively gentle touch sliding down to rub a bicep. Only maintaining minimal eye contact when his chin is yanked up. The back of his head rests on the Sergeant's belt, and his neck sits at a strange angle, but he keeps a blank stare. A warning from the Slayer is cut off when the grip on his face tightens, dull nails digging in before John can move.
Nobody speaks a word about the clenched knuckles. Or how John breathes when he thinks about how easy it could be to punch the Sergeant so hard he saw bits of his skull when it shattered.
But he does not have the chance when Sarge adds, “He is so close to being a whole new person. Still a real shame when compared to his other state, though. Think Davoth can make it automatic for everyone?”
Fuck this!
The target of his remarks shows a snarl, John's fingers gripping the arms of the chair.
Fuck this piece of shit. If Sarge wants to test such limits with his life, someone should show him how stupid that is.
Gripping the leather tighter, he braces to jump up and have the superior learn where his soul would go in Hell before he realized he had died. John could almost feel the flesh giving under his knuckles. Hear the loud crack when bone collided with his fist and the ground.
The Slayer snaps his fingers, interrupting before he can act. “Not while the children sleep. If you wake the—”
"Any threats you might have are hollow, Slayer. They mean nothing to me." The man fists John's hair and wrenches his head to the side. "Remember who is in control of who."
Then he throws the corporal over a shoulder with a grunt. The entire office is a gray blob when John slams on the floor. The metal giving a resounding clang where his skull makes impact. Pain is not the right word for the feeling when his skull rattles around and his brain hits the bone so hard it might have liquefied. The world is spinning. His limbs shake as he can't move. Eyes fall out of focus, focus. Legs… where are his legs?
Dull thumps grow louder. John tries to get up. Get away. Get away!
Sarge smiles while he stands over and stomps his boot on John's spine, pinning him to the ground as the heel grinds down. "Slayer, you can't even stay awake when the heirs nap. You should remember your limits. I won't send you to the waste facilities as I do with my other subordinates, but there are other ways of dealing with you."
"What is—"
"The point? He's easier to throw around."
He removes his foot and grabs the marine to hang in the air. The shirt already gone, John stares at the pressed and ripped rag. The fabric stuffed in his mouth, Sarge touches the circle before the Slayer can respond. Both watch as John laughs into the gag as he drops to the floor, rolling onto his back for his legs to snap open while the Slayer stomps over and seizes his superior's shirt collar. The two stepping back as they grapple shoulders and hiss incoherent threats, the children fast asleep to all of this.
And John can only stare when the pair remains oddly still in the massive space. Like a pair of fuckable statues. Face-to-face, they should be doing that while he is on his hands and knees; the gag tossed aside as he notices how serious they look. Well-aware that he had to fix this before he lost the chance to guzzle hot come. Imbibe the shared vitality. His mind was spinning, but it wouldn't matter once he was busy.
Already crawling over to them on quivering limbs, he parts his lips and debates which one he should swallow first. Though his brain quickly gives up when he reaches them. The fog is too thick, and the useless neurons overload trying to pick when presented with this important decision. Two untouched cocks right there. Maybe he could fit both in there—
The Slayer chooses for them all and takes John's arm, pushing him into an empty seat. A grunt at the rough treatment, the smaller marine still grins as he reaches for his belt. The Slayer pauses as the metal clinks. Then he shakes his head and slaps the hand aside, tapping the circle to end that. John blinks as he rubs his temples. Then blinks again as his eyelids droop, his neck flopping to the side. The edge of his vision dimming, he leans on the chair and shakes off the feeling. The two standing men staring at each other before the warrior returns to his seat, holding out El for Sarge to take. Who does not let the previous spat keep him from staying close.
Seated next to the Slayer, he hears the bigger man's warning."You're not funny, Kelly." The words are curt and thick with venom, the black bile that should come with such contempt just about dripping from his lips. The message feels like there was something John missed.
The threatened Sergeant shrugs and adjusts El in his arms. A coo to have them wiggle deeper into his embrace, he says, "I would be quiet, breeder. You hesitated for a second after saving him."
The Slayer looks ready to jump the superior, but he only turns away and remains silent.
Sarge smiles and opens his hand for a yellow knitted blanket to fall into it. The baby swaddled in the soft cover to poke their tail through a hole worn in the bottom. His eyes turn to John as he leans back to rock them. The corporal doing the same as his head lulls on the hard leather cushion.
"I can see why you are so protective of the breeder. Thinks less than you, and currently lacks your strength. I hope Davoth has him pregnant again soon. Better use of resources."
"Save it for the report, Sir." John rubs his head and stands up, stumbling for a second before he falls roughly into the seat. "What the fuck—" the walls blurring while the windows fog up. A beep strikes his eardrums like a bolt of lightning, and he squeezes his eyes shut.
"Shit!" Sarge yells.
Several beeps come in quick succession. John winces as his headache intensifies, and he hunches forward. His throat burns.
Sarge curses more, his footsteps running toward John. Then he grabs the man by the shoulder and sits him upright in the chair. A grunt to stay still, Sarge undoes the belt and chokes John. A snap to not fight and wake up the child, he runs a finger over the circle before he begins prodding the skin. His captive hardly cares for long. A few twitches and his head stops pounding, and then the room stops spinning. A pull on the inside of his skull is the worst thing he feels the entire time. The hand leaving to catch a fresh shirt, John doesn't accept it. Sarge smirks as he tosses the clothing onto his lap and sits next to him. Both staring the other down with squinted gazes.
Sarge breaks the silence to say, "I should have just put the breeder down and tied you up. Watching you beg into the gag would have been a better choice than the concussion."
"Is there a single one of you bastards that uses a filter? Or is that only to not get fucked to death by Davoth?"
"I could ask the same of you. But that is not related to anything I said. Why do you think Slayer hesitated before doing anything? A shame I miscalculated his self-control."
"Better him than you. He at least asks before taking me."
"I can bring him too. The venerable lord could not deny such a request with your attitude. You earned it…" giving a cold smile. The unquestionable authority he showed when they first met evaporating as a hand returns to touch his corporal's knee.
"The children are sleeping." John yanks the leg away and stands, grabbing the shirt as he takes El from the Slayer and rushes for the safety of Davoth's desk—no matter how ironic that is. The child still fast asleep when he lays them on the desk. Only a step apart to put on the intact piece of clothing and turn on the display behind the chair.
A whine brings him back to the heir as he pets the odd growths on El's scalp. The things were not ears as he first assumed, but instead flat horns. The points had elongated, the inside filling out and hardening now outside of the womb. They're more fragile like fingernails when so little, but the milk seems to keep them sturdy. John pets their head when they whimper, shushing the softer noises with slow rubs over their belly. An oversized hand begs for him to hold them, El squirming as they open an eye until he does what they want. Once more hugging a warm body to settle down in his arms and poke short claws through his shirt, the weird tail rubbing on his belly.
Sitting back, John sighs. After all this time, he will never escape his training. Even the literal hellspawn of a demon lord is not so different that he couldn't figure this out. If he didn't think about it, like before…
Well, there are two of them now, so that should prove how effective that method was. At least the baby was less feline than they appeared. It felt more correct to baby them when they look demonic; made more sense that way after this long. The judgmental attitude from the royal rape prize was harsh enough without looking like something that would jump down from the cover of a thick jungle canopy. Though now that the fake outer ears are more akin to thick trowels and the hands are now tiny weapons that can also grab, that might change into a new, worse fear.
Especially now that the tail has gone through changes, the limb beginning to segment and taper at the top. Where the individual bones link, the muscles have atrophied down to the ligaments. Each piece otherwise healthy-looking, they grow upward into tapering points like tiny blades. The edges dull for now, they still hurt when flicking the thing around. Their placid fight against sleep reminding the man how thankful he is for afternoon naps. The potential future ruler yawning so they sound like a wounded animal. John rocks the infant as they lose the battle and let their breathing slow, going limp in his arms. The man smiling as he praises his efforts. The time they spend together today was longer than he ever got with the infant in the past—but going far better than he feared after… everything.
Though John has to wonder when the bastard would return. More so since the lord walked them here, the way up long and silent. Once in the office, Davoth dumped them by the door and said they were stuck with Sarge until he returns. Nothing more disclosed as the door shut behind the older man while the kids were teleported into the office.
John sees it's been two hours, both royals are sleeping peacefully, and not a single disinterested hand wave has sent them back to the room yet. Not even Sarge's outburst was enough.
This literally makes no sense…
Heavy footsteps break his concentration. John spins the chair to learn Davoth had returned and holds a bleary-eyed Baal, the speakers above suddenly growing a little louder. Dressed in royal attire, red eyes gaze at John, the dutiful toy right where the lord wanted him to be—with an heir in his arms, waiting for Davoth's return. The man stares back as he tries to appear calm, but comes off as more annoyed. Something feels off again when Davoth turns to the display. More so when he tells Baal to look at the screen.
John pales when he hears it's a news story about missing hospice patients. A chill creeps down his nape when they mention blood at the scene and no signs of distress; the families crying to know where their loved one had gone. The last two hours making a lot more sense.
“Forget anything in the city?” asks John, not at all hiding his current disdain when he glances at Davoth again.
“Ah, you think that was my doing? That I murdered them?” Davoth replies, a small smile curling his lips. “I am insulted that you assume I dirtied my hands like that. They were followers. They surrendered themselves willingly. The knife was in their hands when they gave their souls to me.”
“Couldn't even inform the families? Must have a good reason for that.”
Davoth licks his fangs and chuckles, coming closer to loom over. A grip on John's face to drag his gaze to the bright irises. “Since when did you care so much about my plans? None of this matters to you. Keep such thoughts where they belong and remain silent.”
“Don't flatter yourself. I don't give a shit.”
“Why would I need to worship myself, when you do such a good job?”
