Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Wit whistled appreciatively as he walked into his bedroom. Kaladin Stormblessed was lounging in his bed, all long, lean, muscular lines and soft, scarred, dark skin against deep red sheets. The Windrunner was naked, as he usually was when in Wit’s quarters, and he blushed at Wit’s whistle. Gracefully, he slid out of bed, crossing the room with long strides to wrap his arms around Wit’s neck, lips eager and warm in a kiss, and wasn’t that something incredible to come home to. Over the past months Kaladin had become so much more confident — Wit had worked hard to build that in the Windrunner and he loved to see it and be on the receiving end of it. When Kaladin and Adolin had repaired and restarted their relationship, Wit had witnessed the surly, pessimistic, world-weary man allow himself to experience happiness for the first time. Watching Kaladin thrive was mesmerizing, and Wit wasn’t sure how he had gotten so lucky. A night of comfort had somehow led to this beautiful, powerful man trusting him — falling for him, wanting to keep Wit of all people in his life even though he had the Prince. Wit knew that the love between the Windrunner and the Prince was once-in-a-lifetime, deep, pure, would-die-and-kill-for-it love. But Wit also knew that Kaladin meant it when the Windrunner whispered “I love you,” to him while in his arms.

“As loathe as I am to leave you whenever I have to, I must say I do love the greeting when I see you again,” Wit said, smiling at Kaladin.

The Windrunner pressed closer to Wit. “I missed you,” he whispered.

“I missed you too, darling,” Wit murmured. The warmth of Kaladin's naked body was soaking through his uniform pleasantly, and he could feel the soft tremors running through the younger man. It never ceased to amaze him just how affectionate and downright needy Kaladin was with all his guards down, and his layers of protection in the form of emotional repression torn asunder by Adolin and Wit. 

“May I?” Kaladin asked softly. He didn't need to specify, Wit knew.

“Yes, you may.”

Kaladin stepped back slightly, leaving enough room to work calloused fingers over the silver buttons on Wit's black uniform coat. When he was done with the coat he hung it neatly on the back of a chair, and returned to his task. The shirt was next, also black and made of soft silk — it flowed off Wit's arms as Kaladin's fingers made short work of its buttons, and it joined the jacket on the back of the chair. Wit shivered as the Windrunner's hands slid over the now bare skin of his chest. Blunted nails scraped gently over his nipples, followed by rough fingers tweaking them and making him moan softly. Kaladin's breath was warm against his neck, his lips soft on the sensitive skin. Wit greedily ran his hands down Kaladin's back, his fingers sinking into the firm flesh of the Windrunner’s buttocks. He was rewarded with a hitched breath and a deliciously needy whine, and Kaladin’s fingers working open the laces of his trousers. Wit’s hands came up to tenderly cup Kaladin’s face, and he tilted the taller man’s head down gently to press a soft kiss to his forehead, over the brands scarred there. One breath, one heartbeat, and then Wit was letting go and Kaladin was sinking to his knees. Wit felt the Windrunner unlacing his boots, and soon enough they were slipped off his feet and carried away, tucked under the same chair his jacket and shirt were hung on. That left Wit standing in nothing but his unlaced trousers and his smallclothes, and he almost felt the heat in Kaladin’s eyes as a physical thing as the Windrunner returned from the chair to stand in front of him again. Dark eyes hungrily took in Wit’s slender form, and his hard cock outlined under tight fabric, and then Kaladin was dropping to his knees again — Wit’s trousers went down with him this time. Strong hands ran their way back up his long legs, thumbs dragging up the inside of his thighs before the hands flared out to his hips and fingers were tucked into his smallclothes. Those were slid off his feet with his trousers, and taken to be placed on the seat of the chair. As Kaladin walked back toward him yet again, Wit was overcome by the Windrunner’s beauty. 

The man moved like a dancer, soft, certain steps bringing him ever closer, his hips swaying alluringly. His eyes were fixed on Wit, a blush covered his cheeks, and his face was soft and relaxed, full lips turned up at the corners in a small smile. His dark hair fell in waves down past his shoulders, and it was flowing loose the way Wit liked — the way that made him ache to run his hands through it, to pull hard and sharp and make Kaladin moan. When Kaladin was once again only inches away, Wit indulged himself a little by running long, slender fingers through the hair falling over Kaladin’s eyes to tuck it behind his ear. The younger man curved toward him as if seeking more contact.

“You are so beautiful, Kaladin,” Wit murmured, watching the blush on Kaladin’s cheeks grow deeper. And then the Windrunner rolled his eyes. A smile, dangerous and full of teeth, broke across Wit’s face. “Oh, do I need to show you again?” His voice was soft and dark, and he watched Kaladin shiver.

It had become a game between them, and there was almost nothing Wit loved more than breaking Kaladin. Having the Windrunner begging for things only Wit could give him was more intoxicating than the strongest violet wine. His long fingers slid around Kaladin’s wrist, squeezing tight enough that the younger man gasped. He dragged the Windrunner into the bathroom, pulling him up in front of the wash basin — and the mirror that hung over it. Wit pinned Kaladin's arm behind his back, and forced the younger man to look at himself with a hand gripped tight in his long, dark hair. Kaladin’s eyes were wide and blown. “Say it, darling,” Wit hissed.

Kaladin swallowed audibly, eyes slipping closed until a sharp yank on his hair had them flying open again. He didn’t speak, and Wit’s smile turned vicious. Anyone else might have missed the sparkle of challenge in Kaladin’s eyes, but Wit had always been a quick study in reading people and his intimate relationship with the Windrunner only made that easier.

“Very well,” he murmured low in Kaladin’s ear. “I can think of a much better use for your mouth than speaking anyway. Get on your knees.” 

Kaladin Stormblessed on his knees — willingly, happily, gratefully — was a sight Wit was certain he would never tire of. How could one ever grow tired of being looked at like a god? There was such love and trust and devotion in those dark eyes as they gazed up at him, and it made him a little breathless. He knew that this man’s submission to him was a gift, one of the greatest he had ever received in his exceptionally long life. With that knowledge he also knew that he would never do anything to jeopardize that gift; he would keep Kaladin and love him, in all the ways he could, for as long as he was allowed. For as long as he was needed. He reached down to gently cup Kaladin’s cheek, his thumb sliding over a plush lower lip to press down softly in the middle. A warm, wet tongue lapped out quickly, swiping across the pad of his finger.

“Open,” he whispered, and Kaladin obeyed without hesitation. His soft tongue slid out to welcome Wit’s thumb before full lips wrapped around it, sucking once, twice, three times before pulling off with a pop — and Wit shuddered. 

Kaladin gazed up at him through eyes hooded with arousal, his cheeks flushed a gorgeous red, his lips shiny with spit. He looked wrecked already, and Wit was helpless against that. With slender fingers tangled in dark hair again he pulled Kaladin forward, sliding his cock into the wet heat of the Windrunner's mouth. A sigh turned to a deep groan as the head of his cock breached the back of his lover's throat, and vibrations shivered along his length as the younger man moaned around him. He rolled his hips in deep thrusts, showing no mercy, and Kaladin took every inch that was fed to him. Wit gazed down in awe at the man before him, Kaladin gazing right back until his eyes slipped shut and he lost himself in the feeling of being used. The Windrunner was stunning in his surrender, and Wit felt like he could never get enough. As he felt his release coiling low in his stomach he shoved as deep as he could, holding there for a moment, relishing the look on Kaladin's face. Dark eyes fluttered open, glistening with tears, and the ones that had spilled down flushed cheeks mixed with the drool on a chin that was quivering just slightly with the effort of keeping those full lips wrapped around the not insignificant girth of Wit's cock. He almost kept going, almost decided to spill his release down Kaladin's willing, welcoming throat, but the game wasn't over; Kaladin had yet to break, and Wit always won.

“So good, darling. So fucking beautiful,” he murmured. “Shall we try again?” As he spoke he slid his cock out of Kaladin's mouth, and pulled the younger man up by his hair. They faced the mirror again and Wit grinned at their reflections over Kaladin's shoulder. “Say it,” he ordered. Once again Kaladin didn't speak. 

Wit ran a long finger up the length of Kaladin's leaking cock, brushing oh-so very gently. “So we're doing this the hard way, then. That suits me just fine," the last words were a growl in Kaladin's ear. He wrapped a gentle hand around Kaladin's impressive girth, his thumb swiping over the head to collect the pre-cum that drooled out steadily. The Windrunner shivered at the sensation, so Wit did it again, this time pulling a low moan from his lips. Wit began to move his hand, slowly and softly, over the throbbing cock. It wasn't much more than a tease, and he could see Kaladin gritting his teeth against words he didn't want to say — please...more...oh please, Wit — because that is how the game went. The Windrunner would make Wit work for what they both so desperately wanted. So Wit kept going. Slow and soft. Over and over, until Kaladin was trembling on the edge of release. It never took long after Wit fucked his throat. There was something about being used that way that drove Kaladin out of his mind. So Wit uncurled his fingers from around the younger man's length, and watched his hips jerk helplessly, chasing his first lost orgasm. Idly, Wit wondered how many ruined releases it would take before Kaladin broke this time.

As Kaladin stilled again, Wit wrapped his hand back around the Windrunner’s length, continuing his teasing strokes. It took longer to get the younger man to the edge this time, and his second lost orgasm made him whimper. The third one made him cry out a curse, and Wit grinned. He raised three fingers to Kaladin’s still open mouth and slid them in.

“Get these nice and wet for me, Stormblessed. That’s all you get.”

It was obscene, the way Kaladin sucked his fingers in like a starving man, tongue running over and around them, slicking them with spit. It made him groan, made him almost want to push the Windrunner to his knees again. But that wasn’t the game this time. He pulled his fingers out after a few moments, relishing the way Kaladin tipped his head forward to chase them. Seconds later Kaladin's back was arching and his legs spreading, a keening, muted wail passing through his clenched teeth, as Wit slid two spit-slick finger into him. There was more friction than with oil, of course, but Wit had taken Kaladin that morning and the Windrunner could handle more punishment than most. 

