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How Enjin ended up here is beyond him. The moment he paused to consider that, even, a strong hand fists his hair and pulls him closer again. His face is buried in between the thighs of Kyouka Nijiku, on his knees and elbows as he does his best to satisfy her.
He’s experienced. He’s done this more times than he might want to admit, and he’s gotten damn good at it. But Kyouka is more experienced at remaining composed and firm, with only a few satisfied grunts and sighs leaving her lips between her demands for him to hurry up, slow down, switch it up, whatever. She’s already come, a brief collapse before she grabbed his hair and pulled him forward again. Enjin settles in. Who knows how long he’ll be there.
"Faster,” she sighs, slender fingers tangling deeper in his hair, red nails scratching at his undercut. Enjin obeys, tongue coming up to roll on her clit while his lips practically suction on. She groans again, pushing him closer, and he continues even when his jaw aches and begs for a break — she pulls him back. He doesn’t dare to glance up, panting before she presses him against her again. “Slow.” His lips are tired and swollen already. She’s been controlling the pace to prolong this, he knows, but 45 minutes? How is she not tired? He’s already dazed, trying his hardest not to get drunk on the taste as his tongue slides to meet her every need. He can feel a tension headache crawling up his spine to his neck, and keeps going.
A door slides open. Enjin jerks away, but is instantly pulled back before he can turn his head. He represses a grumble as he gets back to work, which Kyouka notices and does not appreciate, a nail scratching him. He won’t admit he likes it. Footsteps approach, firm and steady, pausing after a few moments. Please don’t be Zanka is all he can think, squeezing his eyes shut and dipping his tongue inside before licking back up and around her clit. A shift behind him. The bed creaks beneath him another weight, and Kyouka pulls on his hair preemptively to keep him in place. He groans, cracking an eye open to glance at whoever entered the room, but doesn't get a look. Probably a servant or a maid, or maybe that’s what he hopes — someone he’ll never see again. Whoever it is, Kyouka is strangely okay with them being there. Unreactive, almost.
Rough hands suddenly grab at his hips, not pulling or pushing, only snaking up his shirt and helping it fall forward, the warm air of the room surrounding his waist. He makes a noise of surprise and tries to pull away from the touch that settles at his hips again, but Kyouka is both faster and stronger. He's muffled as his tongue instinctively gets back to work. The hands pull at the waistband of his pants, not bothering with the button or zipper. It hurts. It draws attention to the fact that he's about half hard (okay, more) from just eating a woman out, but he's thankfully, or maybe not, on his elbows and knees, and his erection isn't in view for either of them.
Something presses against his ass, and his eyes go wide — that's a man behind him. Someone with very clear intentions as fingers hook under his boxers, letting the band snap against his hips before tugging them down. Enjin struggles, because he didn't agree to that, but Kyouka is even stronger with her thighs pressed to his temples. So fucking muscular, his skull feels like it might actually fracture, but that's honestly the least of his concerns. "H—Hold on," he tries to say, but he's muffled, buried deeper between her legs, and has to put all of his effort breathing through his nose just to stay conscious.
"You wanna take our little brother from us," Kyouka's voice is as stern as always, though a little more breathless. "Sit still 'nd take it, or you can leave alone."
Our little brother. From us. Then, behind him is…
Goka spits, saliva landing right on Enjin's hole. Oh, fuck. Enjin squirms at the sensation when the thighs around his head loosen and the hand in his hair tugs him up, heaving to catch his breath as he struggles to hold himself up with his hands. His gaze is brought up when Kyouka tilts his head back and stares down at him expectantly. Enjin blinks, then realizes the hands at his hips are still, and the room has suddenly become silent save for his own panting.
Sit still 'nd take it, or you can leave alone.
They're giving him a choice. For a second, he's actually appreciative of it, except that either way will end up giving Enjin a guilty conscious. They know what he's going to choose, and if he goes against it, then they'll be right about him, whatever bullshit they tell Zanka. Codependent, weak, unable to do anything for an actual person over his vital instrument. Hell, Goka's probably only there to scare him into that choice. He probably has no interest in fucking Enjin at all. Probably.
Fuck them. This is for Zanka.
Enjin lets his expression harden with resolve as he slowly lowers back down, presses his tongue flat against her clit and licks. There's two grunts of surprise. Enjin can't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at it, but it's short-lived when his face is tugged even closer, and his hips are gripped harder. He can do this. It's not the first time (far from it) that he's been face-down, ass-up in bed. He's done some shit he's not proud of at clubs, in the hotels above them. He can take this.
The shuffling of fabric, the ripping of plastic, the familiar sound of a condom sliding on, then feels something press against his entrance. Oh. No preparation. A bit of saliva as lube.
Can he take this?
Goka presses forward, his cock prodding deeper against him, and Enjin's breath hitches. A little strain is usually part of the fun, but he's usually been given a little more time than this. Fuck, that hurts. Tears brim his eyes as he tries to distract himself, burying his face further betewen Kyouka's legs and lapping harder, which only causes her to scratch his scalp harder at the sudden movements. She doesn't push him away, though, nor yell at him to slow down. Her thighs close in on his head a little softer this time as she lets out a breathy exhale, and Goka's cock slips past his rim.