“You're right. I'll be on my way before I go overboard.”
“Do whatever you wish, but we are all going. As Baal said, they are ready to depart.”
“What?”
The ruler grabs John and faces the Slayer. In a more neutral voice, instructing the warrior, “Carry Baal. You will sit in on their lesson.”
John scowls as he gets dragged closer, walking over as the Slayer accepts the child and asks, “Not just watch El? Can stay here.”
“I said you would accompany us. What are you not understanding?”
"Usually don't… Don't keep them…" glancing down at the kid as he pets their head.
“Watch your attitude, or you will be a part of this lesson. We are traveling to Sentinel Prime. Do you remember that place?”
“No…”
“It had quite the history with Hell before I took over. A trophy was made from it's planet, Argent D'Nur, that decorates this realm and mine after it got split in two. The city we visit is one of its holy places and where blood was spilled often for honor. Until I let Deag Grav assume control and use it for better things.”
“Wait, we are visiting a new planet?” asks John, frowning as he fights way too hard to not show his excitement at the very thought. Mars was interesting—for the few normal minutes he spent there—but to know there are places out there that had life…
Davoth sighs and nods, letting the man go. “I find it so easy to forget your lack of experience. Yes, unlike Mars, other realms possess life. And unlike your planet's attempts, this location had successful colonies that were also dealt with."
"When are we leaving?” he asks while adjusting El. "We are seeing aliens, right? Or a skeleton…"
“At least you have the right attitude,” already stepping through a portal onto a stone walkway that seems almost carved into a mountain.
John, when looking around, cannot stop staring at all the green that surrounds them. The flora is an ocean that sways like waves below. A big smile on his lips, even as lightning flashes across the gray clouds that cover the skies. The strange architecture feels ancient when he spots the domed buildings in a line at the end of the path. The heavy doors are easy to find thanks to the many crumbled statues that give a clear view. Most only showing the flowing hems of long garments, only a couple wear either horned hoods or a pair of bones that grow out of their backs.
Next, turning to the very top of the area where an arena sits. A broad cylinder shape, tall arches form most of the exterior. Odd ribs that bend out and over the surrounding land and the flags waving high above are just enough to be otherworldly. And he could not believe it was still standing. Far more mercy was offered here than the UAC base after dealing with a hellish takeover.
Though the world becomes stranger when they walk inside for the biggest style clash that does not automatically offend his eyes. While the halls were designed like the interior of a castle, the abundance of metal and electricity to create the walls and stairs is too advanced. But there are banners and arms as if they should be much older… The hollow tone of their footsteps on the gray floor is more Mars than ancient.
Well, he did want to see something alien…
And he notices even more when they approach a short hall to a pair of large doors, two rows of armed guards gazing down at any newcomers from raised platforms. All are dressed in white armor accented with black lines that shine like obsidian, while gloves clutch crimson spears. Each with a bucket-shaped helmet that gives a soft pink glow, they stand facing the entrance until Davoth sets foot into the space. The second his boot touches the floor, they turn to face the center and clang their weapons on the hard ground, bowing as they greet the lord in his tongue. A shiver rushes down John's spine as this feels so wrong; the tone they use is hollow and dead. Much like the red banner overhead, showing a demon's screaming horned skull as it burns.
Why is this place so intact? What happened to prevent serious corruption?
But before he can think about it too long, the doors swing open to reveal a man with frozen blue skin and piercing red eyes. A thin golden crown of sorts sits around his head, the jagged lines of the piece akin to branches on a tree. The only protection he wears on his shoulders, he hunches forward to lean on a tall staff as he bows. Most of his mass remaining on the metal handle as he straightens and leads the way into the sands of the arena.
John can only watch as the taller stranger leers at each of the marines, a hand lifting toward the corporal. The Slayer steps forward to block the arm, and the grating laugh of their guide proves he enjoys the silent challenge. John steps aside to gawk at the roaring spectators high above, seeing just how big it looks from the inside. The majesty of the fighting pit is something almost worthy of even modern sports. Less screens and banners than anything on Earth, the sheer size is enough when so full of yelling watchers.
As they walk to the center of the area, the group is bombarded by the screams of the packed audience. And the very human features of the observers that stare back. His face falling as he wonders if they didn't leave the planet after all… But he doesn't humor this for long. The clothes are nothing from Earth in his century, the cuts more like a tunic than a t-shirt.
Hold on. What the fuck?
With a slow blink, John turns to see the massive art piece carved into the walls of the arena. A picture above the screaming mob depicts armored guards lowering themselves to Davoth, the stone in his chiseled chest glowing like the fires that burn behind the prostrate fighters. A winged creature with half of a humanoid head hangs above the flames, and he stares at the broken form dressed in ripped robes. The angelic being bent in painful angles as chains sprout from open wounds; smaller creatures that look similar to the bound one hang as weights on the ends of each chain. The image continues on the other side, where more in white armor seem to hack and burn the chained bodies, while others give pieces to a waiting line of guards. A winged black monster with a single eye stares down at the scene, its maw stretched wide... Same as the demonic vision in Davoth's office after John tried to escape his punishment... A fearsome illusion that still appears in his dreams.
The entire carving bordered with glowing patterns, he can just view the large runes underneath the imagery, wondering what it might say. A glance at the Slayer when the man points to the picture and smiles, brushing a hand along John's arm.
In a proud tone, whispering to the corporal, “I did that part,” gesturing to the biggest hanging figure. “Huge, flying monster. Had flame wings and tentacles,” pointing to what John had previously assumed was the robe's tattered hem. “That was the Khan Maykr. She tried taking over Earth. Davoth had me stop, stop, stop her invasion. Before he did it himself.” Then he frowns when he checks on El and whispers, “And I got them.”
“That doesn't sound fair at all.”
“I wanted it. He promised a battle. Souls were at stake and, and, and I needed that. Wanted to do some good.”
“Yeah, I get that…” adjusting to let El hug his ribs as they remain asleep despite all the noise. “Gotta do what you can to make the situation right. Not your fault."
“Maybe, but it hardly matters now. Just stay away from Grav,” pointing to their guide as both fall back a bit. “He is a hell priest. Knows things, acts as counsel for Davoth.”
“What is he doing here?”
“No idea. Only seen all three priests… in Hell. And before fighting Khan.”
“There are three of those fuckers?”
“That I met. Worked for Khan, betrayed her.”
“Eh, I can take ‘em either way. Could bodyslam all three into the dirt.”
The Slayer rolls his eyes and gives John a light push, who turns away to stare at the gates around the ring. The clang of Grav's staff brings the corporal's attention back to the front as they catch up, the group stopping in the middle of a large square. A jolt makes John brace as the stone under their feet lifts up. His eyes widening when they rise off the ground in a single smooth motion.
They had stepped on a platform that now carries them over the stands, a soft hum vibrating the floor through John's boots. A step toward the edge, he looks down at the tops of heads and waving arms. El curls closer to him, pressing their face into his shirt when a crack of lightning only adds to the sounds. A sigh warming his chest, he feels the platform shift as it rises to stop in front of box seats that overlook the entire arena. At the highest point, it's closed off from the other watchers, the carved barrier just the right height to place your hands, or rest your elbows, on the thick stone to see the fight. A pair of guards standing at attention along each wall, more gather around a pair of obsidian thrones with a drastic difference in quality. One simple and all carved from the same material, the other is elaborate and decorated with precious metals and jewels. Another greeting to Davoth from the security, the lord stops at the nicer throne while Grav bows and approaches him to speak.
“The prisoners are ready for Baal's training whenever you desire. I made sure to choose a special group this time. Usurpers who tried to capture a city for themselves. There are four that survived the first raid and following torture, so they shall pose a great challenge for your child. But if they need more fun, we did find the rest of their group during the subsequent destruction of the base. They lack the fight, but will run.”
Davoth nods and reaches out his hand to collect a calm Baal from the Slayer, holding them close to the chest as he walks with the priest to the viewing window. The blue man raises his staff for a flying demon to lift a large skull with blade hands, yellow sockets giving off a soft glow that covers Grav. Below a hologram of the priest stands in the center of the pit, making the same pose, both waving their staffs over the watcher. The monster floating closer to have a lens zoom in from the jaws, a small sickly yellow tendril sticking out as it actively reaches for the skies like a grabby hand.
Is that? That is a camera! Is that wiggling thing the antenna? Where is this being broadcast?
The space goes quiet for the hell priest to speak, telling all to witness the honor of their true ruler and his heir. The Gladiator had returned to show the might of those of divine birth. The words echoing in the space when he says this is the time to learn the true power of the young royals. The crowd cheers when a gate rises, Grav riling the mob while four in ragged clothes are brought into the ring by guards. The captives forced to kneel in the middle, their guards rush back into the tunnel as the hologram disappears, and a doorway on the opposite side opens for the hellish horror John had expected before. The flying demon turns to point the skull camera at the Gladiator, gliding across the arena to the other side. A new, closer projection showing off the full might of the star fighter floats just below the box seats.
This fucker is big, bad, and sounds ready to tear the battleground to pieces in a blind rage. And the corporal cannot believe he is thankful to be with Davoth as he imagines the carnage this demon could create. Its bottom half hoofed and shaggy, the top is pure muscle and bone. Not a single inch of its body is built for anything but killing. Its mouth doesn't even waste skin covering its teeth, and John can see the monster-sized fangs that act as the most forward weapons. The only true sign it has ever faced a loss is a simple eye patch—which is easy to spot when the working eye gives off a bright yellow glow.
The leather for its armor more decoration, it barely covers what is vital around the pelvis, a skeletal face on a bone slab codpiece replacing the loin cloth. And while leather straps on the torso and arms don't protect anything vital, they still act as warnings. The Gladiator's immense size is made worse by the club-like weapon and towering shield it carries as it stomps over to the prone captives. Even when so high up, it is hard to miss how the prisoners shrink under the behemoth's gaze as it lifts its head and roars, clanging its club on the shield's demonic face decorating most of the front. A stomp sending sand everywhere when it turns and hollers to the watching ruler.