“Already so open for me, I bet you were fucking yourself while I was gone,” Wit whispered, his lips brushing Kaladin’s ear just to watch the Windrunner shiver. That was part of the game too, the filthy words Wit taunted Kaladin with. During one of their nights together he had brought Kaladin to orgasm with just his words; it made him achingly hard every time he thought about that. For a storyteller like Wit, it was basically the highest praise. ⁠”I bet you had your fingers sunk deep inside yourself the minute I walked out the door. That’s how desperate and needy you are for me, Kaladin. Can’t even wait until I get back. What would people think of you, the great Kaladin Stormblessed, if they knew how much of a little cockslut you are.” That made Kaladin whine high in his throat, and Wit slid a third finger in. The whine stuttered into a broken moan as Wit curled his fingers in just the right way, finding the bundle of nerves that would set the Windrunner on fire. He stayed there, fingers pressed firm and pulsing, watching Kaladin sink his teeth into his bottom lip, trying to stop his noises. When Kaladin’s hips started to rock in little circles, seeking more stimulation to push him into release, Wit slid his fingers away and stopped all movement. And so the younger man’s fourth orgasm of the night slipped out of his reach. 

Kaladin’s hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and a glistening sheen covered his body. Wit gently wrapped his free hand around the Windrunner’s cock again, back to the slow and soft strokes. A shudder wracked Kaladin’s tall, honed frame, and Wit could feel his own cock leaking and throbbing with need. He started to move his fingers again, the same languid pace as his hand on Kaladin’s cock. He kept that rhythm, torturously slow as he watched the younger man shudder again, so overstimulated and desperate for release. With each drag of Wit's long, clever fingers sparking friction deep inside Kaladin, the Windrunner's legs quivered and he moaned deep and low. Then he spoke and Wit grinned in victory.

“Please, Wit...” The words were barely a whisper, but they were enough. Wit slid his fingers in deep and curled them again. Kaladin's eyes rolled back and another deep moan was torn from his throat. His fingers were white knuckled, curled around the edges of the wash basin stand. 

Wit could feel  Kaladin starting to shatter under his hands, hips rocking with stuttering thrusts as the Windrunner panted, each breath ending in a choked little moan. As he opened his mouth to beg for release, Wit let go of his cock and pulled his fingers out, and Kaladin sobbed. He was shaking, every muscle standing out in stark relief for Wit's ravenous gaze. 

So. Fucking. Beautiful.

“Say it, and I'll give you what you want,” Wit hissed. Kaladin’s head hung low, dark hair obscuring his eyes, his shoulders shuddering with desperate gasps. When he looked up, Wit couldn't help the soft moan at the state of him. Kaladin looked beyond wrecked, his eyes wild and so blown with arousal that they glittered obsidian. There were tears spilling silently down his face. His lips were red, bleeding from where he'd bitten too hard, and they were parted so invitingly as he panted. Wit watched Kaladin break with a shivering moan.

“I...I'm beautiful,” he finally whispered, his wide eyes locked on Wit's in their reflections. 

“Mmmm...yes you are. And so good,” Wit said, rewarding Kaladin with a soft kiss on the shoulder. He held the Windrunner a moment longer, and then sunk his teeth into the crook of Kaladin's neck and shoulder without warning. Kaladin whined, high and desperate, so Wit did it again. And again. Only when Kaladin was panting with the pain, did Wit show mercy. He pulled his mouth away, sliding his tongue over the abused flesh, tasting salt and copper. He had broken the skin. The sight made him throb, and he wrapped a hand around his own cock for the first time that afternoon as he again ran his tongue over the marks he'd bitten. Kaladin shuddered at the raw feeling. 

Wit could feel his control unraveling, so he repositioned himself directly behind Kaladin and slicked his cock with his own spit. Gripping Kaladin’s hips hard enough to bruise, holding him in place, Wit sank into his tight heat with one roll of his hips. He met Kaladin’s eyes in the mirror as he bottomed out. The younger man’s gaze was unfocused, his breath coming in shuddering whimpers. Overstimulated and so deliciously broken. Wit waited, biting down on his tongue until he tasted blood, needing Kaladin to beg but barely holding on himself. Finally the words came.

“Oh, please Wit...please fuck me! I — I can't — I need...” Kaladin's voice was raw and trembling.

Wit started to move; fast, deep, and fluid, and Kaladin cried out a broken shout as Wit hit his prostate on the third thrust. Wordless noises spilled from his lips, his arms and legs were shaking, and his cock was throbbing almost painfully. Both men were so close to the edge already, and Wit wanted that last bit of control from Kaladin. He curved his slender body over the Windrunner's slightly taller, muscular frame, lowering his face to sweat-soaked dark hair, breathing in the scent of Kaladin like this. Then he raised his head, once again meeting Kaladin's eyes in their reflections.

“Cum for me, beautiful,” he panted against Kaladin's neck. And Kaladin did. Finally. Untouched. The noise that ripped from his throat was raw and ragged, and Wit felt him shuddering as his release slammed through him like a highstorm. Wit fucked Kaladin through his orgasm. He kept the same deep, pounding pace even as the Windrunner started to whimper, oversensitive — everything was becoming too much, especially the cock driving into his prostate. Wit's own release was close, and with a few more vicious thrusts he spilled deep inside Kaladin with a low, filthy groan. Moments later he slowly pulled out, his spend running down Kaladin’s spread, shaking thighs. The sudden feeling of emptiness made Kaladin whimper softly.

With gentle hands and tender arms, Wit gathered Kaladin to his chest and lifted the taller man. With grace and deceptive strength, he carried Kaladin like a bride over to the bathtub that sat in the middle of the room. Putting the Windrunner down carefully he leaned over to turn on the water, running it hot and adding scented oils. As the tub filled, he used a damp cloth to wipe their combined mess of sweat and spend from Kaladin’s skin. When he was clean, Wit helped him step into the tub and sit down, lounging back as water rose around his aching, bruised, fucked out body. When the steaming water reached near the top of the bath, Wit turned it off and settled on the side. Kaladin was drifting with his eyes closed, and Wit touched his shoulder gently before leaning over to kiss his forehead. Without Wit having to ask, Kaladin slid further down the length of the tub, his head tipping back so his hair trailed in the water. Slender fingers worked soap into the long, dark locks, and Kaladin sighed in pleasure as Wit’s fingernails scratched lightly at his scalp. This was their ritual after particularly intense meetings, and Wit took just as much joy in putting Kaladin back together again — cleaning him, pampering him, holding him — as he did in taking him apart.

They stayed like that, Kaladin soaking and Wit caring for him — rinsing his hair, lathering his body and scrubbing him down — until the water started to lose its heat. Wit rose to help Kaladin out of the tub, and wrapped a soft, luxuriously fluffy towel around him. He then lead the Windrunner back to the bedroom, stripping him of the towel and laying him down on the bed, following him. When Kaladin was settled, stretched out on his stomach, Wit settled on the backs of his thighs and began to massage a rich lotion — scented slightly sweet and spicy — into his soft, dark skin. He took his time, slender, clever, strong fingers pressing into overworked muscles and feeling those knots smooth out. When he was done with Kaladin’s back, having worked all the way from his neck down to his buttocks, Wit urged the Windrunner to flip over, and started the same treatment on his front. Fingers lightly brushing over collarbones, across defined pectoral muscles, down a flat stomach ridged with muscle, to hipbones and the layers of bruises there. Kaladin had yet to use Stormlight, so all the marks Wit had bitten and bruised into him still covered his body, a beautiful map of their intimacy. When Wit finished his pampering of Kaladin, he stretched out alongside the younger man and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“When do you need to leave?” Wit asked, his voice soft and lazy.

Kaladin opened his eyes and stretched, glancing out the window. The sun was low in the sky as evening approached. “Soon,” he answered. Wit could hear the reluctance in his voice.

“Guard duty waits for no man, and neither do princelings,” Wit said with a smile. An answering smile creased Kaladin’s face, his eyes crinkling. Seeing Kaladin like this, so free and open with his emotions and allowing himself to be happy, was something Wit treasured deeply.

All too soon, Kaladin was grumbling and rolling out of bed. Wit watched him appreciatively as he dressed. Even with something so mundane as putting on clothes, Kaladin moved with precision and grace. And the way he wiggled his hips into his uniform trousers was a show just for Wit; the cheeky smile Kaladin tossed over his shoulder proved that.

“Careful now, Stormblessed. You keep teasing me like that and you’re not going to make it to your duties or your Prince,” Wit grinned. That earned him a soft chuckle as Kaladin turned back to face him, buttoning up the Kholin blue uniform jacket. 

“I can’t help it, Wit. It’s your fault I’m like this now,” Kaladin retorted. There was no malice in his voice, and his dark eyes sparkled with affection. Wit simply smiled wider, knowing that was true and taking pride in it.

Fully dressed now, Kaladin stood by the bed again and Wit sat up. “I’ll walk you out,” he said, sliding gracefully off the bed and tying a long, silky black robe around his still naked body. Kaladin hummed in appreciation, his fingers running lightly over the exposed skin of Wit’s collarbones. Something flashed in those dark eyes, and the Windrunner’s hand slid slowly and carefully up to curl his fingers around Wit’s neck. There was barely pressure, but Wit felt his heart speed up and his breath catch in his throat. Kaladin smiled, the expression almost mocking.

“One day,” Kaladin said, his voice low and rough, “one day perhaps I’ll take you apart, Wit.” There was a promise in those words, a desire that hadn’t been expressed before, a game they hadn’t played, and it made Wit shiver with delight.

“Oh, darling. I would love to see you try,” he replied, pressing his body flush against Kaladin’s and sliding long fingers into dark hair. He kissed the younger man deep and filthy, and felt him melt into it.

