He read it.
The corner of his mouth moved.
The small, private thing.
"Congratulations," he said.
Both won looked at him.
"On giving a cheat code," he said, "straight to your hearts."
They looked at each other.
Back at him.
"My dear sluts."
He moved over them.
His thighs settling on either side of their faces — both won now positioned below him, their faces at the elevation his body had decided was the correct one.
His cock.
Hanging between their faces.
Still thick. Still glistening. The shaft coated in the accumulated record of the last hour — Nano’s slick, Sugar’s juices, his seed, the blood, all of it layered in the specific, filthy patina of a cock that had been thoroughly occupied and had not been cleaned.
The musk of it hitting both of them simultaneously.
Nano’s nostrils flared.
’I know that sll.’ ’I know exactly that sll.’ ’I woke up to that sll every morning in a life I cannot access directly and my body is accessing it right now without my permission.’
Sugar’s jaw tightened.
’He slls like himself.’ ’He always slled like this.’ ’Like sothing that belongs to .’ ’Like sothing I have been trying to tell myself does not belong to .’ ’For this entire life.’
"Clean your ss off my cock."
They obeyed.
Neither of them announced the decision.
Their mouths opened.
Tongues extending.
Nano took the left side of his shaft.
Sugar took the right.
Both tongues dragging upward from the base simultaneously — the flat, wet strokes of their mouths moving in opposite directions and eting at the top, their tongues touching accidentally around the crown.
Both won flinched at the contact.
Neither pulled back.
"Ummh— Slurrpp—" "It’s so filthy—" Nano’s voice carrying the specific quality of a woman noting sothing accurately without it changing her behavior.
Sugar said nothing.
Just sucked harder.
Her lips closing around the cockhead and pulling inward with the competitive thoroughness of a woman who has decided that if she is going to do this, she is going to do it better than the small one beside her.
Their saliva mixed on his shaft.
Running down in slow, thick threads.
His cock hardening between their mouths.
He grabbed Sugar by the hair.
"Open wide."
Before the sentence finished he pushed forward — his cock finding the center of her mouth and driving straight into her throat in one deliberate motion, his hips carrying the full force of it.
"GLUCK~!!" "HRRKK~!!" "MMMMPHHH~!!"
Her throat bulged.
The outline of his cock visible through her neck — the specific, obscene distension of a throat accommodating sothing built for a different purpose, her skin stretching outward over his shape.
Her eyes went wide.
Then wider.
Her large breasts bouncing from the impact, jiggling with the forward force of his push, her nipples stiff and pointing as her hands slapped at his hips.
He held her there.
Nose at his pubic bone.
His balls resting against her chin.
Her face going red.
Her eyes streaming.
"Every inch." His voice flat. "Down your throat."
Nano stared.
’She’s going to—’ ’She can’t breathe—’ ’He’s going to—’
"Stop it—" Her voice ca out sharp and imdiate, her hand finding his thigh. "She’ll die— let her breathe— you monster—"
The faint glow of his healing ability settled around Sugar’s throat.
Invisible to everyone but him.
Keeping her conscious. Keeping her oxygenated. Keeping her precisely at the edge of panic without letting her cross it.
Her throat convulsed around him.
The rhythmic, desperate squeeze of a body trying to manage what it had been given — the involuntary contractions running the length of his shaft, milking him from root to tip.
He groaned.
Genuine and low.
Then pulled out.
The withdrawal was audible.
A long, wet ’schluuuurp’ that left thick strings of throat sli connecting his cockhead to her gasping mouth, the threads stretching and breaking as he cleared.
Sugar collapsed forward.
"Haaah—" "Haaah—" "You—" "I can’t—" "Sob—"
Drool running from her open mouth in a continuous stream, landing on her large, heaving breasts, running down the curve of them.
He turned.
Found Nano’s hair.
"HRRKK~!!" "UKKK~!!" "MMMPHHH~!!"
Nano’s narrow neck.
The bulge of him through it unmistakable — more prominent than Sugar’s, her throat smaller, the distension more visible, her skin stretched tighter over his shape.
Her small milky breasts bouncing with the force.
Her tiny hands pressing at his thighs with the specific, ineffective resistance of soone operating well below the strength required to change anything.
Her eyes streaming.
Her toes curling.
He pinched her nose shut.
Her mouth opening wider around him — the reflex gasp of a body demanding air finding the only available path and taking it, the tiny gaps around his shaft letting thin sips through.
"Such a tiny throat." His voice rough. "Takes so well."
The healing glow settled around her too.
Keeping her at the edge.
Her throat fluttering in the specific, uncontrolled way of a cunt that has just been entered for the first ti — the sa involuntary, gripping response applied to a different surface.
"Stop—" Sugar’s voice, hoarse. "She’s smaller than — she’ll choke— please—"
He pulled out of Nano.
The long ’schluuuurp’ repeating.
Nano dropped back.
Gasping. Coughing. Thick spit bubbling at her nostrils, running from her lips, her chest heaving with the deep, involuntary draws of a body that has just been given its airway back.
He took his cock.
Pressed it against Sugar’s hair.
And dragged it through.
The wet, glistening shaft running through her dark hair — the length of him pressing against her scalp, his balls dragging across her forehead, the specific, filthy sensation of soft hair against sensitized skin making him exhale through his teeth.
"Fuck—" "Your hair—" A low, genuine groan. "Feels so good on my balls, you dirty bitches."
He alternated.
One throat.
Then the other.
Then back.
The rhythm of it establishing itself with the sa patient, systematic thoroughness he applied to everything — one woman gagging, one woman recovering, the sounds overlapping and filling the laboratory.
’Gluck-gluck-gluck.’
’Schlurp.’
’Haaah— haaah—’
’HRRKK— GLUCK—’
’Schlurp.’
Over and over.
Chips packets crackling beneath their writhing fras.
Their pussies — both leaking his earlier seed — pressing against the bed, soaking the surface, their hips grinding downward with the involuntary arousal of bodies that were registering the throat-fucking through every connected nerve ending.
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