Davoth smiles and drops through a portal to lift in front of the Gladiator, its massive form trying hard to dwarf him when he hands over the kid. The projection shows the exchange, a tattooed arm shown in perfect detail as the man can see the heir's individual strands of fur on their legs. The switch makes the Gladiator drop the weapon and shield into the dirt. Both palms open to accept Baal and bring them to its face, protecting the tiny body with bulging muscles. Then it lowers itself to the ground to fix its hold on the regal treasure, using the lone piece of shoulder armor to hide their head. Once more on its feet when Davoth turns to the crowd and gives them all a simple command. His form seeming to corrupt when the hologram of him stands taller than Grav's. His face more pronounced, his mouth seems to form a muzzle as his skin takes on a more scaly texture, the tattoos dancing on his chest around the orb. His teeth looking longer when he gives a message.
“Learn the power of Hell, and the true might of all my creations. My heir is unmatched by the greatest of your fallen heroes. Their names will be forgotten after today. Their presence wiped from history. As with all who defy my laws,” Davoth offering his kid a final glance when he walks toward the passage the Gladiator exited. The hologram disappearing once he walks through the doorway.
Then he appears back above the stands and takes his rightful place on the fancier throne, reclining to rest against the tall back. A fist grabs the Slayer, dragging the warrior's arm to sit next to the lord. A smile for him before it grows while gazing at his sleeping youngest. The baby is unaware when they float out of John's embrace and the blanket for their father's hold. A soft word having them snuggle against his chest and the soft red glow of his stone.
This leaves John alone with Grav, boney fingertips on his spine when he wrestles with the resurging urge to body the blue fucker into the dirt. The watching guards give a warning by tightening the grip on their spears. A raised hand has all lift their weapons until he steps away and lowers his arm. The glow of their visors are like blank screens, revealing little of their actual plans.
“What do you want?” he asks, glaring at the priest as he comes closer.
A long finger pointing at John's belly, Grav replies, “I get you, human, to play with. You are not as much to look at, but I think you will do just fine. I appreciate a good warrior.”
“Didn't realize staff were so well-rewarded…”
The holy man chuckles, walking to the remaining seat as he points his staff at John. “What a foolish one you are. I am of the Deag, a hell priest. I may run this arena, but I also know plenty about your circle. And what it can truly do. There will be no debating. The show is about to commence, so either sit down, or you will service every guard while I enjoy the execution. Your choice… toy.”
The options laid out, all John can do is sigh and glance at the hidden faces of the security staring back. The only answer is clear, and he makes sure there is no misunderstanding as he kneels on the floor by Grav's feet. The infernal Deag laughs as he grabs the human's wrist and tells him to be useful, dragging his captive onto the throne. The wide seats giving John little breathing room when an arm wraps around the marine's waist and plays with his belt. Thin fingers slide down the front as he turns to the sound of yelling below. Both thighs parted for a palm to cup his cock when the fight starts.
With the screams of the crowd and the roar of the Gladiator, John can only watch as the demon points to the captives and lets Baal climb onto its head. Sat between the long horns that grow forward like hooks to snag prey, they have the place yelling and crying as they bring forth four barons made of stone from various doors. Nine glowing eyes homing in on the heir's prey, the pack charges as the four prisoners jump to their feet.
The group fleeing together, the prisoners sprint toward the wall while the lesser demons stay close behind. Bright, fiery blades come from the creature's forearms, weapons flailing as their targets stay ahead. The royal sends their mount to the front when the criminals take a sharp turn and race for the nearest gate.
John straightens when they do not stop at the top of the doorway, instead using this as a ledge to climb higher up the wall. The spectators yelling as two who lead the way ascend to the highest point and pull the other pair up behind them, all standing on the very edge. The barons holler as they stomp the sand, facing their controller as the child pauses. Baal then twisting their head to peer at the stands. The crowd chants for those trapped in the pit while Davoth growls deep in his chest, the lord leaning forward as he squints. A finger tapping his throne as the hell priest and guards offer some space.
The corporal again watches the prisoners as all four take full advantage of this opportunity. Baal still looking around, their opponents take advantage of the distraction. A clearly projected and shared nod from the group is missed by the child. The entire arena roaring with joy as the adults launch themselves right at the Gladiator—and Baal.
The first offender grabs a horn tip, ramming a foot into the eye of the demon. The creature howls as the next one connects with its mouth. The blows force it to stumble when the third leaps. The fourth follows behind when they land consecutive kicks to the face, grabbing hands with the other pair to stay on. The Gladiator stomps backward, bending forward as Baal cries and hangs onto the nearest horn. The arena fighter grunts as it reaches for the heir, shielding them from the brunt of the clash.
Their opponents do not care and swing on top, using the powerful limb to vault over the hand. The calls from the crowd grow deafening. Their screams surpassing anything you would hear after the game-winning score of a tied game, the noise shakes the very walls of the once hallowed grounds. All staring as the four sail over the beast and it bellows. The arm whipping away to reveal Baal gone. Four prisoners in tattered clothes holding the royal.
But despite the growing chaos, even in the box seats, John can still hear Baal shriek when the prisoners tie up the child. Maybe he is imagining things, but he cannot deny their mouth is open wide to scream as they fight the stronger hands squeezing their neck and both hands are pulled behind their back. A second using a strip of cloth to bind their kicking legs while the barons make pained howls. John has to cover his ears when the battleground quakes with the frenzy this causes in the stands. A look at the lord showing he had stood up, his teeth grit, the long fangs dripping venom that sizzles on the stone. His irises alight like beacons as he refuses to leave the box seats, glaring at the scene that plays out before him. El fast asleep as they remain out of danger in his embrace.
The massive demons circle the five, nine glowing eyes flicking toward the child who revolts against their captors. Heavy footsteps have the four adults stand firm as everyone can see the creatures are helpless. None of the more powerful beasts taking a step when the lead prisoner motions them to retreat.
John now finds it easy to pull away and stand up as Grav stares at the standoff. The corporal free, he focuses on the struggling heir, leaning on the wall as he holds his breath. Waiting for the second this takes the most obvious turn for the worst. Fingers gripping the edge, a baron steps forward and a prisoner slaps Baal.
A low growl from Davoth has John glance at the Slayer. The glare Davoth aims at Baal shows he still has no interest in interrupting this. Even after he pushes the warrior to the floor out of anger when he tries to back off. The marines sliding closer to each other, they frown at the ruler's refusal to intervene.
He would save his kid if this escalated, right?
It is the sudden silence that forces John to look back at the arena. The cheers and celebration cut short as the four prisoners drop their captive in the dirt. All the chaotic noise dead, as if someone flipped a switch when the child sits up. On shaky feet, they point to the clouds. All staring as Baal screams with excitement, their face to the skies as lightning flashes overhead. A bolt strikes the ground when the clouds split like a hellish maw, a portal bigger than the Gladiator opening over the standoff. The size just right for a titan's hand to come out.
Many of the onlookers wished it was that kind of demon when the swarm arrives…
Howls of unbridled rage ring out when horned, flaming skulls rain down in the pit. The loud, ear-splitting wails of creatures that seem to be in unending agony surge toward the watching crowd and captives. The four run, kicking dust on Baal as the Gladiator dives to grab and hold them against its chest. Using its body as a cushion, the barons jump on top to act as a shield as the entire area is set alight. The endless lamentations of the burning balls of fury were so powerful that even the guards have to cover their eyes.
John drops to the floor when it feels like he's staring at the sun. His hearing overwhelmed, he turns to see the Slayer behind the wall while Davoth grins. The lord's mouth opening as if in a howl of laughter, he hugs his newborn close to the chest as they seem to sleep through the chaos. The corporal drops to his belly on the floor when it only becomes more dire, his head spinning as the flames leap high above the viewing window. The inferno is so strong that the box grows hot to the touch. His eyes squeezed shut as the screaming does not end. Sharp breaths do little to help with the noise. His lips begging for this to be over when the whole disaster becomes worse than any nightmare or vision of Hell he had endured.
Then, just as quick as it began, the cries and tall flames die down. An eerie quiet dropping on them like the swarm of damned souls the kid unleashed upon the crowd. The stone quickly cools, but it still takes a while for the ringing to stop in John's ears. Most of the box moving just as slowly. Davoth the only one who waits on his throne unaffected, undisturbed that his security got weakened by his child's chosen trump card.
A peek over the barrier lets him examine the empty stands and burned pit, the silence making sense as he fails to find anyone left. In the middle where the demons fell the mound shifts. The barons rise to brush off the ash and pick up the Gladiator and Baal. The fighters clustered around the child, Davoth steps into a portal and goes to the older heir when John spots something. Nearby sits a pile of ash that looks different from the rest of the area, its location very close to where he last saw the prisoners retreat. Then lightning cracks across the sky, the ash blowing away with a sudden gust of wind. A chill creeping down his spine as he gets to his feet and turns away from the carnage.
“Well, that was something,” John whispers, tapping a nervous finger on the simple throne.
The man did not like what he witnessed, but there wasn't much he could do. This was just a good reminder to keep the kids happy, or he might suffer similar treatment when they get frustrated. Wasn't right, but the kid's a living army... The screams that replay in his head making him peer at the arena one more time.
“Yes, that was quite the show, wasn't it?” Grav replies, hugging John's shoulders. “I always wondered when Baal would use lost souls like that. I was wise to begin with those. Though it is a shame that the rest of the blight perished so fast. And the lower half of the crowd…”
“Those were people!” pulling away from the priest.