It was with great reluctance that Wit ended their embrace, feeling Kaladin start to harden against him again. If they didn’t stop now, he wasn’t sure they’d be able to, and he wasn’t about to be responsible for the guilt Kaladin would feel if he missed his duties. Instead, he took the Windrunner’s hand in his, twining their fingers together as they walked to the door. There, Kaladin paused, fingers wrapped around the handle but not opening the door yet. 

“I love you, Wit,” he murmured. 

Wit smiled, soft and fond. “I love you too, Kaladin Stormblessed,” he replied. “Now, you really should leave before I drag you back to bed and show you just how much.”

A blush rose on Kaladin’s cheeks, but those fathomless brown eyes didn’t waver in their gaze. The Windrunner stepped closer, curling a calloused hand over Wit’s shoulder and leaning down. “I believe you already did that.” The whisper ghosted over Wit’s ear and he couldn’t help the small moan that fell from his lips. Then Kaladin was letting him go and stepping back, turning the handle and pushing the door open. The younger man took a step and then wavered there for a moment, almost like he was reconsidering, and Wit ran a gentle hand down his back.

Kaladin turned back one more time, stepping close, sliding his hand up Wit’s chest and kissing him soft and chaste. Wit smiled into it, always enamoured with this tender, adoring side of the Windrunner. With a last, gentle brush of calloused fingers down Wit's arm, Kaladin moved to go. But Wit couldn't help but capture the Windrunner's wrist in his slender fingers, only for a heartbeat and then he let go. It still made Kaladin's breath hitch, like it always did, and with a blushing smile he finally left. Wit leaned on the frame of his open door, admiring the Windrunner’s ass in his well-fitted uniform trousers as he walked away.

Chapter Text

Shallan was curled up in a chair by the window in Adolin’s quarters in Urithiru, her red hair in braids and a sketchbook held steady in her bare safehand. The fingers of her other hand were wrapped around a slender piece of charcoal, poised above the page as she stared unfocused into nothing. Adolin glanced at her, looking up from the needle and thread he was pushing through the thick, Kholin blue fabric of one of Kaladin's uniform jackets. Some of the buttons had popped off when Adolin had got impatient and ripped the jacket open the last time he'd seen the Captain — up against the wall of his quarters, hands shaking and everywhere — and that made him smile as his cheeks heated with the memory. With a sigh, Shallan came back to herself and began to draw. Adolin watched for a moment, mesmerized as always, before returning to his task.

They sat in comfortable silence, broken only by the soft sliding scratch of charcoal on paper, and the occasional snick of scissors cutting thread as Adolin finished with a button and moved onto the next. Shallan went through three pages, and was starting on a fourth, when a decisive knock at the front door broke the quiet. Adolin set aside his sewing and stood, padding softly across the room. Shallan closed her sketchbook and uncurled, covering her safehand and smoothing her havah as she resettled into a more ladylike position on the chair.

“Bridgeboy!” Adolin cried, a wide smile lighting up his face as he opened the door and saw Kaladin on the other side. 

“Princeling,” the Captain replied, his own smile turning up the corners of his lips.

Adolin stepped back to let Kaladin in. “I didn’t think I’d see you until later! What are you doing here?”

“I missed you, so I dismissed Teft early and took the rest of his guard shift,” Kaladin said with a shrug, his cheeks heating up just a little. Then the Captain was pushing the Prince back against the wall, pressing their bodies together and claiming his lips in a bruising kiss.

Adolin moaned, arching into Kaladin, his mind blanking as it always did when so close to the other man. With difficulty he pushed Kaladin back just enough to breathe. “W-wait...Kal, please! Shallan is here,” he stuttered. Kaladin jumped back as if burned.

“Why didn’t you say so before I —”

“You didn’t give me a chance,” Adolin chuckled. Kaladin flushed, looking as uncomfortable as Adolin had ever seen him. “You coming in?” He expected the Captain to decline, to go take up a post outside his door until Shallan departed. To his surprise, Kaladin nodded. The Captain unbuttoned his uniform jacket and hung it up, then followed him into the sitting room.

“Hey, bridgeboy!” Shallan greeted her husband’s lover with a smile as she rose from her chair. Kaladin frowned at the nickname, cheeks still red from the brief dalliance in the entryway. “I suppose this is my cue to leave.”

“Don't leave on my account,” Kaladin told her, and Adolin smiled a little at that. The Captain had come a long way in the months that this particular arrangement had been going on, and he was far more comfortable interacting with Shallan now. Of course Alethi propriety still wouldn't allow the bridgeboy to show his affections for Adolin while around others, especially Shallan and Dalinar, and he reacted with embarrassment every time Shallan brought it up.

Shallan tucked away her art supplies. “As much as I'd love to watch you take our Prince apart, Jasnah has need of me and I'm probably already late. Maybe one day you'll let me watch.”

Kaladin flushed all the way to the tips of his ears at Shallan's casual comments, and Adolin watched her smile with a glee to rival Wit’s when he sensed weakness in a highprince.

“I — I — what?” Kaladin sputtered.

“Now, now. Don't have a fit, dear. Not all of us are as buttoned up as you. Though, the way Adolin tells it, you come unbuttoned pretty deliciously.” Shallan continued her teasing and Kaladin grew impossibility more red. He turned to Adolin.

“Do you have to tell her about us?” 

Before the Prince could answer, Shallan spoke. “Yes, he does. It's part of the agreement, you know that. And you know how much he loves to share.” 

It was Adolin's turn to blush, and Kaladin sank down on the couch in defeat, hands covering his face as he groaned.

“Storming woman,” Adolin heard him mutter. Shallan just laughed softly and patted his shoulder as she headed to the door.

“If you didn't react so wonderfully, I wouldn't tease!” She called over her shoulder. 

Adolin shook his head as he followed her. When they reached the front door she wrapped her arms around him and pushed up onto her toes. He bent to meet her, holding her close, pressing soft kisses to her lips as her safehand brushed his cheek. Finally she pulled back, smiling up at him.

“I'll see you tomorrow for lunch,” she said as she pulled the door open. “Don't forget!”

He smiled and shook his head. “Wouldn't dream of it.” And then she was gone, leaving behind the lingering scent of her floral perfume. Adolin breathed deeply before returning to the sitting room.

Kaladin was still on the couch, inspecting the work Adolin had done in sewing the buttons back onto his jacket. He looked up as the Prince sat down beside him. 

“I’ve got two more left to do,” Adolin said as he reached to take the jacket back from Kaladin. “Should I finish, or...” He left the sentence unfinished.

Kaladin smiled at him softly, though there was hunger simmering in his deep brown eyes. “Finish, gemheart,” he instructed, settling back onto the couch with a contented sigh. Adolin blushed — as he always did — at the endearment, and warmth spread through his chest and into his whole being. Under Kaladin’s heavy gaze he continued on with his sewing, and if his hands were little shaky that was between him and the Almighty. Finally he finished, and he looked up at Kaladin. The heat blazing from those dark eyes made Adolin shiver. 

“Let me see,” Kaladin said, extending his hand to the jacket. Adolin passed it to him, watching as the Captain inspected his work. Apparently finding it to his liking, he put the jacket aside and beckoned the Prince to him with a crook of his finger. Adolin crawled into his lap, not even pausing to be embarrassed by his neediness. He found he no longer was, because Kaladin accepted and reveled in it. So he settled astride the Captain’s thighs, pressing close, burying his face in the crook of Kaladin’s shoulder. Kaladin always smelled like leather and oil, like wood and smoke, like the rain after a highstorm, and today like something lightly sweet and spicy that was almost familiar. Adolin pulled back, sitting up and staring down at his lover — it was only ever when he was on Kaladin’s lap that he had the height advantage. He cocked his head.

“Are you wearing some kind of cologne?” He asked, almost in disbelief. Kaladin shook his head, looking confused. “You smell like something new today,” Adolin continued. “Kind of sweet? Spicy? Warm? I’m not sure, but I like it.” 

Kaladin blushed, far deeper than a simple compliment would have caused, and Adolin raised an eyebrow. “It’s...uh...it’s the oils and lotion Wit uses. He, um, gave me a bath and a massage...after...” Kaladin trailed off.

Adolin almost expected to feel some spike of jealousy, though that almost never happened these days. What he didn’t expect was the spike of arousal that shot through him. Perhaps he should have. He knew he had a thing for the thought of Kaladin giving himself up to Wit — ever since that storming dream so many months ago — so if the Captain smelling like the other man turned him on, it shouldn't be surprising. He watched Kaladin's pupils dilate, black bleeding over brown, and he realized his newly discovered desire must be written on his face.

“You like it,” Kaladin marveled. “You like that I smell like him, because it makes you think about the things he does to me.” The Captain moaned quietly. “Gods, Adolin.”

Adolin's breath had left his lungs, yet he still managed to whimper. He knew his face must be absolutely scarlet, but he was suddenly so aroused that he didn't care. 

“I...Kal,” he drew in a deep breath. Did he dare? “I-think-I-want-to-watch,” poured out in a rush before he could stop it. Kaladin gasped, turning as red as Adolin. But the Prince didn't miss the way his hips hitched up, seeking friction.

“I think,” Kaladin said after a moment, “that Wit would be delighted to hear that, princeling.” He had recovered from his shocked embarrassment, and Adolin supposed that with a man like Wit in his life the Captain was used to hearing scandalous, dirty things. Kaladin’s hands settled on the Prince's hips, thumbs stroking in gentle circles. Adolin curved forward into him again, his head falling onto a strong shoulder as he buried his face in Kaladin's neck again. He breathed deep, inhaling the scent of Kaladin and Wit, and rocked his hips, unable to stop himself. He moaned as he dragged his achingly hard cock over Kaladin’s answering hardness under him, grinding them together desperately. Kaladin's grip tightened, holding him still, and he whined in protest.