Enjin nearly chokes, but he can't afford to. He sucks harder on her clit as his body trembles, his spine arches at the stretch, but he's taking it. Barely managing it, his throat burning with the strangled yelps trying to leave it, but he's doing it. Hah, take that, Goka, he thinks, almost chuckling a little, but Goka rams forward as if Enjin had spoken out loud. Enjin gasps, pressed further against her by the impact, his hands desperately clutching the blanket below him as the tears spill over and slide down the sides of his face. Kyouka isn't giving him a break, though — she snatches his hair and tugs him right back after glaring down at him. The noise that leaves his throat is just short of a whine.
Goka's hips stutter as he pulls back, then stops. "…Nee-san," Enjin hears him say, uncharacteristically quiet, maybe a little ashamed.
"He's fine. Keep going." Kyouka's nail scratches at the skin just above his ear, running a shiver down his spine to where he accidentally rolls further back onto Goka's cock. Like he wants it. For an extra moment, Goka seems to be re-considering… this, but before Enjin can work that out in his mind, he thrusts right back in. Enjin's groan is muffled, since his face is still buried against Kyouka's pussy, but fuck. It hurts; Goka's cock is big, the kind he can only take six drinks and twice as many cigarettes in. Enjin's mind buzzes with pain, but not without pleasure. It's there, but it's not enough. It doesn't out weight the stretch.
Goka drives into him again, then again, faster each time as the slap of skin fills the room, and Enjin can no longer properly focus on the task of his tongue. He tries, really tries, but his body moves with Goka's, so he simply lets his tongue loll out as the impact pushes him forward and back and rolls it over her clit. He swears he hears something like a chuckle, a brief huff of amusement, but he can't look up. His whole body feels like it's turning into jelly beneath him. His limbs are shaking, fingers and toes curling, but nothing he does relieves the pressure of the strain inside of him.
There, against all his will, he feels his cock harden under him. Goka just barely brushes against his prostate like this, but apparently that's enough for him as precum beads at the tip of his cock. He's so glad no one can see it. He's never been ashamed about his dick before, only a few embarrassing inappropriately-timed erections, but he right now, he wants nothing more than to squeeze his thighs together and hide it. The thought of either of them seeing that, knowing he's actually able to get off on this, that he's a slut that takes every bit of sex he can get — it's humiliating. It's mortifying.
It's… hot?
Enjin feels his cock twitch. Fuck. He's always been down for whatever, but never felt super inclined towards any sort of kink, nothing like that. Nothing like this. Sure, both of them are pretty attractive, objectively so, but that's not enough to get him down bad. Not in this situation.
Goka thrusts into him harder, his composed-Nijiku persona seeming to fade as he hears grunts and stuttering breaths, while Kyouka remains quiet. Her eyes are low and on Enjin, yet they seem unfocused, and her hips roll after his tongue so minutely, it's almost unnoticed. The fact that she's getting off on this, that the gorgeous Kyouka Nijiku is losing herself to the pleasure of Enjin's tongue is getting to him. There's a heat building up throughout him, fast, way too fast for his liking. Goka's grip on his hips is bruising, and Kyouka's thighs tense on and off against him as their breathing collectively becomes louder, faster, and needier.
Despite everything, Enjin finishes first. He tries not to let it show, shuts his eyes and represses the moan in his throat, but with his tongue still stuck out against Kyouka, he's sure he's louder than he thinks. Goka throbs inside of him, stops thrusting and buries deep inside of him, his hands trembling as comes. Kyouka, finally, lets go, pretty red lips parting as her eyes flutter shut, using her hand to move Enjin's head for the last bit of friction to chase her orgasm.
Both siblings let go of him at the same time, and his limbs fail him. He collapses the bed, face first in the mattress as Kyouka instantly slips away. They're both getting redressed, Enjin can hear, but he can't move. His body hurts, the ache seeming to spread from inside him to the tip of his spine. He heaves into the mattress.
"I will go inform Zanka. Collect yerself and be gone in ten minutes." Kyouka's voice is as cold as ever. She doesn't wait for a reply. Two pairs of foosteps recede, the door opening, then shutting loudly.
Enjin fights sleep and drags himself up. He's still mostly dressed, but collapsing forward resulted in staining his shirt with his own cum, and Enjin groans in disgust. He takes it off and re-puts it on backwards so that it will at least be hidden by his Cleaners jacket, shoves his boxers and pants back on, and stumbles out of the room.
He manages to walk normal-ish by the time he's outside, where Zanka waits by the car. The boy is staring at the ground, blank-faced, holding onto that stick for dear life — he can't imagine he was given a kind sendoff. Enjin approaches him with a smile and pats him on the shoulder to snap him out of whatever self-deprecating daze is trying to take over him, then ushers him into the car.
Zanka sits in the passenger's seat, his vital instrument leaning against his shoulder as he clicks his seatbelt, and Enjin climbs into the driver's seat. He groans when he sits down, wincing in pain. Fuck, he's going to be sore for a while, and Semiu's gonna know why in a single look.
"…Did my siblings… hurt you?"
Enjin looks over at Zanka in surprise. The boy is wide-eyed and filled with concern, staring right at his face.
"…Sparring," Enjin answers and smacks his lips, "seeing if I'm capable of training ya, or something. Your sister kinda beat my ass, though." He gives Zanka a smile. "Just a little."
Zanka purses his lips and nods, looking away, and Enjin finally starts the car and hits the gas. He pretends not to notice Zanka's gaze burning into the side of his neck.