“Yes, they were. Now they will provide fine experiments for the other Deag. I hope our lord is happy with everything I gave him.”
“You fucking—” the words cut off by the guard's glowing blades shoved in his face. The heat not as intense as Orcus' axe, his forehead still sweats when so close to the blades.
“No attitude around the heirs, little toy,” hisses Grav, his smug grin softening as he turns to greet Davoth and the kids with a maintained bow. “Venerable one, I hope you are pleased with this little game—despite being so short. Baal took care of all the prisoners I assigned to them. I apologize for not offering more. Most perish so quickly before they can be selected.”
Davoth leans forward and sits Baal on his shoulder. “This place has served its purpose. I was not disappointed with this idea, Deag Grav.” A glance at the bowed holy man, he kisses the older child as they beam with joy. “I think my child and their vessel would be more entertained by the challenges. At least for now with Baal.”
Grav lifts his face and steps forward, raising a finger for a second. “If you are impressed, I may find different prisoners to continue the show. For the proud heir to watch.”
“No, not today. There will be other times in the future. We shall speak about such arrangements then. I want to track their lessons too.”
“Of course, wise ruler. I await any requests. We shall ensure Baal has fun while they learn.”
Davoth nods, straightening as he says, “Make sure the demons are rewarded for this. My breeder and the toy can stay as long as that requires. They shall be returned whenever you see fit. Enjoy their assistance, Deag.” The smile grows as he looks at both marines and turns away, exiting as he speaks with an excited Baal. Squeals and a painful moan come from the children while the way closes.
Once they are gone, Grav motions to the guards, ordering the ones surrounding John to lower their weapons a little. A sneer for the corporal, he brings his focus to the Slayer, grabbing his collar. The warrior not resisting as he is pulled forward, and Grav grabs his cock. A quick squeeze, daring someone to stop him as the guards seem to pay attention too. None of the security trying to end the molestation when fingertips massage the bulge and the Slayer parts his legs. His body reacting as if it was trained to act like this, he bites his lips and opens up even more for the hand to slip between his thighs. The surrounding guards lean in when the fingers go forward and back over the twitching mound.
The watching man averts his gaze, stepping back as he feels the priest bask in his discomfort. A soft moan from the Slayer only makes him want to escape before he had to do the same; run and get some help or good weapons. For now, trapped in this box when Grav laughs and asks the warrior a question.
“So, Slayer, should we use the collar for those demons? I'm sure you would like it more if you begged for them to ravish you. Hmm, what do you think?”
“Fuck you…”
Panting like the words were a struggle to say, the hand playing with him returns to the top and undoes the belt. The mound pushing on the zipper looks a lot bigger as the teeth unlatch. His underwear stretching as the shaft pushes its way out through the opening.
Grav grins and says, “I can ensure that happens, breeder. Your sire was so kind as to promise all the time we wished… But we must obey his orders before I reward you.”
The Slayer growls, but does not fight back when his knees shake and the fist around his collar shifts to touch the stone. And with that simple motion, both marines fall to the floor to let out the most lustful sounds they could create. Their minds focused on what matters as they rush to the hell priest's side. Kneeled at the feet of the highest-ranked user, the lustful pair smile as their attention is drawn to the heavy cloth in the way. Arms reaching out so the holy man smirks and grasps the Slayer's wrist, stating he must service the Gladiator's group until they're empty.
The order has the breeder jump up as a portal forms, Grav dropping him among the sand and ash. Glowing eyes and large muscles sense his presence right away. Five demons surround the Slayer. Five demons fist their cocks as they all close in. One demon smothers the smaller human after he rips off his uniform and allows the Gladiator to take possession. Facedown and pinned to the ground when he screams, and the attentive corporal feels his dick and ass get ready and wet with excitement. Licking his lips, John pushes down the envy that arises. A growing demand for equal treatment screams for him to do something when a palm rests on the small of his back.
John jumps, whipping his head around to see Grav knows what he wants. The priest feels up the corporal through the uniform as he unbuckles the belt and unzips the human's pants. With some help from John, the bottoms and boots are kicked aside, letting the tall staff bend him over the wall. The heavy metal lifts while a hand finds his ass, two long digits slipping in to make John smile as they massage his soft tunnel. The slow thrusts inside the perfect combination with the Slayer getting railed by the Gladiator for his dick to leak. A loud moan shows his joy as Grav speeds up, and he grips the stone harder, bucking his hips as he can hear the other marine scream. His cock dripping when he can feel his hole become slicker.
“Oh, does this toy like to watch?” purrs Grav, adding a third digit to hear the human gasp. “Is that why you love to be at the breeder's side? Do you wish the Slayer would fuck others for you more often?”
John howls with laughter as he spreads his legs, glancing over a shoulder to reply, “And miss out on that fat cock ripping me open? I do whatever the hell he wants and fuck the come right out of him. I'm great at being his fucktoy, but you can see that for yourself…” the fingers curling against his walls as he speaks. The tips hitting his prostate over and over when his spine arches, and he begs for more with a long moan.
The fingers play with John's ass a little harder before they pull out, and he yelps at how rough the other is with his retreat. The human is about to ask what is going on when he hears fabric shift. A peek shows the priest is ready as his cock pokes the prepped entrance. Not as bad as the usual two when they become overeager, he smiles that it has some weight. A slow push getting him to look behind and bite his lip.
A rude thrust slams inside. The corporal yowls in shock before it slithers to the hilt. Then roughly pulls out, leaving him empty. But he's unable to whine about the teasing after arms wrap around his waist, and Grav shoves his way in with the kindness of a berserk breaking into a fortress. What preparation his body underwent/could offer only dulling the pain when he is ordered to take it with a grunt, and is penetrated so fast he wants to scream. A bellow from the pain ignored as he chokes and his head spins.
But his nerves light up with the same electricity as a good fuck and lets the circle gain more control. The pain quickly morphing into an ache that makes him scream. His lips not working as they hang open and he is made to love every second. Every agonizing stab to his hole assures John he deserved this as the rest watch, but none stop this brutal treatment. The way most stare without a hint of worry in their posture causes him to grin when he realizes the others love it. That he should love it too. A few hands by armored crotches telling the toy he was going to get them all off. The runes now seeping into his brain and nerves to anchor him to the spot with invisible chains. The priest commanding him to act like a breeder, John clings to the box when Grav smacks his sides a few times, his cheeks roughly parted. Swallowing the demanding Deag as he feels a sac slap his entrance, and splits his thighs wide open.
All that matters is now on display when he can't get enough, begging another user to be ready. Couldn't stand it. A slap on the ass shuts him up as Grav jostles him around while squeezing his throat. Head spinning and fingers clawing on the barrier when this grows so fucking hot and intense. Choked pleas to make him come dying in his throat as he can't breathe. A harsh order to be quiet emphasized with a thrust that punches his prostate so hard he sees sparks and blacks out.
The next thing he sees is his limp dick as it dribbles onto the ground. A gasp as he sucks in air, John lurches up to stare at the security looming over. Impatient hands palm their cocks. A silent warning that they were waiting, but not for much longer.
John, familiar with such folks, smiles as he gets on his knees, knowing to please the crowd before they take it. He would not enjoy the mad fucking if he's crushed by heavy protection. Not doing that again.
Ripping off his shirt, he helps a guard in front remove the crotch to the white armor while parting his legs. Fisting the cock, John jerks off the thick humanoid shaft while one accepts the rear invitation. Both globes in hand, a thicker shaft grinds on his crack, slick coating the entire length as he purrs, guiding the tip to his empty hole.
The guard takes over to punch the tunnel as he howls, and his fist speeds up, much to the first's pleasure. The buck of this one's hips has him grab a thigh when he is forced backward, impaled by the other as an arm squeezes his ribs. A quick “Get in there!” answered with a hard shaft filling his mouth—not the plan or the one he was talking to, but who was complaining. The sharp bucks of a dirty facefuck have him gagging as all he can do is devour the otherworldly dick leaking on his tongue. His cock throbbing as a fist wrenches his locks and holds him down to choke. Once more, only hearing the smack of flesh when held still to feel every thrust from the guards that claim both ends. Each sound of skin on skin making him moan when he could. His mind is too far gone to care that his head is spinning while he services the pair with a grin.
Or do a damn thing when come drenches him in white. The entire load shooting all over his face as the girth he was choking on slides out. His lips twist into a grin as he keeps them parted for the metallic flavor to wash over his mouth. Some hits his eyes, and John squints as he breathes and bounces on the other dick. A laugh as a final twitch lets more coat his chin. Then he wipes it off to enjoy. A steady lick over the warm prize eliciting several loud grunts from the crowd. The guard hilt deep inside slapping his legs to bring them farther apart. The toy consumes another mouthful, letting the bitter notes dance on his taste buds while panting to invite another guard over.
The finished user backs off with the crotch armor and disappears into the throng. One already in line, John smirks as he cleans his face with both hands while the new guard jerks off. A throbbing length already leaking and flush when he sticks out his tongue for it to slip inside as he swallows easier this time.
A huff from above, the slit tickles his vocal cords before he can gasp at the sudden emptiness in his ass. Or smile when hot come shoots over his bare back and down the crack. His hips move as he grasps the thighs in front and bobs his head, gazing into the visage of the uncaring helmet that overlooks his work.
A palm on his skull makes him stop as feet move behind him. His stare still on the guard when the shaft pops out and leaks, heavy drops hitting his forehead as a hand strokes the tip. His lips remain parted when a pair of gloves grab his waist and glans tease his hole. Then he's full and bouncing again, grunting as the cock overhead remains just out of reach.
"Please..." he moans as fingers find his taint and he drools onto the floor. "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck....!"