“Kal, please...I want...”

“Good, tell me what you need,” Kaladin murmured.

“I need —” Adolin cut himself off with a shudder, then pulled in a deep breath. Hidden in Kaladin's shoulder as he was, it was easier to get the words out. “I had a dream, the night before we — before you and I reconciled. It was about you and Wit, and he was...he was taking you and you both knew I was there but didn't stop. You, um...you begged him to let you cum, because I was watching." He paused, drawing another deep breath before continuing. "I got off thinking about it after, and I still do sometimes. I think I want that. Something like that. I want to watch, and I want...” Adolin trailed off.

Kaladin, who had been gently rolling his hips up into Adolin's as the Prince spoke, stilled, hands bruising on Adolin's hips. “What do you want, princeling? Tell me,” he demanded in a whisper, his breath caressing the shell of Adolin's ear, making him shiver.

“I want to join?” It came out as a question, muffled as he pressed his face tighter against Kaladin's shoulder.

“You don't sound very certain of that,” Kaladin replied, relaxing his hold on Adolin's hips.

“I'm...I'm not. I - “ Adolin sat up, needing to see Kaladin's face. “It's a lot, Kal. I just...this is still new, even though it's been months. And I think, I think I'd really love to watch you and Wit, but what if I only like it in my head? And joining? I don't even know how I -" Kaladin stopped him with a soft kiss. 

“Oh, gemheart. It's okay. You're allowed fantasies, and they can remain fantasies. I'm sorry if I pushed you into something you weren't ready to talk about,” he said, lifting one of his hands from Adolin's hips to gently cup his cheek. Adolin closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

“I wanted to tell you,” the Prince whispered. “Can we keep talking about it until I figure it out?”

Kaladin nodded, and pulled him in for another kiss, this one deeper and more demanding. Adolin melted into it. Their tongues met, tangling together, the Captain resuming the soft and steady upward grind of his hips. Calloused fingers tightened on the Prince’s hips again, moving him, guiding him. It was slow, unhurried, a perfect balance on the edge of lust, and then Adolin tipped the scales. He couldn’t help it. His fingers tangled in Kaladin’s hair, and he pulled sharp and tight, and Kaladin arched into him with a choked moan. The Prince pushed deeper into the kiss, pressing his advantage as his hand stayed gripped in dark locks. The Captain writhed under him as he claimed his mouth with teeth and tongue. It was messy and artless, driven by mutual need, and Adolin relished it as he molded himself closer to Kaladin, greedily taking, while the Captain allowed it, their bodies sliding together ever more desperately. Until, inevitably, Kaladin turned the tide on him. The Captain’s long, lithe body bucked beneath the Prince, tipping sideways, and suddenly he found himself on his back, pinned. He grinned up at Kaladin as the Captain growled.

“Oh, gemheart. Look at you, thinking you can just take what you want. But you know that’s not really what you want, is it?” Kaladin murmured against Adolin’s lips. Adolin shook his head. “That’s right. We both know what you really want, don’t we?” The Captain pushed his thigh between the Prince’s, pressing against him. 

Adolin flushed, arching up against Kaladin. “Please,” he whined.

Kaladin rolled his hips down, slow and precise, pulling a moan out of both of them. There were too many layers, and Adolin was already much too warm, but neither man thought to pause in their lust. Starched stiff uniform against soft and relaxed casual clothing, calloused fingers in silky hair, long lines pressed to broader muscles; nothing else existed for long moments as Kaladin continued the slow grind of his hips down into Adolin. They breathed in each other’s panting breaths, drinking in every little involuntary sound that fell from kiss-swollen lips. As they rocked together, Kaladin broke the silence.

“What you want, my beautiful princeling, is to find out exactly what Wit does to me, isn’t that right?” The words were whispered into Adolin’s ear, Kaladin close enough that the Prince was overwhelmed by him. This was how they had conversations that either of them struggled with, because neither could be anything but honest when under the other. So Kaladin kept the Prince right where he wanted him, helpless to do anything but think about all the things he had been so desperately wanting.

“Storms, Kal...I - “

“It’s okay, you can admit it. You’ve been thinking about it, dreaming about it all along. You so desperately want to know, want to watch.”

Adolin shuddered, tucking his face into Kaladin’s shoulder above him. “I...yes, I want that,” he whispered into stiff fabric and spicy-sweet skin. 

“You want to see me spread out under him, begging for him. You want to watch and maybe you’ll start wondering what it’s like. You’ll watch him break me and you’ll want that too,” Kaladin paused, considering. “Or maybe what you really want is for both of us to put you in your place.”

A bolt of visceral want went through Adolin at those words, and an embarrassingly desperate moan tore from his throat. He had thought plenty about watching, the image of Wit taking Kaladin apart often running through his mind in the dark hours of the night. He had also thought on occasion about joining, though those thoughts never went far — he didn’t know how it would work and he didn’t think he wanted Wit. But those words from Kaladin’s lips pressed against his ear had him aching, his cock pulsing pre-cum into his smalls.

“Oh," Kaladin breathed, sounding awed. 

Adolin clung to the Captain as that new desire roared through him, shaking him to the core. He couldn’t want this. He shouldn't even want the things he already had. But this, this would be going too far. A Highprince giving up his power and control to a darkeyed Captain and the King's Wit? He couldn't. And yet the thought of it burned through him. It took his breath away. It pushed him right to the edge, hips grinding artlessly upwards, and he hung there until...

“Oh, Adolin,”

And he spilled over with a shuddering sigh. Kaladin turned them onto their sides and held him through it, stroking his hair and whispering sweet nothings. 

Only when the mess in his trousers started to give uncomfortable did Adolin even think about moving. He was still buzzing from the revelation of a new desire, but the sharp edges of arousal had dulled for now. Kaladin felt him stir and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

“Kal...” Adolin whispered.

“I'm here, gemheart. Are you okay?”

Adolin nodded. “It's just...a lot,” he said, then he shifted and groaned. “Can we shower? I'm kind of, um, uncomfortable.”

Kaladin smiled, and pressed another kiss to the Prince's forehead before rolling off the couch with far more grace than was fair. “Of course,” he said, helping Adolin up. Together they made their way to Adolin's bathroom, and the Prince got the water running before stripping out of his clothes. He was under the water, sighing gratefully at its warmth, before Kaladin even had his boots off. But when the Captain finally stepped into the shower to join him, his breath caught in his throat. It wasn't the first time they had showered together, but his lover's beauty made his heart skip every time.

Kaladin was a masterpiece, no longer ripped at every edge though his story could be read in his scars. The spray of the water glistened on his dark skin and darker hair, and steam wrapped like Stormlight around the long, lean lines of his body. He looked, Adolin thought, like divinity, and the Prince wanted to worship. So he sunk to his knees, and showed his devotion with his hands and his mouth, until Kaladin was coming undone, hands gripped tight in two-toned hair.

After their shower Adolin settled in front of the vanity he shared with Shallan. Half was taken up by her lotions and oils and creams, the other half was covered in his. Kaladin liked to tease him about that, but the Captain never had a complaint about how soft his skin and hair were. He had also caught Kaladin watching him many times, with a small, indulgent smile. So he focused on the ritual: a rich lotion smoothed over his body, cream dabbed around his eyes, and a lighter lotion spread over his face; then there was the oil he combed through his hair, and the cream for his hands. The familiarity helped bring him back to himself, the evening's revelation still shivering under his skin.

With the completion of his nighttime routine, Adolin joined Kaladin in bed, crawling under the covers and pressing close. His head rested on Kaladin's chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. It soothed away the last buzzing, shivering feelings, and Adolin breathed deep. Kaladin's arms tightened around him, and he felt the Captain's own deep breath.

“Thank you,” he murmured into Kaladin's chest.

“What for?” His lover asked.

He blushed. “For helping me figure out what I want.”

Kaladin pressed a kiss to the top of his head in reply. They didn't always need words. And as the third moon of the night rose, sleep took them. 

Late morning sun found them tangled in the sheets and in each other, Kaladin pressing him down onto his back and kissing him breathless. He wasn't sure what his revelation and the coming weeks would bring, but he knew that this was something he wanted to keep. This was right. This was home.

Chapter Text

Kaladin wondered, not for the first time, if maybe he’d lost his mind that night on the Shattered Plains. If maybe, when Adolin broke his heart, the Highprince also broke his brain. Because what had transpired that night with Wit was decidedly not something Kaladin would do; nor was it something he would continue. Yet he couldn’t deny the power and control Wit had over him, though he couldn’t explain it. He also couldn’t deny the love that had grown for the strange, enigmatic man. There was something about him that made Kaladin — usually so taciturn and distrusting — want to please him, want to open up to him and surrender. That was why, only days after Adolin’s revelation, Kaladin found himself striding down the now-familiar corridors to Wit’s quarters. Usually he admired the alternating lines of strata that guided his way, but his mind was full of the things he needed to tell his lover.

He didn't knock when he got to Wit's door, simply opening it and stepping in. The quarters weren't as big as the Highprince's, but they were just as lavishly furnished. Perhaps more, considering Wit's travels and exotic tastes. As Kaladin stepped further into the rooms, he heard the sound of a flute drifting in from the balcony. He made his way out, finding Wit sitting on the railing, his long legs dangling into nothing with the sheer drop below. Slender fingers danced over the instrument pressed to his lips, and Kaladin would swear on the Heralds that he heard the wind sing back. The song ended, and Wit turned to look over his shoulder at Kaladin.

“Hello, darling,” he grinned, still perched on the ledge. Kaladin resisted the urge to drag him to safety.

“Hi, Wit,” he replied with his own smile, a blush rising on his cheeks 

“What do you have to tell me? Because as much as I enjoy the surprise visit, I know you're here for a reason.”

Kaladin nodded. Wit was right, as usual. How did he always seem to know everything? “I wanted to talk to you. About Adolin.”