A cock slap to the face shuts him up. Blinks of surprise keep the filthy prize from getting into an eye, and his cheeks grow a deep, flushed red. A few more hard slaps open his lips. A last one on the mouth to work the entire length before the shaft returns to the warmth of his throat. A loud animalistic grunt is heard overhead when this guard rejoins the other fucking his ass, while more seem to stalk closer. The mindlessness of it all bathing the toy in bliss as the guard buries his nose in the hot skin above the shaved base. Spine bending with every thrust into his holes. His eyes swirling and mind dumb when the fog becomes almost as thick as in the office today. The pain is much better, though, when he hears a dull thump off to the side and long claws stab into the thin skin by his circle. A moan shows he feels the fingers grip his sides and wants more. John knows it bleeds, but he hardly cares. Pulling off to breathe, the human looks over a shoulder and smiles.
"What are you—" stopping to purr at the missing armor.
The clawed hands holding tight are not a surprise, but what's under the missing helmet is. A pleasant surprise, but one nonetheless. All of the security he's not blowing have removed the headgear, but John couldn't find a reason to mind when these users have him lick his lips and his cock twitch. He's at a loss for what makes his body ache for them to do worse, but he has some ideas.
Was it the way they have forms similar to a marauder, but are not quite the same? Or the way John can see the long, tall pupils that watch him get fucked? Maybe that they are almost human like the zombies, but long teeth fill mouths too wide for the humanoid skulls. Perhaps it was the glowing red eyes and strange deathly complexion of a fresh corpse. Or the fact that each has smaller horns that extend forward from their temples out of the leathery hide?
John gazes at the unexpected look for just a second. Then he beams and leans backward, planting his ass on the thick shaft again. The head stretches his hole when he circles his hips and asks who was going to tell him, loved demons like that. None of the monsters reply, and he laughs, bringing a hand to his cock.
"Come on..." John whispers, fisting the other guard's dick to lick the slit. "Don't know why you hid that from me. Love when someone makes it hurt."
Both arms pumping, he hisses as claws create new wounds on his cheeks. The demon behind taking over while the still masked user teaches him to stay quiet. A rough kiss forced onto the tip, John feels it slither inside like a tongue. Claws rake over his shoulders to gain a proper grip on his throat. The hold tightens when he stares at the glowing helmet. Tears well up in his eyes as he is lost in the light of the visor. The white and pink almost blinding as he cannot breathe. Even when the cock leaves and smacks him a few times, John's head spins as his airway remains sealed by the guard's chokehold. The marine mouths words to let him stop; he needs air. Nails claw at the armor. The shaft returns to stretch his jaws and show how low the man truly is.
This hole was not for air. Not until he earned that.
And when John does, the tears run down his cheeks and neck. His mouth opens to suck in air as come covers the mess already on his face and lands in the bruised hole. The toy sobs as his body jostles around and he falls forward. Hot jizz hits the back of his head and nape, sides heaving while he sees his dick throb. Then his hand strokes the finished user, and he thanks the guards for the gifted seed.
The word strange on his tongue, he still smiles as he scoops some on his fingers and utilizes the warm lube on his dick, begging another to ruin him as he gets pulled backward. The girth conquers his guts when he screams at the luscious come shooting deep inside. Spine curving over the cold metal, he can't hold off his orgasm and finishes with the guard. This time, he can enjoy the show he puts on for the crowd, moaning so hard that his throat stings. The mind-wiping power of this orgasm so much more satisfying when he remains awake, spilling thick globs onto the floor.
But the release is not enough; he keeps touching his body as the lust remains high. The dying twitches of the second round were a signal for the rest to do more. There had to be at least... twenty more. Oh fuck, he would need twice that. No, triple...
Fuck, was he counting that right?
Who cares. John would not be calmed. He needed to be destroyed.
A groan when pushed to the ground, he keeps his legs spread and his hole agape with his hands. The rude reminder that he didn't have the privilege of taking a break repeating when a new pair finds his ass and claims the spot. A chuckle as both grind on his thighs and globes, the toy howls with laughter when a third doesn't wait and growls as if to challenge the other two. But none protest, and John stays bent over as he tells them all to start. They had all the time they wanted, but he wasn't going to wait.
And like a powerful poison, he finds it impossible to move when they consume him. Wide mouths and sharp claws grab what they can to press him into the armor over their bodies. John's flesh was wet clay to be moved and rolled and manipulated. Dirty and useful when all hear him grunt with the slap of flesh and slick cocks, skin sticky from where they stained him with come and blood. The bruises on his neck grow bigger to reach his shoulders when long fingers again choke and shake the toy. A grunt heard from above when his face is flattened to almost swallow the sac after a few good thrusts. Spitting and coughing when given more mercy to breathe before he almost passes out this round.
But all it does is give him air to hiss when the two fucking his ass dig into the small of his back and drag claws down his hips. His body screams to stop while glans hurry down his throat. John ignores the pain when he couldn't see anything through the mass of white and gray all around. When he can open his eyes. A few seconds of light every once in a while does little to help.
What does help are the shared groans when they come inside his holes. The shared orgasm when they all shoot together makes his belly bulge like John was a breeder, every inch of his guts feeling claimed. The man wriggling as his guts swell like a baby was in there. A pull from his legs and head begging them to stop when his stomach hurts.
But they don't stop. No, they pin him to their bodies despite his behavior. The pulses of their cocks push on his walls already drenched in seed, telling the organs to stretch even more. The flesh yielding with effort like he had binged an entire feast. A few thrusts to make sure they were empty, the trio abandon the toy with loud squelches and groans. Left alone and agape to stand on his own after so long. A slow rock to keep his balance, his distended belly is a boast of his true limits to the guards.
Falling to the ground, John rubs his stomach and sways, staring at how his muscles stretch and bloat, becoming rounded and deformed as the loads swirl in his guts. The seed churning as if something was growing in there… Biting his lip at the sight, the seedy baby bump feels so right—the lord of Hell's threat repeating in his mind again. The promise to give him a womb and fill it until he was pregnant reaffirmed as Davoth sounds more and more certain with every invocation.
And while the swollen protruding navel does not last, it's still enough time for him to paint a clear picture in his brain. The perfect opening for the circle to resume its sensual influence. The spell reminding him how much the Slayer got used because he accepted the lord's offer. He accepted the endowment—embraced the gift to create life, not just watch it happen. Then it points out all the numerous occasions that the other marine ended up fucked and held close afterward. How often the Slayer was taken to Davoth's office for an afternoon of rough sex and praise. The lord rewards the real breeder with endless possibilities of pleasure for letting royal seed grow inside him.
Oh fuck, imagine if he did that too… He would experience the same wonderful treatment. If he can just show the heirs' virile sire that he could also handle a real fetus…
John's swollen body fat with a baby and the endless love of the lord... His body soft and easy to grab, Davoth whispering how beautiful he was. How his body was made to carry an heir, a hand feeling his round belly while given a chance to add another. Or two...
But for now, the clank of metal boots brings his attention back to the sad reality. Without the one thing he craved, John will survive with the guards for now. A new pair walk over, both kneeling to sniff his gaping rim. One bends to clean some of the mess from around the entrance with long swipes of a tongue. A flinch when teeth scrape over his thighs, he places a hand on the nearest horn when they pinch the skin. Soft whines to stop only urges the guard to return and let the other join in, gliding their tongues through the mess. John howls when they plunge into the loose muscle and wrench open his legs. A loud laugh from somewhere in the crowd tells the toy that this is what they wanted. The toy is their temporary possession.
The wriggling tongues then pull out as both demons sit up, and the first guard rolls him over. A palm keeping him on his back as the user slips inside, he sees a new cock towering over his panting hole as the second takes his mouth. Jaws parted, his head is turned to have his chin upside down and horizontal as the slit lines up with his lips. Then strong hands fist his throat for a fat rod to abuse his face like he would get pregnant from the effort alone.
Someone grabs his dick. After he tries to touch himself, of course. An arm reaching for the length, a crushing grip shuts down that nonsense. None appreciating his decision to have control. A growl at the attempt, both arms are pulled away for more to join in and ensure his idle hands remain busy. Double fisting cocks, the guards know there are other ways to find release. Some happy with their own grip for now, others see there's more of his body to offer friction. Nothing but hellspawn and the crack of thunder in the distance to focus on outside his lustful urges, he's no better than a mindless creature. His motions are controlled and his thoughts are impossible to sustain when a sharp pain stabs his ass, and he screams on the girth currently slamming the deepest parts of his throat.
A circle of lust stands tall in all directions while he ends up covered in come. Like the rain he should be expecting from the storm, orgasms pelt John's skin and the surrounding floor. Hisses and moans come from all around, much like the guards. Anything that was left untouched before is now dirty and soaked beyond a simple cleaning. The toy stained from head to foot, inside and out.
Blind and deaf and more useless than his brain right now, he rises and looks at the waiting outer ring. The stupid grin on his lips almost painful after that last facefuck, he asks despite his sore throat, "Whose next ?"
***
The Slayer reaches for the hell priest's skirt. The ritual so ingrained in his mind his arm moves before he can acknowledge the collar had taken over. His lips parted, he gives a pleading look that should have the holy man fucking him this second. The high-ranked user is waiting; the priest deserves to go first. He was told to enjoy them; he had to want this.
But Grav has restraint the Slayer could never possess. Not when like this. The sacred leader grabbing the thicker wrist, he pulls the strong arm away. Little convincing is required when under this stone's enchantment, the Slayer staring as the fingers touch his face.
"You have not done your duty, breeder," says Grav. "Service the Gladiator and the barons until they have no more to fill you with. If they are not empty and calm, you are not done."
The order does not require the other to answer; the way the Slayer jumps to his feet is enough. The portal appearing just behind him to drop down and land in the sand and ash. The air thick with the smell of fire and a sweltering heat, he turns to see the five he was assigned to serve. All looking at him with glowing eyes while panting and palming long, heavy cocks. The Slayer smiles and opens his arms, watching as they all hurry forward. The fireborne barons stay a step back when the Gladiator stands over. The biggest of them all, its power is unquestioned when it squats and grunts, a flick of the finger telling the breeder to start. Which he does by ripping his clothes to shreds as he takes sharp breaths, his tired body moving with little care to flimsy fabric and useless boots.
Laid bare to all among the ash, the Gladiator seems to smirk by opening its mouth so the corners rise. Lowering even more, it stays on hands and feet as a dull thump brings the Slayer's attention to the massive fucking cock the demon possesses. The man's smile only wavers until he fully acknowledges the painfully huge length. A quick bite of the lip met with a snort from the Gladiator. The girth was worse than most in the palace, but the Slayer was ready to endure every foot after getting wonderfully punished by the bruiser and his lord.
So the Slayer drops to his knees and crawls over, hugging the hefty shaft that feels as thick as his thigh when pregnant. The front of his torso grinds on the girth, his chest and stomach clinging to the hot glans as his dick rubs on the head. A low rumble comes from the demon as he caresses the base, a small twitch encouraging the breeder to run a hand along the underside while the Gladiator bends its hips. Slow sways cause the Slayer to hum when the length grows hard, something wet drenching his shins when the titanic user sits.
The slit poking at his knees, the slayer releases the fat cock and sits back, legs parted when he speaks. The words a simple "Fuck me", it's effective at spurring the other. The Gladiator on top before he can repeat the order. The heavy weight of the biggest demon is so wonderful when it crushes the breeder's body and keeps him pinned in the dirt.
A palm sufficient to keep him fully immobile, he just stares at the sheer size of this special hellish creature. Twice his height and broad enough to shelter him from the gray skies, he cannot believe he never got to meet this one sooner. The Slayer shudders when the shaft slips under the palm and presses against his ribs. Hot breaths blow on his face as the tip manipulates his breasts for friction. His skin already sweating, he parts his legs and lifts his knees, hugging the girth as it constricts his own.
But this seems to be the wrong choice, and the Gladiator growls. A roar in his ear, the Slayer's flipped onto his belly as a hand shoves him into the dirt. The oppressive mass once more pinning him to the ground, he struggles to turn his head before the top slips between his thighs, and he whimpers. Neither moving, the breeder holds his breath as a warmth coats his thighs.
Only to scream because the Gladiator finds his hole. There is no waiting or care when entering—just as hell spawn should act—as the demon claims another in the arena. The pain was far more appreciated this time while he hollers at the heavy shaft ripping his ass apart and crushing the entire tract to his stomach. Then keeps going as his body endures this with pure greed, like with every creature that came inside him before. The glans punching at his lungs and heart when he gags and cannot moan. Drool spilling down his chin as he feels impossibly full. An heir about to be delivered could never come close to the feeling of this giant cock. Not even the bruiser was this bad. But oh fuck, the Slayer did not want it to stop.
His body seems to deflate when the head returns to only fill his rim. The way back out is just as straightforward and quick; the man's spine straightens, and his lungs inflate when there's room again. The Slayer is surprised that his diaphragm could bend like that, but he just coughs as he laughs and sucks in air. His sides shaking when the muscles again bend, and he is silenced anew. Wide eyes stare up as he grunts, the air forced out when the glans separate his ribs. The weight grows heavier, the Gladiator snorting as his ass lifts to bury the hilt. Fisting some ash, he beams as a long exhale blows over his face with a long retreat right after. A shared groan echoes when he rolls his hips around the top. Drool running down his chin, the Slayer still knows to enjoy all he can as the demon seems to speak, and moves the hand to hold his pelvis. The grasp loosens as the Gladiator sinks back in, and he asks if that was what it wanted. A soft sound is an adequate confirmation as the arm pulls him closer and lets more slip inside.
"Fuck..."
A slight pain was not enough to stop the pressure on his prostate from having an effect. A long moan escapes when he reaches for his cock and finds the fingers prevent him. A slow grind in the dirt for some relief met with a fingertip on his spine as the Gladiator sits up and squats over him.
The breeder staring over a shoulder, he smiles and says, "Use both hands. Fuck me right."
The Gladiator opens its mouth for a moment, then pauses, as if it finally understood what he said. With a loud purr, it tightens the hold on his hips while grabbing at his rib cage. A squelch and pop come from behind as the Slayer gets pulled off, the man groaning as his tunnel clings to the tip. A sound from the watching barons draws the Gladiator's attention while it flips him over. The four lesser demons show off their weapons, but a snap at their faces has the creatures back away. A sound of triumph having the Gladiator's tongue stick out again as the human grins and praises the true authority with a purr and parted legs.
A shout from the Slayer has the watching demons perk up as his attitude shifts. Not reaching as deep as before, the starved Gladiator shoves him on the erect length like it was trying to break in a new toy. The rough and uneven thrusts were not as bad as some who used him. But fuck, the lack of a mattress or throne or solid floor... his body needed it.
A stomach-stretching punch has his eyes snap to the head-sized mound pushing on his abs. His gaze locks to the spot as a few more rattle his spine, and his neck snaps farther each time. A huff and two fingers split his legs, the large digits keeping them in a straight line for the heavy sac to hide his ass.
"Oh—" he gasps when the shaft slips out. Thick drops land on his bush, soaking his groin. Another gasp, and the Slayer smiles. "Don't stop..."
The Gladiator purrs and lines up with the hole, already inside when it roars to the skies and fucks him. The demon's hips move while its arms pump the breeder on its cock. His muscles taut and stretched around the girth, the Slayer is thankful the Gladiator pants hard in his ear as his dick leaks into the massive hand from the sound alone. His eyes rolling and head bouncing wildly around, he only sees the ash and glow of the fireborn barons that stay close to the ground.
Then a couple step closer and the Gladiator growls. One responds by grabbing the Slayer's skull and yelling at the bigger monster. The thrusts going faster now that he's kept steady. The breeder groans as he feels every inch of the length bruising his intestines. More shouting and sharp words from the pair while his throat tightens. The Slayer groans and bends his knees, the head crushing his liver. The large fingers on his neck wrenching it to the side for a very bright cock to appear just in his peripheral vision.
Oh fuck... yes...
A roar ends the fight, the barons stepping aside when the Gladiator stops just below his stomach and unleashes its load into the empty organ. The torrent of come is enough to make his guts scream, his belly inflating as if he were pregnant with an entire litter. His limits are put to the test, and his stomach opens from both ends before he can beg to pull out. The rush that comes next is a blur as the Gladiator lets go for another pulse to fling him off into the sand. A grunt when he lands, more shoots to conceal his back with hot ropes as he moans, his ass open and agape in the air. A few more splatter on the hole for extra show, the Slayer just rubs his stomach as it swirls like the vessel was expecting again. Hips swaying as he struggles to keep his balance, his other hand finds it difficult to find traction in the thick dust.
But none of the demons care about that when the leader kicks him over and flicks its cock across his face, covering his mouth with a little more. The Slayer licking it clean as he wonders if it's done, showing extra care to the head in an attempt to sway the Gladiator. But it just wipes the slit through his hair, as if making sure it was spotless. Then the beast fixes its armor and stomps off, taking the mace and shield as it walks toward the nearest tunnel and exits the arena.
The four fireborn only wait a few seconds before they move in. The group conveys just how impatient each is as they circle the breeder. Wide steps cause their cocks to swing, almost boasting the hot shafts that hang by their knees. The same lava-like glow as the cracks in their stony skin, they throb as the demons lean in and stare at his swollen belly. A couple sniffing the come-inflated organs, the other two grunt to each other and step closer.
The Slayer, smiling at the attention, sits up with some effort. Though he sways and has to catch himself, falling on his hands when his knees buckle. Sat in the dirt panting as he shivers, the absence of body heat making the air as cold as a deadly winter.
Something sets a demon off. The first baron bites at his face and grabs his neck, slamming him to the ground. A sound of confusion at the rough treatment, it punches him in the stomach multiple times. One, two, three, four. Five strikes in a row. A sixth, as if to be sure. It's more than enough for him to spill the Gladiator's gift into the dirt as the rest watch. The Slayer has a feeling that the loss to the higher-ranked fighter was from this baron, and he messed up with his display. They are going to be rough now…
A moan slips out as bile burns the back of his throat, a shaking hand touching the forming bruise on his stomach. The Slayer is next forced to kneel before the attacker as he wipes his mouth, a crushing grip dragging the breeder to his rightful place before the riled baron. His voice soft so as to not irritate it too soon, he asks if he should apologize for something, needs to do this right. The new leader grabs his neck and brings him between its glowing horns. The Slayer nods and parts his lips, sticking out his tongue.
In seconds, he's face-to-face with the orange head of this creature's cock, the flesh warming the hole when his jaws stretch over the top. Despite the extra heat, the Slayer always found this type of demon pleasant. Giving a fireborne baron a blowjob was like pleasuring a stone warmed by a big fire. The soothing sensation always felt so good on his throat if he had others with more pressing needs beforehand. This time was just as nice when his lungs breathe normally for a while. A push on his skull, he fists the bottom as he directs all of his oral attention to the top. Low huffs from above, he listens to the others produce sounds with their mouths and cocks, his legs spreading a little more for the watchers. The hum of several barons enjoying his attitude loud and clear when he pulls off and strokes the leader while drooling on a palm to finger his ass.
The squelch of the come and spit draws a beast to the hole. The hot tongue of a greedy demon indicates who wants to erase any evidence of the true ruler from their turn. A purr and his hand resting on a horn, he opens his lips for the one in front to push him all the way down to the hilt. Both ends are full when heated shafts plug him shut and his body goes limp. With the push of a button in his prostate and his brain flickering from holding his breath, his mind shuts off in an instant. More useless than after the Gladiator finished with him, the lack of sleep takes its toll as his eyelids droop.