Wit raised an eyebrow. “Are you having troubles with your princeling again?”

“No! No, nothing like that. Things are...wonderful,” Kaladin paused, smiling wistfully, before continuing with an even deeper blush. “It's just — he revealed some things a couple nights ago.”

The other man swung back onto the balcony, slender body and long limbs sinuous and graceful as he moved. He came to a stop in front of Kaladin. “Let's take this inside, where we can sit down safely. I'll get us some wine, I have a feeling we'll need it.” 

Kaladin nodded weakly and followed Wit inside. Taking a seat on one of the chairs in Wit's small dining room, he waited for the lanky man to pour then each a glass of yellow wine. Once he'd drained his, he leaned forward with his elbows on the table, dark eyes steady even with his blush. 

“He wants to watch, has wanted it for...well let's just say a while,” he told Wit, watching his eyes widen just slightly.

“Adolin Kholin, Highprince, wants to watch the Captain of his guard get railed by the King's Wit?” 

Kaladin blushed even harder. “Well, yes. He, um, he wants to know the things you do to me, wants to see. And...and he said he wants to join.”

“Join?” Wit asked, incredulous.

Kaladin nodded. “Specifically, he wants you and I to ‘put him in his place’.”

“Well, who am I to deny the heir to the Kholin dynasty? Though I am curious how this revelation came about after all these months.”

“Oh, that,” Kaladin chuckled. “It's because I smelled like you when I saw him after you and I...”

“Hmmm...interesting,” Wit said with a sly smirk. Kaladin narrowed his eyes.

“Wit! You did it on purpose didn't you? Sent me to him smelling like you because you knew. You always know.”

Wit's smile widened. “Ah, Stormblessed my love. That's what I do: I go where I'm needed, I drink, and I know things.”

Kaladin shook his head. “You're infuriating sometimes, did you know that?"

“Darling, that's the thing I know the best!” Wit laughed. “Let’s just say that I’ve seen the way your princeling looks at us sometimes, and I knew he needed a little push to figure himself out. Though I must say I am genuinely surprised he wants to join. I thought he would just want to watch, then maybe fuck you himself." Kaladin felt himself heat up at those words. He and the Highprince had yet to do things that way, it was always Adolin begging for his cock and who was he to resist? But the idea stuck in his head, and he felt himself wanting it with an intensity that shook him to his core. It stole his breath, but Wit was still speaking, and Kaladin forced his attention back to his lover. "Now the question is, do you want what your Highprince wants?”

“I do. The way he reacted, Wit. Oh, it was beautiful,” Kaladin breathed. “He wants this, wants us, so desperately. I couldn't deny him even if I wanted to.”

“I know that feeling well,” Wit told him with a smile. “Now, we'll all need to discuss how this is going to work.”

Kaladin agreed. 

A week and a half later, Kaladin found himself walking towards Wit’s quarters again. He was dressed in a casual outfit of fitted black trousers, an ivory white shirt, and a deep purple vest (a gift from Adolin); his hair was loose and flowing in curling waves to the middle of his back. Anxiety was singing through him as he approached Wit’s door. He felt like he was balanced on the edge of a chasm, poised to fall into the unknown and incredible. Tonight was going to change everything. His hand shook slightly as he raised it to knock. He was running a hand through his hair - a nervous habit he had picked up from Adolin — as Wit opened the door, and he didn’t miss the way the man’s pupils dilated. He supposed it was good that he had a thing for having his hair played with and pulled, because both Wit and Adolin seemed almost overly enamoured with his long dark locks. 

Wit looked like sin itself. His tall, slender body was draped in a silky black shirt, so delicate that it was almost sheer. His long legs were covered by pants of the same material, hanging low on his hips, and not much was left to the imagination. As he moved, a strip of skin flashed between pants and shirt, and Kaladin had to bite back a noise of want. His feet were bare, sunk into the rich rug that covered the floor. Black hair curled artfully around his angular face, falling across blue eyes - lighter than Adolin's, more crystalline than summer sky, and ancient. His lips curled into a soft smile as he stepped up to Kaladin, sliding a hand into his hair and pulling him down into a kiss.

“Are you ready?” Wit asked as he broke the kiss moments later, before it could run away on them. Kaladin nodded. “And the Highprince?” Wit inquired further.

“He’s ready, he knows. It’s like we discussed.”

Wit smiled at him again, this time with an edge of hunger. “Oh, darling. Tonight will be one for the ages.”

Kaladin shivered, arousal coursing through him. Needing to do something with the unsteady energy he was full of — itching and straining under his skin like Stormlight — he pulled Wit to him and claimed the other man’s mouth with his. One hand in onyx hair, the other running up under the silky shirt covering all the skin he wanted to touch. Wit melted against him, and a different kind of desire flooded through his veins. He pushed it down. Tonight was already full enough of new explorations. When Kaladin let Wit go, the man was breathless.

“One day,” Kaladin growled, watching Wit shiver. Then the lanky man was on him, pulling him in by his hair, taking back control. 

“Not tonight though,” Wit replied in his own growl. “Tonight we ruin a Highprince.” With that, he dragged Kaladin into the sitting room and pushed him down onto the couch.

Clever fingers soon had Kaladin stripped bare, and his warm skin glided against black silk as he arched up under Wit. 

“So eager, darling,” Wit murmured. “Come here.” And he rolled them until he was upright and Kaladin was straddling his lap. The next moments passed in a daze of pleasure as their lips met in a bruising, messy kiss, and their bodies moved together seeking friction. 

Kaladin gripped Wit's flimsy, silky shirt in his hands and pulled it up, exposing a flat stomach and defined chest. Impatiently he tugged, whining an “up” as Wit grinned at him before finally lifting his arms to allow the shirt to be pulled off over his head. Kaladin then set himself to touching and marking every bit of Wit's skin he could reach. He slid down the lanky man's body, hands and mouth mapping the oh-so-familiar route to where he loved to be — on his knees between long legs. The pants came with him, pooling on the floor. He looked up at Wit, hands running back up those legs, calloused fingers on smooth skin sending out shivers like lighting. Slowly he leaned forward, holding Wit's dark gaze, and licked his cock from root to tip, swirling his tongue around the head. Wit groaned low in his chest.

“Stop teasing and open up,” he commanded, and Kaladin obeyed, swallowing him down eagerly. Wit's head hit the back of the couch as he moaned, and his hips rocked up, forcing even more of his cock down Kaladin's throat. 

Kaladin settled into a rhythm, working Wit with his tongue and throat, until his lover's hands were gripping tight in his hair and the control was taken from him. He moaned loudly as Wit held him in place with a vicious grip, thrusting up into his mouth and taking. The hands in his hair and the cock down his throat had him trembling with raw, aching want, but he let it fade into the background, content in his place at Wit's feet. His eyes slipped closed and he let everything go except his desire to serve and bring pleasure to the man above him. He didn't hear the door opening, didn't hear the soft footsteps, didn't hear the gasp of breath or the choked off moan. The only thing that existed was Wit, and the throbbing length heavy on his tongue, until the noises and curses spilling from Wit became words again, trickling through the arousal Kaladin was floating in. The first thing he heard was — 

“Welcome, Brightlord. Do you like what you see?” 

— and his eyes opened, glancing up to see Adolin standing by the couch, looking awkward, embarrassed, and so, so aroused. The sight made him moan, sending vibrations through the cock in his mouth, and he held the Highprince's gaze as Wit continued to fuck his throat, deep and slow now.

Adolin stared, mesmerized and so suddenly, dizzyingly hard that he was surprised he was still standing. Kaladin looked gorgeous kneeling between Wit's legs as his throat was thoroughly used. His hands were resting on Wit's calves, holding on as if to ground himself. His cock was hard and dripping steadily onto the floor beneath him, ignored, and Adolin desperately wanted to taste. He felt like he was in a dream, feverish with mad desires. He didn't know what to do with himself, though he so badly wanted to touch — who, he wasn't sure and didn't care in that moment; he needed something physical to grasp onto.

“Come now, don't be shy,” Wit purred. “You wanted to see, wanted to watch. Now, watch.” Without warning, he used his grip on Kaladin's hair to pull him off his cock, dragging him back up onto his lap. Kaladin went willing, moaning wantonly, thighs spreading over the lap beneath him, and Wit coaxed him up onto his knees so he could rock forward and slide down onto the cock he had just soaked in spit. 

“Look how good he takes me.” Wit hissed at the Highprince. “We do this so often that he’s always open, but still so fucking tight.”

Kaladin had prepared himself before leaving his quarters, but he flushed at the words (Wit always knew how to get under his skin in the most delicious ways), and shuddered as he was stretched and taken. His gaze locked back onto Adolin, and when he saw the look of raw hunger in those startlingly blue eyes — blown almost entirely black now — he gasped and had to close his own so he didn't lose his composure. Not that he had much of that to speak of. Wit was moving now, fingers bruising on his hips to pull him down and direct him, and he answered those bruises with his own on Wit's shoulders as he used the leverage to meet each rolling thrust. He could feel the wild heat of Adolin's eyes on him, and he forced his own eyes open again. Blazing blue met melting brown, and Kaladin suddenly needed Adolin closer.

“Adolin,” he moaned, low and wrecked, as Wit fucked up into him and he thrust his hips down to take him deeper. The Highprince startled as though he'd been woken from a dream, and he took a few unsteady steps closer. That put him within Kaladin's reach. Without stopping the movement of his hips grinding Wit deep inside him, he reached out and curled his fingers into the waistband of Adolin’s uniform pants, pulling the Highprince to him. As if Kaladin's touch had been permission, Adolin wove the fingers of one hand into his lover's hair, tilting his head up and back. 

Crashing their lips together, sinking his teeth into Kaladin’s lower lip before licking into his mouth, Adolin wrapped his other hand around his bared throat, his thumb pressing over a racing pulse. A moan shuddered out of him as Kaladin gave in with a desperate, mewling whimper. Feeling the powerful man surrender under his hands was a rush the Highprince did not expect, and he suddenly understood why Wit couldn’t let Kaladin go — why he had fallen in love with this and with Kaladin. Desire poured through him, and he continued to take as Kaladin let him. The hand tangled in sweaty, dark tresses gripped ever tighter, and he swallowed every aching moan that fell from the lips slack with pleasure against his. His hand around Kaladin’s neck stayed steady with a soft, promising pressure, and he fought down the desire to squeeze harder.

Kaladin was held captive by two sets of demanding hands and he rocked helplessly between them, imagining, just for a moment, Wit laying him down on the couch and Adolin replacing his tongue with his cock down his willing throat. That thought made him shiver, made him gasp into Adolin's demanding mouth. Then his eyes snapped open, staring into a ring of blue fire around a sea of black, and he growled. He surged up, breaking free of Adolin’s grip, and shoved the Highprince down onto the couch.

“I believe you were told to watch, princeling,” he panted. “So watch.” His demand and his tone matched Wit’s earlier instruction, and Adolin moaned. With a roll of his hips, Kaladin took Wit to the hilt again, before sliding back up oh-so-slow. Wit groaned, letting him set the pace, and he moved with the same grace and ferocity as he did on the battlefield. Taking Wit’s cock deep and hard, arching his back until he found the right angle and the throbbing length inside him dragged over the bundle of nerves that made his mind go blank. Everything disappeared except the need as he desperately drove himself down harder and faster. His eyes were squeezed shut, dark skin flushed and glistening with sweat, lips kiss-swollen and open as he panted and moaned, hair a mess, so close to the edge. And he wanted to tip over, wanted Adolin to watch him fall apart from Wit’s cock alone.

“Gods, please Wit,” he begged. “I want — ohhh — I want to cum. Wit, please. Please let me...for you...for Adolin...” He felt Wit brace himself, felt the bruising grip on his hips return, and then all he could do was hold on as Wit lifted him, held him in place, and took, pounding up into him, hitting his prostate with every thrust.

“Look at your princeling,” Wit growled.

His eyes flew open again, and the sight of Adolin took his breath away. The Highprince was slouched back on the couch, watching with heavy lidded eyes as Kaladin rode Wit. He was still fully dressed in his uniform — it had seemed less suspicious for him to show up to Wit’s quarters that way, easier to pretend it was some sort of official visit — and his legs were spread lewdly. There was a growing wet spot at the top of the impressive tent in his trousers, his hands were in a white knuckle grip on the fabric of the couch, and his hips were hitching up in little thrusts as he took in the explicit scene playing out in front of him. He stared straight into Kaladin's eyes as he bit his his lip, trying so hard to stop the needy little noises escaping him. That was all it took for Kaladin to come undone. His release crashed over him, through him, as he drowned in Adolin's gaze and Wit fucked him through it. Distantly, he was aware of words and sounds falling from his lips, Wit's name and Adolin's both ripped from him at the height of his pleasure. When he finally drifted back to himself, he could feel Wit's hands running up and down his back, and Adolin's fingers gently combing through his hair. He sat up, dislodging both men's hands, and leaned over to drag Adolin to him.

The Highprince made a noise of surprise, and caught himself with one hand on Kaladin's shoulder and the other on Wit's. Kaladin was still on Wit's lap, still had his cock buried deep inside him, and he pulled Adolin close until their lips were brushing.

“Was it as good as your dream?” He whispered, though he saw the answer painted as clear as a prayer glyph on the Highprince's face. 

Adolin nodded dazedly. “Even better,” he replied in his own whisper. 

“Good. Because now it's your turn, and we're not going to stop until we've completely taken you apart.” Kaladin's voice was still soft, but it was full of heat and hunger and promise. Adolin tilted his head, closing the final, tiny space between their lips. The kiss was surprisingly gentle, Kaladin cradling the Highprince's face in his hands, their burning need suspended for a moment. And then Wit was thrusting up, once, his aim right on target as his cock hit Kaladin's prostate, and Kaladin's lips were ripped from Adolin's as he cried out, folding onto Wit's shoulder.

“I think we should take this to the bedroom,” Wit said, his voice low and rough, and he stilled again.

Kaladin nodded, rising up on his knees until Wit's cock slid out of him. He found his footing, wobbling only slightly as his thighs quivered, before offering his hand to Adolin. The Highprince took it, allowing himself to be pulled up off the couch. Wit followed them, rising gracefully and moving past them to lead the way. Kaladin twined his fingers with Adolin's as they followed, and looked over to check on him. The look of pure, intoxicated lust on his face had Kaladin blushing as the Highprince gazed hungrily at him from under long lashes - gold and black like his hair. 

“I know Wit won't hold back, I don't think he knows how,” Adolin murmured. “I hope you won't either.”

“Oh, princeling. I promise I won't.” He relished the way Adolin's breath hitched and the way the Highprince stumbled slightly. This was going to be incredible.

Chapter Text

Wit was waiting for them when they entered the bedroom. He stood by the bed, naked, achingly hard, and smiling in a way that was nothing but predatory. Kaladin crossed the room to stand next to him, leaving Adolin behind. He pressed his equally naked body against Wit, winding his arms around his neck, bending down the couple inches of difference in height to kiss him deep and dirty, tongues tangling and laying claim. Wit gave as good as he got, running his hands over Kaladin's body, chasing the shivers with clever fingers in all his weak spots. Kaladin was fully hard again when he finally pulled back from the kiss. Both men glanced over at the Highprince briefly before looking back at each other. Wit reached up and tucked a sweaty strand of hair behind Kaladin's ear, smiling softly as his hand trailed down over his cheek to curl around the back of his neck in a possessive grip. His smile turned dark.

“You know he came in his pants like some kind of desperate teenager when he saw you fall apart on my cock, right?” Wit flicked his fingers towards the Highprince. “Didn't even touch himself. He's going to be so much fun to break.”

Kaladin's eyes slid from Wit over to Adolin. The Highprince was leaning against the wall, legs looking like they were about to give out under him. His big, calloused, swordsman’s hands were pressed to the lines of strata that ran around the room, as though trying to draw strength from the stone. Kaladin ran his gaze slowly down Adolin's body, taking in the way he shook, the way he almost swayed on his feet, the violent flush on his face disappearing under the collar of his uniform jacket. Dark eyes stopped on the mess that had soaked through the Highprince's trousers, and Adolin squirmed under that disdainful look, already so very hard again. 

“He's still wearing clothes,” Kaladin remarked to Wit, and watched Adolin scramble to strip. By the time the Highprince had fought his way out of his uniform — leaving it in a pile on the floor — Wit had taken Kaladin's lips in another messy kiss. Their naked bodies moved together obscenely, sliding sweat-slick and aching for more. Kaladin ground himself against Wit, wrapping a leg around the other man's slender waist, his fingernails raking up his back. Wit held Kaladin’s hair in a vicious grip with one hand, holding him in place and claiming him with teeth sinking into his full lips, and a clever tongue licking deep into his panting, whining mouth. His other hand wrapped under the thigh around his waist, slender fingers deceptively strong and digging deep enough to bruise the firm, dark flesh.

Adolin watched, his cock throbbing and dripping. Seeing Kaladin like this was beyond anything he could have imagined. And the way the he and Wit spoke like Adolin wasn't right there, the way they ignored him like he was nothing but an object for their pleasure if they chose to use him, had him shaking with lust. He watched them kissing, moving together, practically fucking — the room filled with Kaladin’s desperate little noises, and the slick sounds of their skin and tongues sliding together — and tried not to touch himself. He lasted until Wit pulled back and spun Kaladin around, shoving him facedown over the bed. As Kaladin shifted, spreading his legs and pushing his hips back to offer himself up, Adolin couldn't help but give in and wrap a hand around his cock. Wit's crystal blue eyes snapped to him, and the older man sneered.

“No self control. If your bridgeboy didn't have his face in the mattress he'd have something to say about that,” he taunted. It only made Adolin grip himself tighter, moaning. Wit reached down to grab a handful of Kaladin's hair again, pulling him up off the bed. “Look at your pathetic Highprince.” Kaladin’s gaze turned on Adolin. 

“Did I say you could pleasure yourself, princeling?” He asked, voice low and dangerous, but straining around a moan as he was held up by his hair. Adolin shook his head and let go of his cock. “That's right. All you get to do is watch, just like you wanted.” The Highprince shivered at those words.

“Yes princeling, watch what's in store for you,” Wit snarled as he shoved Kaladin down onto the bed again, slicked his cock with his own spit, and sank back into him, hard and deep and sudden. Kaladin wailed, back arching, legs giving out as Wit's body and the bed kept him in place. Wit set a brutal pace, hand on the back of Kaladin's neck holding him down, slamming into his welcoming body as he clung to the sheets, his cries muffled in the fabric Wit had his face pressed into.

Adolin arched off the wall, hips thrusting helplessly into nothing, hands in fists at his sides clenched so tight that his nails dug into his palms. He was panting like a dog in heat, and so desperate to touch — to be touched — that he was choking on it. Every nerve was alight with arousal, and he felt dizzy with it, out of control and wild as it sung through him.

Wit kept his gaze on the Highprince as he fucked into Kaladin. “This is what you’ll get,” he said, his voice mocking and cold, but breathless. “Only you’ll have a cock down your throat as well.” He watched his words shiver through Adolin. “Or maybe I’ll just fuck Kaladin until I cum. I’ll fill him, and then you can take your turn with my sloppy seconds.” He moaned at his own words, the images they conjured in his mind. “Imagine that. Imagine him begging for you as my spend runs down his thighs, imagine how hot and dripping wet he would be when you slid inside.” 

Adolin shook at that thought, a deep moan torn from his throat. Suddenly he was aching with the desire to sink his throbbing cock into Kaladin's used, dripping hole. He wanted that feeling - so filthy and wrong. He wanted the mess and the silky slickness. He wanted to hear Kaladin beg for it.