The front baron pulls him off so his tongue flops around as he pants for air, the demon lifting him when he sinks to the ground. The tight grip on his chin is all that lets the tip remain secure as the cock nestles in a cheek. A tired smile as he gives slow licks over a vein, the Slayer moans when the monster devouring his hole raises its head and sits up, lifting his ass to slip a fiery slit over his entrance. A hum is the best he can muster. The bigger hands raise his hips so both cheeks hug the thick base. The last poke done with more power, it jostles the man enough to swallow the one in charge before the other slips inside. Kept in place for the first body-shaking thrust, the girth snakes deeper down the hole when the front baron joins in and the Slayer holds on.
There's not much else he can do when the large hooves threaten to stomp on him if he moves. The leader—more pent-up than most he had been used by before—snorts and growls as it leans forward and bends both knees to reach past his throat. The Slayer's nose so deep in the flesh he would scream if he wasn't being suffocated. The fact that the other was doing its best to match speeds only adds to the growing lust. Such wild grunts go so well with the Slayer's battered body as he claws his fingers in the dirt and his cheeks cling to the base. The hold he has on it so tight his tongue clings to the shaft when it pulls out. Crossed eyes and a sloppy grin the perfect signs to just how far the breeder was mentally gone before he's wrenched back down to get back to a messy blowjob. His head bobbing so fast his eyes roll in their sockets and tears stream down his face. A few huffs punctuate hard blows when the pair grab their ends and ram into him at the same time. Shaking their legs when so deep, each roars at their competition as they try to get more of the pliant vessel. Grabbing and tugging, they punch and pound each other as the Slayer is knocked around. He is too tired to even laugh when the one behind overpowers the assumed leader and climbs all the way on top. A low rumble that almost sounds like a word hitting the breeder's ears as he tenses.
Then regrets it when he clenches down on the hot flesh and screams. A horrible punch to his rim, he can't stop himself from making it worse when the baron gives a few quick bucks into his ass. His body now a mess as he could not move if he tried. Or say much when the load fills his belly once more. The mound smaller this round, the Slayer doesn't care. It feels so good.
It nevertheless jiggles when he is tossed aside for the other to return, accepting its consolation prize of marking the breeder second. The demon exhales and picks up the Slayer by the throat, its cock throbbing and leaking harder than before. The large shaft slips between his legs and right under his hole. A slow blink tells it to finish this already.
"Fuck…" the Slayer hisses as the little air in his lungs escapes, his knees lifting to better sit on the head. A silent moan parts the Slayer's lips while his hands grab the forearm holding him up. A leer at the demon, the man falters when he cannot latch on for long, and his arms fall away.
The baron sees this and licks its lips. Then shoves him to the ground to cover its prize from the waiting two. Fists on his neck and wrist, the Slayer watches while his dick jumps with every thrust. A wild panting in his ear, he stares at the gray skies as he feels each time he's filled. The dumbest grin spreads across the Slayer's face, his head rolling to the side as his eyelids grow heavy.
And as with all successful brood-boars, he perks up a little when a loud groan thunders throughout the arena. The baron slamming a fist into the dirt as it slams inside. The grip on his arm tightens. The Slayer remains still for the demon as it empties into him, thick seed swirling in his guts. His stomach swells more and more as he bites his lip, his eyes closed for a minute.
All is quiet as the baron yanks its cock out and stomps off with a smug huff. With both of them missing, the man can't even find the energy to sit up as his hard work shows itself to the world, and he goes limp. The ground drenched from both users' come gushing out when the breeder's muscles go lax. His hands too weak to push himself up when the world shakes.
The Slayer listens as the other two walk over and pick him up, his spine sagging as he says to hold him right or hold him down. This pair responds by having his back pressed onto the chest of one baron with the other's. The Slayer, sandwiched between the two demons, warms himself in the soft glow from their skin. They prove they are more willing to work together, both huffing with prods at the inside of his legs. The hardening cocks soon slip up towards his ass as they leave a wet trail along his inner thighs. The excitement as hot as their glans, the large girths slide in without much work. The way is far too open and agape to even think of asking to go slow. A reliable breeder is untroubled when there is no reason to quit after the first harsh thrusts half bury the cocks inside him. And he doesn't whine when they are hilt deep in record time. The fact that they drill his tunnel with matched speeds and identical groans is not ignored, but also not important to him.
Nor does the Slayer mind when they create a mound above his navel and his head rolls to the side. A shared grunt sounds like a signal for the brood-stallion when they wrench his legs up and get that much more room to further compress his organs. The Slayer smiles at the consideration, thanking both when they let him breathe. His words getting choppy when they buck their hips to make him bounce his ass and cock.
A few grunts at first as they try to stay in sync, the two figure it out quickly for the breeder. He responds with quick words and cries to keep going. Can't stop. His cock needed to come too. The smooth stone hurts, but he could not give a fuck. There were worse things that he could endure instead. Like not getting shot full of seed by them both. A shudder when the Slayer fists his shaft, he wraps an arm around the neck of the baron behind as he keeps his body steady. The grip on the demon tightens when they press closer together. Neither letting him resist when they bring him down with their combined force and he screams.
The Slayer howling like a crazed beast when both keep the same ferocity going forward. His back bends to ease them in but the barons ignore his efforts. The pain was only a message to behave and stop pleading for mercy when he was getting what he wanted. The barons showing why he should be thankful for using him with a few quick bucks. The shafts punching his prostate, they somehow strike at the same time. With a yell, the Slayer grabs a horn. Lips parted, yet no words come out. His eyes busy rolling back into his skull while his fist tightens around the bone not to shake around wildly. The very fact that he touches the pair at the same time makes his skin electric. The tight space sends bolts of lightning to his fingers so they clench harder. His hole doing the same when he jerks on his cock and yells, finally shooting all over the one in front as he tells them to fuck him harder. The horn in hand whips away as both roar at the sight of the Slayer bucking his hips over the stone, ropes smacking the one baron on the chin. Then he's fully seated on the hilts with another howl. This final punch to his prostate proving there was still plenty left in his balls when a few ropes paint the demon's face. The Slayer sinking impossibly lower for the last to dribble on his bush. A long inhale shaking his sides as he fights to breathe.
The barons rumble as the one hit licks the mess off, glaring when a blade unsheathes by the Slayer's cheek. A single sound said before the weapon sheathes, and the vessel offers a sheepish grin. He tries to provide an excuse, but a hand grabs his jaw to cover his mouth. A yell in the distance echoes down onto the battleground, and the Slayer turns toward the thrones. His skull snapped back to hear a purr, the lines under his eyes deepen. A slow lift off the cocks feeling like a great warning not to see what happens next.
But the Slayer cannot say if that helped. At the very top and about ready to slip off the head, he still screams when the next attack hurts like the Gladiator. And he cannot form a single coherent thought when the ideas instantly turn into incomprehensible noise. The fog is too thick, too fast-moving while his mind is flooded with nothing but a wave of pure electricity. The breeder begs for them to not stop as his voice grows hoarse, his throat tearing when his abs almost rip apart from the mound stretching his belly. The man could handle more than that. Screaming it to the arena to really rile the demons.
But his body disagrees with this enthusiasm and shows it with the next punch to the guts. The severe beating to his hole taking its toll, he throws his head back and chokes on the words that clog his throat. A last blow to his diaphragm all it requires for the man to collapse in the shared hold. Head down and body limp as something scalding gushes into his belly. The breeder's ass coated in seed as the corners of his vision dim. The full length from his ass to belly scalding hot from the first pump. A true and fitting ending when the Slayer's stomach concedes to such a force and fully opens again. More hot globs hit his tongue and gush out, coating his jaws with the prize when his face falls forward. A groan allowing more to spill down his chin while more ropes fill up the space.
So much… Fuck...
A hard smack brings him back, the ash and dust of the arena gone for something more solid. The dirty fighting ring now replaced by the cold of the stone box above. A few loud grunts direct his attention to the familiar sounds of pleased demons and a good toy. The circle of guards shifts as he sits up, the pale faces of hell-blessed creatures staring as the Slayer gets to his feet and smiles at the new creatures asking to fuck him.
Arms raised, the bigger marine asks where he belongs. A few hands grab and drag the breeder into the midst. Then push him to the floor, the Slayer once more beside a shaking John. The smaller man a fucked, dirty, panting mess, the other can see he is covered in bruises and bloody wounds. The toy fights to stay upright as a cock pops out of his mouth and come hits his bleeding chest. The load slipping down his sticky pink body, another guard yanks on his head to shoot into his drenched hair. The locks already so saturated they have started turning white. A titter at the reward, he hangs by his scalp to endure a prolonged orgasm.
And the Slayer cannot stop himself from beaming at the sight as a few of the demons grow incensed at his leering. His eyes not leaving the sight, he only turns when something hard stabs his cheek. A knowing look at the impatient guard, he has two dealt with before they can show their full displeasure. The weight of another on his spine draws him into the middle of things as he hears Grav somewhere in the crowd. The priest telling the group to let the two feast and drink their fill. Both needed this, or they would lose their minds.
A sharp stab into the Slayer's ass has the marine groan, and Grav adds such sounds must mean this breeder was ready for a new heir, complimenting how passionate he would be when the guards proved him ready. And without hesitation, the Slayer moans at the praise, calling the holy man over. A laugh at an offer to bend over for the priest gets Grav to send more guards, saying he was going to be perfect. The Slayer smiles as something warm lands on the nape of his neck, and he hurries to jerk that one off. The hungry vessel's mind going blank as he works at proving Grav correct.
His eyelids are a little less heavy when he finds himself lying on his back. The stone overhead mesmerizes what little of his brain can still think as armor presses on his chest, and a guard climbs on top. The first thrust having him open his legs for the demons above to watch and drip onto the soft skin. Biting his lip as the cock fills him just right, and they can have all of him.