“Oh, he likes that,” Wit said, the words filtering through Adolin's exquisite arousal. He had turned his gaze back to the man speared on his cock. “He wants to fuck you once I'm through with you, once I've filled you. Maybe I'll give him what he wants.” Wit slowed the pace of his thrusts. “Should I?”

“N-no.” Kaladin turned his head out of the blankets, and forced the word out through the haze of pleasure sweeping over him. “We have — we have to — he wants us to...” It seemed to take all his power to stutter out those few words, in not much of a better state than Adolin.

Wit ground to a stop, buried as deep as he could go in tight heat. “You’re right, darling. Of course. You brought us such a gorgeous toy to play with. It would be a shame to waste him.” He straightened up and slid out of Kaladin’s hole.

Kaladin whined at the loss, trying to collect himself and steady his legs before he pushed up off the bed and turned to face Adolin. His breath was punched out of him at the sight of the Highprince. He looked utterly wrecked. Gold-and-black hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, lips bitten raw, eyes blazing with such depths of lust that Kaladin shivered to see it. His cock was hard, painfully so, straining and leaking as his hips kept rocking into empty air. 

“Come,” he ordered, beckoning Adolin over with a crook of his finger. The Highprince obeyed, moving unsteadily towards him and Wit.

“Kneel,” came his next order and Adolin sunk to his knees, bowing his head.

Warm, calloused fingers raised his chin, and he turned his gaze upward. Deep brown eyes stared down at him, pupils blown wide.

“Open.” Adolin obediently opened his mouth, his tongue sliding out to rest on his bottom lip. 

Bright blue eyes kept their gaze on Kaladin as he gripped a fistful of two-toned hair and pulled Adolin onto his cock. He rolled his hips forward at the same time, sinking deep into the Highprince’s throat, and Adolin took it with a satisfied moan. As Kaladin began to thrust, he turned his intense stare away from the brilliant eyes shining up at him, glistening with tears. His dark eyes came to rest back on Wit, and the lanky man pulled him down for a kiss that was more teeth than finesse. Adolin watched their tongues tangle as Kaladin reached over to wrap a hand around Wit’s dripping cock. His grip was tight, slicked by Wit’s pre-cum, and Wit thrust into it, fucking into Kaladin’s fist. One hand had long fingers wrapped around the back of Kaladin's neck, the other came to rest in Adolin’s hair — holding, but not pulling — as Kaladin fucked into the Highprince’s throat.

“He takes you so good, darling,” Wit gasped out as their kiss came to an end. He looked down at Adolin, who was still gazing up at the men above him, and his hand tightened in that soft gold-and-black hair. “Fuck, Kaladin. I’m going to — I want to...” his eyes flicked up to Kaladin, and then back down to Adolin, and Kaladin seemed to understand something in that glance because he moaned from deep in his chest, and nodded. He pulled out of Adolin’s throat but stayed close, grinding the slick, throbbing flesh against his lover's flushed, tear-streaked cheek, and turned the Highprince's upturned face towards Wit. His hand moved faster on Wit’s cock, the other man trembling and panting.

“Do it,”  Kaladin growled, twisting his hand over the head just so, and Wit threw his head back with a cry as he came hard, coating Adolin’s face and Kaladin’s cock. Kaladin shoved back into Adolin's greedy mouth, making him taste Wit's spend, shuddering as the Highprince moaned desperately around him, choking himself to get every drop. When his cock was clean, Kaladin pulled out, and Wit tossed a damp cloth at the Highprince who was swaying on his knees as though drunk. He looked utterly debauched with his face covered in Wit's spend and his own tears and drool.

“He's so pretty like this,” Wit remarked to Kaladin, taking in the hungry way the Windrunner was staring down at the Highprince. He turned he own gaze downward, smiling in satisfaction at the way Adolin looked up at the two men above him. Nothing but lust and devotion in those dazzling eyes. “Clean yourself up, we're not done with you yet,” he told the Highprince, watching him raise the cloth and wipe his face off with shaking hands. He remained on his knees when he was done.

“Stand,” Kaladin ordered. Adolin rose to his feet, unsteady, shivering. 

For a heartbeat the cold, selfish, dominant mask slipped, and Kaladin's demeanor softened. There was a question in his eyes — Is this okay? Is this good? — and Adolin answered by pressing close, pushing his body against Kaladin's. He wrapped his arms around Kaladin's neck and went up into his tiptoes for effect as he kissed his lover deep and passionate. 

“Yes,” he whispered when the kiss ended, in case anything was misunderstood, and he watched that mask slide back into place. 

“Good boy,” Kaladin murmured, and Adolin blushed. “Now, get on the bed.” 

Adolin moved to obey, crawling up into Wit's massive bed, sinking into the luxurious bedding — the crimson fabric softer and silkier than anything the Highprince had experienced, and he thought he had all the finest things. For one wild moment he almost asked the man where he'd imported such fabric from, and that thought, so far removed from everything else, made a laugh bubble up. He only managed to choke it down, turn it into a noise of desire, when he looked over his shoulder at the other two men. They were pressed together again, Wit working his mouth over Kaladin's jaw and neck, down across his collarbones — kissing, biting, licking, marking. Kaladin had his hands in Wit's black hair, tugging gently, and he pulled the man's angular face back up to his for a kiss that was surprisingly tender. It made Adolin's heart ache strangely, but before he could focus on that, Kaladin was breaking the kiss and turning to him.

“On your back,” he instructed. “Head over the side.” He pointed at the side closest to them, and Adolin did as he was told. His head rested at the edge of the bed, and he regarded the other men from upside down, watching Wit step closer. Suddenly a hand was in his hair and he was being pulled further forward. He whimpered in pain, but the sensation went straight to his cock, make it throb and leak.

“I believe you were told over the side," Wit hissed as he yanked the Highprince into position. 

“I'm sorry!” Adolin gasped out, but Wit had already turned away from him and back to Kaladin.

“Usually he listens better,” Kaladin said.

“I'm sure he does, darling,” Wit replied. “He's just overwhelmed right now, and most of his blood is in...other places.” His gaze ran over Adolin's body, down to his throbbing cock. “Do you think he'll stay still on his own?”

Kaladin made a considering noise. “No, I don't think he will,” he said as he stepped to the side and around the bed, out of Adolin's sight. The Highprince startled a little when he felt Kaladin's hands on his ankles, and he raised his head to look. Kaladin was glowing, and he held Adolin's gaze as he ran his hands up the Highprince's muscular legs. He gripped tight when he reached Adolin's hips, silently asking him to raise them so he could slide a pillow underneath the Highprince's rear. His hands ran back down Adolin’s legs, pushing and pulling as he went. When he stepped away Adolin couldn't move, and he moaned when he realized he'd been Lashed to the bed, legs bent and spread, feet on either side of the pillow under him, hips canted up in a lewd invitation. Kaladin returned to his head, and oh-so-gently lifted his hands. He entwined their fingers for a moment before arranging the Highprince's arms with care — bent at the elbows, hands by his head — and Lashing him in place that way too. Adolin was well and truly restrained, and he didn't think he'd ever been more aroused in his life. From upside down he watched Kaladin take Wit's hand, fingers winding around each other as they stared down at the masterpiece below them.

“Oh, now this is a sight people would die for,” Wit murmured, running his long fingers through Adolin's sweat-soaked hair. That, more than anything else that had happened so far, made Adolin blush.

“He's perfect, isn't he?” Returned Kaladin's soft voice. “Now you see why I couldn't help falling in love with him.”

Both men were looking at Adolin like they wanted to devour him, and the Highprince shuddered. Laid bare, Lashed across the bed, cock drooling obscenely on his stomach, he felt completely powerless and out of control. It was intoxicating. He wanted to beg, wanted to cry, but all be could do was lay there, trembling with anticipation.

Wit smiled, that dangerously knowing smile that sent shivers up and down Adolin's spine — not quite comfortable, but arousing beyond belief.

He tugged Adolin's hair gently, and the Highprince whimpered. “He's so, so out of his mind right now. It would be a perfect time to take him apart, don't you think?” 

Adolin watched Kaladin nod before disappearing from sight again. Over the sound of his harsh breathing he heard a drawer slide open, and then the bed dipped between his legs as Kaladin settled there. 

“Wit is going to watch me break you, princeling. And then we’re going to fuck you.”

The Highprince shuddered, and Kaladin pressed two oil-slick fingers against his opening. The pillow and the position he'd been Lashed in made sense now — Kaladin could reach all the parts of him he wanted to and Adolin couldn't do anything about it. Helpless. Kaladin pushed his fingers in, not stopping until he was sunk in to the last knuckle. Before Adolin could even breathe and adjust, Kaladin was curling his fingers right into the sweet spot, and Adolin was crying out incoherently as his back arched. Every part of him throbbed and ached as he writhed on Kaladin’s fingers, and his mind blanked as a third one slid in and curled next to the others. All that mattered was Kaladin, and the way he was expertly and mercilessly stroking and pulsing against that bundle of nerves. Adolin was suddenly so close to release, tense and shivering and right on the edge, but before he could spill over Kaladin pulled his fingers out, leaving him aching and empty. He wasn't even aware he was begging until Wit stepped up and slapped a hand over his mouth. The lanky man leaned down until his face was next to the Highprince’s ear, and his voice was a murmur with an edge to it that made Adolin’s soul quiver.

“Oh, princeling. You’re not going to be allowed release until we give you permission. Do you understand?” Adolin nodded, his breath coming in shaky gasps. Wit’s long fingers slid off the Highprince’s mouth and tangled in his hair again. “Good,” he whispered. “Now, just lay back and take what you’re given like a good fucktoy.” Adolin whimpered as Wit straightened back up. The sound turned high and desperate as Kaladin shoved all three fingers back inside him. He felt like he was already on the edge again, and he was only half aware of the desperately needy noises pouring out of him as Kaladin fucked him with his fingers, and massaged his prostate until he wanted to scream.

“Shut him up, will you?” Kaladin said to Wit, and the other man grinned. 

“With pleasure,” he said as he stepped in front of Adolin’s face and slapped his dripping cock against the Highprince’s flushed cheek. “Open up, princeling.”

Obediently, Adolin parted his lips, accepting Wit’s cock as it sank into his mouth and slid deep into his throat. And then all he could taste was the combined essence of the two men intent on ruining him. Wit had wiped himself off after being buried in Kaladin, but the taste — so familiar to Adolin from the times he was on his knees for a part of his lover that wasn’t his cock — still lingered. Under it, Adolin could taste Wit. The Highprince moaned around Wit’s cock, making the man above him curse and grip his hair tighter. 

“Gods, Kaladin,” Wit ground out. “His fucking mouth. His throat.” He groaned, pushing deep and holding there. Adolin moaned around him, and Wit could hear the desperate little breaths the Highprince was taking through his nose. 

“Oh Wit, I know. And he loves it so much. Like I do…” Kaladin's fingers worked in and out of Adolin's hole, hard and fast, spreading to open him up for something much bigger. The way the Highprince was shaking made Kaladin throb, and he found he couldn't wait any longer. He needed to be buried in the tight, slick heat that he knew so well. 

Shifting up onto his knees between Adolin's spread and quivering thighs, Kaladin gripped his cock with one hand and guided it to the Highprince's hole. With a low groan he sank deep with one thrust. Without missing a beat he curled his fingers around Adolin's hips, pulled back almost all the way out, and then snapped his hips forward, slamming into his lover. He watched the Highprince's back arch almost violently where he was trapped between Kaladin and Wit, held captive by their cocks claiming him. 

Adolin was quite certain that he was on the edge of an out-of-body experience. Every inch of his skin felt like it was on fire, he could hardly move, and he could barely breathe. The cocks taking him seemed to pulse at the very core of his being every time Kaladin or Wit thrust into him. Nothing existed except those men and his overwhelming, insane desire to serve and pleasure them. He had a brief thought of taking them both deep where Kaladin was brutally thrusting, and he whined around Wit's cock, delirious. Then all thought left him, and he simply took everything he was given, floating in a haze of lust. 

“Kaladin,” Wit moaned. “Storms, you look incredible right now. The way you take him, I wish I could see him fucked open on your cock.”

Kaladin looked up at Wit from where he had been watching himself pound into Adolin, almost hypnotized by how the Highprince's greedy hole seemed to suck him in — as though begging for more and harder, because Adolin couldn't speak. The raw desire he saw on Wit's face stole his breath. Pale blue eyes eclipsed by black, onyx hair a sweaty mess across his forehead, mouth slack with pleasure. Kaladin couldn't help but look down at what was causing that expression, and he couldn’t stop the needy little moan that fell from his lips at what he saw. Adolin’s throat was stretched around Wit’s long, thick cock, and Kaladin could see the outline of the throbbing flesh. He reached out without even thinking about it. His hand settled gently around Adolin’s neck, feeling Wit’s cock move as he rolled his hips slow and deep. He squeezed, just slightly, and felt a moan vibrate under his palm. So he squeezed a little more, and felt Adolin’s hips stutter against his.

“Harder,“ Wit gasped, and Kaladin’s hand reflexively gripped tighter. Adolin writhed under him, and he idly wondered if the Highprince could even breathe. He forced his eyes up to Wit’s again as he heard his lover moan shakily. “Kaladin — Kal — I’m going to — I need you to —” Wit whispered, and Kaladin had never heard him so raw. Lust poured through him at it. He and Adolin were having such an effect on this ancient man —  who prided himself on his linguistic abilities — that he could hardly string words together. It was a rush, and it left him dizzy and teetering on the edge. He leaned forward, raising his hand from Adolin’s neck to the back of Wit’s and pulling their foreheads together. The rhythm of Wit’s hips was erratic, his breathing harsh, his eyes unfocused as Kaladin stared into their icy blue depths.

“Cum for me, Hoid,“ he whispered.

With a deep, desperate moan, Wit stuttered to a stop with his cock buried as far down Adolin’s throat as it would go. Kaladin’s eyes dropped, watching the pulse of it, watching the Highprince work desperately to swallow everything. The sight of that, and the slick, wet sound of it, was too much. Kaladin took Adolin’s hips in a bruising grip again, and slammed into him once, twice, three times before rolling his hips in close and spilling his release deep inside his lover. His mind fuzzed with it, filthy noises falling from his lips, and he was only vaguely aware of Wit sliding out of Adolin’s throat and moving around the bed. When he came back to himself Adolin was still spread out below him, cock hard and throbbing, slick with the pre-cum the was pooling on his stomach. Wit was standing to the side, looking at where Kaladin’s body connected with the Highprince. 

“Do you think he deserves release?” He asked, and Kaladin glanced up at him.

“Yes,” he answered, sliding his softening cock out of the Highprince’s hole, watching his spend leak out. He didn’t think he would ever get tired of that sight, and he heard Wit moan softly beside him.

“Release the Lashings,” Wit instructed.

Adolin was suspended in a cloud of pure, unrelenting arousal and desire. Thoroughly used and claimed in the most delicious and dirty ways, it was beyond even his wildest fantasies. He felt Kaladin fill him moments after swallowing down Wit’s release, and he could finally draw a proper breath when Wit finally pulled out of his throat. Suddenly he felt his limbs go slack from where they had been held in place by Kaladin’s Lashings, and gentle hands were rearranging him on the bed. Then warmth, pressed to either side of him. Fingers — one calloused and warm, the other soft and cool — running up the length of his throbbing, aching cock. Words whispered into his ear by a soft, familiar voice, coaxing him to “cum for me, princeling.” A clever tongue running over the shell of his other ear, breath hot against damp skin, and teeth sinking into the lobe with a soft, sighing moan. Relief. His release arced through him like lightning from the Everstorm, relentless and all consuming. Everything faded to static as his vision whited out, so far gone that he wasn’t even aware of the incoherent wail that tore out of him.

Seconds or hours later, he didn’t know and it didn’t matter, reality began to trickle back in. Adolin was warm and wet, and the latter confused him enough that he opened his eyes. He was in a bath, scented water holding his aching, abused body in steamy comfort. Kaladin sat on the edge of the tub, smiling down at him with warm, loving eyes, Wit standing behind him with a similar expression on his sharp features. A sudden lump rose in his throat, tears prickling and threatening to fall. He couldn’t stop them, and with a heaving gasp he was sobbing. Kaladin pulled him out of the bath and into his strong, gentle arms. Wit wrapped a towel around him, and sank to the floor to join them, holding them both close as the Adolin broke.

When his tears finally dried, he looked up at the men who had taken him apart. “I’m sorry,” he sniffled. “I don’t —”

“Oh, Adolin. Gemheart, you have nothing to apologise for. Are you okay?” Kaladin’s voice was soft and tinged with worry.

Adolin nodded. “I — yeah, I am. I don’t know why I was crying...”

Wit smiled, eyes crinkling with fondness. “It’s a normal reaction to something as intense as what you experienced. As long as you’re okay, and you know you can talk about anything you need to.” Kaladin nodded his agreement.

“I’m okay. I really, really am. That was...beyond anything I ever hoped for,” Adolin told them. “Can we — can we maybe go back to the bed though? The bathroom floor isn’t all that comfortable, and not all of us have Stormlight to heal our aches.” There was a smile in his voice, and it snuck its way onto his face, as dazzling as the sun after a highstorm. Neither Kaladin or Wit could resist their own smiles as the three of them made their way back to the bedroom.

Wit had changed the sheets while Kaladin had bathed a fucked out Adolin, and they were just as ridiculously luxurious as what had covered the bed before. These blankets were a rich, deep blue.

“Just for you, princeling,” Wit teased, and Adolin chuckled. 

“Where did you get this fabric?” He blurted out, as the three men cozied up under the quilt, tangling limbs and bodies together.

An almost startled laugh burst out of Wit. “After everything we just did, you want to talk about my bedding?” 

Kaladin chuckled warmly from Adolin’s other side. “Are you really that surprised, Wit? Our princeling is obsessed with the finer things in life.”

Any retort Adolin might have made faded as it sunk in that Kaladin had said “our princeling,” though his lover didn’t seem to notice the slip. Wit met Adolin’s eyes, a brow raising slightly. The Highprince responded by snuggling closer to both men, sighing in absolute contentment. He found he quite liked the idea of being theirs. As one moment flowed into the next, slowly becoming hours, the three men drifted into sleep, tangled together. It was both innocent, and yet far more intimate than anything that had transpired that night. The trust and comfort and safety shared, as their breaths mingled and their bodies rested.

It was early afternoon when Kaladin’s eyes slid open and he gazed over at the other two men. It was something he could get used to, dangerously quickly, this waking up with both his lovers within reach. He tightened his arm around Adolin’s waist and the Highprince stirred awake. There was a brief flash of confusion in his eyes as he realized there was a body pressed to each side of him, but it was replaced by pure joy and wonder as memories of the previous night came flooding back. The Highprince blushed prettily, and leaned over to kiss Kaladin, soft and chaste, before turning to press his lips to Wit’s cheek. Pale blue eyes flickered open, and a soft smile spread across his angular face.

“Well, this is an incredible way to wake up,” he said, his voice hoarse and soft with sleep.

The Highprince and the Windrunner both nodded, and the three men soon found themselves lost in each other again. And so the afternoon passed, filled with passion and debauchery and love. Everything had changed the night before, fundamentally and irreversibly, a whole new world of opportunities laid out before them. New journeys leading to new destinations, and if anything on Roshar had ever been worth swearing Oaths to, it was this. 

Not for the first time, Wit marveled at what being where he was needed had gotten him.