***
The marines are not sure why they are put into the Gladiator's cage. But they can guess after the guards clean them up, push them inside the large space, and slam the door shut to make a hasty retreat. The two take one look at the Gladiator and run across the demon's bedchamber, calling for the prized fighter's cock despite being exhausted. The massive beast flashes its fangs at the men, snatching both to have them pleasure it with some effort on the floor. The leather straps great to hold onto, the Slayer fills himself on the heavy shaft while the more breakable toy lays with his ass to the monster's waiting maw. A pained groan from both humans, the demon slides its tongue into the corporal's hole while slamming the breeder on its cock. One moaning as his ass barely stays intact, while the other begs for it to not be so rough. None of their cries heard, both men are abused until they stop complaining. The dark halls outside filling with screams until it finishes. A snort when the two drool at its virility, the Gladiator lets both slide off with a lazy huff.
The pair are told they did a good job when it spreads its hairy legs and plays with the sac. The hefty shaft swinging around for both to take care of the mess while the user pants. Fast licks and a few kisses on the head when they finish, it pushes them aside and sprawls across a massive mattress in the corner. The mace and shield hang overhead on the wall as if loyal sentries, watching the enchanted marines as they stare at the flaccid prize still wet with spit.
But once the Gladiator snores and the cage opens for the guards to safely enter, the marines are freed of the lust and allowed to wash themselves this time. Fresh leggings left for the men as they find the farthest corner and huddle together with their eyes on the sleeping beast.
The cage door sealed with a set of chains, the Slayer knows this was always the plan when he sees blue runes in the metal loops. With a growl at his luck, the man pulls on his pants and gets ready to spend who knows how long with the sated Gladiator. Bracing for the moment it wakes up, and he has to act again.
John shifts next to him. Pulling the leggings up to cover most of the circle, his eyes scan the massive body of the demon. Then he turns to the Slayer and says, "I don't want to be a reward."
"Huh?"
"I'm sick of this. I thought you were a prized breeder. We shouldn't be forced to do any of this. Why are we being passed around like a fresh bowl? Shouldn't your position have some protection from this shit?"
"Always have. Done this. Most can't hurt me. So…"
"A weapon is right there. Couldn't you lift it?"
"Then what? There are chains on the cage."
"You can't break through?"
"We'd be heard by the Gladiator… If it worked at all."
"Fuck!" his full chest put into the word as he punches a wall. The corporal then quickly sliding deeper into the shadows when the Gladiator rolls over, its legs splayed as a hand reaches toward the mace. His voice almost a whisper as the monster lets the arm fall back down, and he adds, "Maybe I should have stayed in the family business. Wouldn't have changed much at this point. Less being fucked over, though."
"You ever going to explain? Said something during delivery. Davoth mentioned a college midwife?"
"Do you still care?"
"You mentioned it. When I was giving birth. Multiple times. Promised to explain before that. During the play date at the mansion."
"Damn, I assumed you forgot after the baby came."
The Slayer growls, and John continues.
"Most marines don't give a shit about my boring past—or joked around, acted like the whole story is weird. But yeah, fine, said I would.
"After my state banned impermanent contraceptives, my grandparents started a midwifery clinic to deal with the sudden demand a few months later. Both were doctors, but enjoyed the less formal setting. A lot of people came in from all over, so they stayed in business without much trouble. My parents took over after they retired, and not much has changed. In fact, we're raising the fourth generation right now."
"Huh," is all the Slayer can say. The warrior looking at his hands as so many incidents start to make sense—like all those odd comments about pregnancy symptoms when the Slayer was still carrying El. Guess John had done more than just study the subject because he wanted to help out friends in the past, or had good schooling like he hinted at before. Looking back at the corporal, he asks, "Whole family does it?"
"Pretty much," smiling as he leans back. "My birth was a lesson for my cousins on their first water break. Did the same thing for the oldest before helping deliver the twins."
"Sounds interesting. Not boring often."
"You meet and see so many things, that's for sure. Meet plenty of new people, but you also experience a lot of strange events. But makes passing health class so easy."
"So like… condoms? Do you..."
"Never saw one before I joined the Navy. Nice for clean up and all that. Shame I couldn't use them sooner in the back of the truck during college."
"And for families? Like, you know, getting big."
"Listen, if the kid is formed and growing, what are you supposed to do? Sell the baby? Send it downriver in a bag? Can't just take a pill unless it's a failure. Come on, Slayer, we learn that in school."
"What kind of land did you live in?" seeing how the man frowns at his question. The Slayer getting a sinking feeling that John's queries were not completely rhetorical. But now was not the moment to correct him.
Guess Davoth didn't want a repeat of the Slayer's filicide streak. To go that far just to make sure there could be nothing to encourage such behavior again… Is that why John only tried to get rid of the fetus once by beating it to death? It lined up with this revelation. The lord's oracle was more thorough than the warrior assumed.
John answers so the Slayer looks up, his voice defensive as he crosses his arms. "I'm from a land that is free and with more choice than other worlds. According to you."
"Literally born for this…"
The words are flat when it feels, for once, literal. No longer left wondering, all of the answers click into place. A chill now going down the Slayer's spine as he realizes Davoth actively planned for him to never receive the help he needed from John. Not from anything Davoth cares about—or can't easily correct. Just like his argent-forged blade two lives ago. Or his first attempt with the shotgun... Only being isolated with John prevented a third try. The corporal was never going to do more than hold his hand while he pushed out the next baby. And now, the Slayer is certain that, no matter what he says, John would never think of doing a thing to an unwanted heir. Not until it was too late and the child escaped the womb.
And not before the lord, or any demons nearby, heard him just mention the idea of such an act. The lord would fix his attitude about carrying another child, and then impregnate him with an entire brood. The entire situation leads to a perfect self-sabotage that ensures happy and healthy heirs. That last pregnancy cementing their roles without them even trying to stop it.
What else would Davoth do to assure the Slayer never escapes this breeder role?
The warrior asks the same out loud, and the corporal rests his chin on a knee and sighs.
But John does have an answer. His voice low as he replies, "Not much that he hasn't already said outright. Fucker is one possessive bastard. Can't wait to dump his body at the bottom of the ocean. Or in a volcano."
"Think about that often?"
"Yeah," he says, gazing at his feet as he stands and walks over to the door. John crosses his arms and looks at the chains, scanning the runes with dark eyes while whispering, "Davoth really thinks he's going to win this. We are escaping this Hell. One way or another."
The Slayer nods, sensing none of the energy from when John stated it that first time on Mars. The promise to kill all the demons in Hell no longer coming from the other's lips.
Though the Slayer still says, "One day. Get rid of the circle. Maybe the collar too."
"Why would you say that? Of course we are destroying the collar. Is it hard to take off or something?"
"No. Just hope you never, never, never witness what happens. I've tried choking Davoth without it on. Killed Khan Maykr after that."
"Well damn, that kinda makes me want it off even more."
"No. I could kill you. Would love every moment."
"I mean..."
"Do not."
"I know, I know. But uh... Does the collar give you certain ideas? Like, beyond the constant stream of thought centered around being fucked by anything that moves. Or the overwhelming need to kill? Like when it activates, I mean."
"What do you mean?"
"Pregnancy thoughts? Did you ever have them?"
The Slayer furrows his brows, scanning the other's face for anything but the fear in his eyes and a deep frown. His words careful when he replies, "Breeding, yes. Pregnancy? Only with Davoth. After two heirs."
"Are you sure?"
"Mostly. Maybe with a user. Long ago. For their fantasy. Too many to recall."
"Yeah, makes sense. Yeah, yeah. Then I'm sure it means nothing."
"Explain," the warrior soon standing over John so his back is to the blocked exit. "Means something to me."
"Well, it does involve Davoth…"
+The Father's Testament #668 - After the great betrayer's defeat
she was stripped of her armor and hung from the towers that
once housed her people; her rotting corpse left to feed the dying race she destroyed entire worlds
to keep eternal. Her name now a curse, her legacy gone with her final breath,
her body was their final desperate hope.
The lost and mindless Maykrs left behind feasted upon her
as they begged their true creator for mercy. But he turned his back as they did
to him ages ago. Their calls to the Father unheard as the false god
they foraged from his life sphere remained missing.
And with the last of her kind gone, the fallen night sentinels were ordered to feast
upon their corpses. The race that they betrayed their own realm for left to decay, their flesh
now a rotting feast for starved scavengers.
Once enemies to their only hope, the long-defiled warriors
cry to unhearing bones,
then their true ruler. His reign forever, all bow
to their everlasting Father. The Lord of Hell their only king
as they promise unending loyalty like
the marauders did long ago.
The battle for Hell ends as they accept
The Dark Lord's divine gift in the
Divinity machine.
No longer knights for the fallen king or Khan Maykr, they became something
far more holy and pure—that of the divine—stripped of their
mortal flesh as lost souls.
The past they fought to maintain forgotten,
reborn for the true Father's will,
forced to swear loyalty to the
Eternal master like the demons they once fought.
Notes:
With the new prequel out, I am not going to use it for any references, so no spoiler or anything from me. If there are any coincidences, I blame it on seeing the trailer and it seeping into my subconscious.
I have now added the 'mind break' and 'hypersexualized trauma response' to the tags.
Finished outlining, so I am saying 32 chapters right now because that is where I ended it (I am currently 400 pages into the actual document), but I am debating adding another that would be just pure smut (physical and emotional). I only hesitate because it would be fluffier than the rest of the story, but is related to the ending (no noncon, but still some breeding talk and rougher stuff like before). Oh well, we will see~
Leninova1997 on Chapter 1 Sat 27 May 2023 09:57AM UTC
Last Edited Sat 27 May 2023 09:59AM UTC
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