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♡⸝⸝ Learn to Share (ft. Ashveil and Boothill)

You thought it'd be funny to make a little joke about sleeping with both Boothill and his boss, but for some reason the cowboy decides that he'd actually quite like to see that. Now you're being put to the test, trapped between a cyborg cowboy with limitless stamina and a gluttonous detective with an insatiable appetite.

♥︎ content - ashveil x fem!reader x boothill. everyone is a bisexual switch in this fic LOL. no plot whatsoever, just a whoooole bunch of smut (MDNI). teasing. vaginal sex. vaginal fingering. oral (f/m receiving). come eating. cuckolding. mild dacryphilia. masturbation. mating press. prone bone. orgasm denial. double creampie. biting. choking. aftercare. written prior to 4.1 update. AO3 link.

a/n - y'all… don't look at me oh my god, this is so self-indulgent i'm a bit embarrassed to be sharing it pfft— it's not at all related to ashfayehill (like my first post about it implied) and was purely written for x reader purposes. i fear their fic would have been way too complicated and long-winded LOL. anyway, i hope you enjoy !! i may be a pervert, but my heart is full of love and whimsy ♪

♥︎ wc 9.8k

The golden sun dips below the city's skyline, stretching its amber rays gracefully between the harsh, rigid edges of the many commercial buildings that comprise Dovebrook district. The remaining arcs of light cling like honey to the pale walls of a dimly lit hotel room as you and Boothill embrace in comfortable — almost romantic — silence.

Boothill sat at the edge of the massive, king-sized bed that lay parallel with floor-to-ceiling windows and centered against the room's eastern wall. He held you close, arms wrapped securely around your waist and ribcage, as you straddled his sturdy, leather-clad thighs. You were hanging from his shoulders with your face hidden against his neck, breath soft and shallow. You seemed tense.

Though, truthfully, anybody in your position would have their stomach in knots. After all, you had agreed to a trial of sorts. One that involved the man you had met only a few weeks ago. And one that you never could have fathomed becoming your reality. All you did was confess to Boothill that his "boss" was quite the looker, joking that you wouldn't mind sharing a bed with two rangers if given the chance. You really didn't mean anything by it — it was only a joke! But Boothill had other ideas and put everything into motion. Mostly as a courtesy to the lonely, old wolf, but also because he was genuinely curious where things could go from here.

Now you were sat in his lap, steeling yourself for the appointment that was rapidly approaching as Boothill mistook your silence for apprehension. Placing soft kisses into the crook of your neck and along the exposed skin of your shoulder, the cowboy does his best to calm your nerves. Completely oblivious to the possibility that his actions would only serve to set you further on the edge.

"We can call it off if you like," Boothill reassures. "You know I won't force ya to do anything you don't want to. Just say the word, sugar, and I'll send him on his way."

Only a moment passes before you raise your head, leaning back to look Boothill in the eye as you shake your head in gentle disagreement.

"I'm okay, love. It's just… a little nerve-racking. I've never done anything like this before." Despite being the truth, your reply comes out sounding a little too uncertain to his ears. This sets a pout on your cowboy's face.

"Just promise me you'll holler if ya change yer mind?"

"I promise," you coo at him, sounding much more self-assured this time while giving him a sweet smile.

"Good," his warm breath fans your lips as he nuzzles his nose against yours, causing you to giggle.

Your response was one he was willing to accept, reminding himself that he could trust you to tell him the truth. Your comfort and safety are of utmost importance to him, and he refused to have it any other way. He pecks gingerly at the corner of your mouth before he pulls back to get a good look at you, practically purring at the sight that he'd already seen just moments prior. Heck, he even watched you get dressed and still behaved like he was just seeing it for the first time.

Perched on his lap and squirming under his searing gaze, you wore a thin, silken nightgown with a lacy trim. Creamy and off-white in color, it framed your figure perfectly, emphasizing the curves and slopes of your body in a way that engaged the imagination. Invigorated the appetite. He would never tire of basking in your beauty, draped in delicate fabrics.

He could only hope that tonight's new participant would also share this same appreciation.

Sudden knocking at the door breaks Boothill from his reverie and makes you jump slightly in his grasp. Your awaited guest has finally arrived.

You wait in silence, now alone on the bed as Boothill had left to draw the curtains and welcome the visitor at the door. The main room is deafeningly quiet as you listen closely to the greetings being exchanged between the two men; however, you couldn't quite make out their words. They were only moments away from entering your bed and you couldn't control the ceaseless flow of sinful images that were conjured in your mind. Your head was spinning, thighs instinctually pressing together, impatient and needy, the longer you were forced to wait.

After what felt like an entire amber era, Boothill reappears, sauntering back into view with his crosshair eyes locked onto you. Following close behind is none other than Ashveil. His approach is more timid than the cowboy's, clutching his brimmed hat to his chest as if it could calm the beating of his heart. When his silver eyes finally meet yours, his cheeks immediately bloom with a rosy, red hue — the esteemed ashen detective can't possibly be this adorable!

"Detective," you address him smoothly, having successfully subdued the urge to pounce him right then and there. Part of you wants to see him melt into a puddle of embarrassment, and the other wants to see if there's something else hidden beyond those innocent, blushing cheeks. Something greedy, ravenous, or starved of intimacy.

When he doesn't immediately respond, you begin to suspect that the former would be the most probable outcome.

"C'mon boss! No point in getting shy now," Boothill nudges at Ashveil's arm teasingly. "It'd be awfully rude to leave this beauty hangin'."

The detective sputters briefly before collecting himself, brows furrowed and face burning as he sucks in a grounding breath.

"M-my apologies," he shifts his bashful gaze from you to Boothill, and then back to you. "I suppose I'm just a bit out of practice. You really must forgive me."

"Well…we can help you with that," Boothill smirks, flashing you a glance that tells you everything you need to know. He's given you an opening, and you're taking the bait.

The two of you close in on the detective, like wolves upon a defenseless lamb.

Boothill frees Ashveil's hands of his hat and cane, nimbly removes his outer coat, and sets them all neatly to the side. From the edge of the bed, you take Ashveil's hand and gently guide him to your side, making sure to not rush him on his bad leg. Once he's comfortably seated on the bed beside you, he allows himself to take a proper look at you. You follow his gaze as it travels lasciviously across the exposed skin of your body, at the suggestion of form beneath your loosely fitted garment.

For several seconds, he does nothing but take in the sight before him, and while that's all well and good, it isn't what you've set out to do. Emboldened by the way he's devouring you with his eyes, you take his gloved hand into yours.

"Don't worry, detective. This isn't a crime scene." Serving as his guide, you place his hand in the space just below your breasts. "You can touch me as much as you want."

A shaky breath escapes his lips as you encouragingly press his hand further up your body. It was honestly shocking how inexperienced and shy he was under your instruction. A man as beautiful as him was sure to have many admirers vying for his attention, so why are his movements so restrained and unsure?

Boothill takes his place behind you and interrupts your train of thought.

"Wouldja like a demonstration? I can show ya how she likes it," the cowboy drawls. His familiar cockiness riling you up and sending heat straight to your gut even without seeing the devilish smirk that's undoubtedly plastered to his face.

Ashveil's eyes leave your body for the first time to acknowledge Boothill's offer. "Please," is all he says. A brief nod and the withdrawal of his own hand to further indicate his answer.

Boothill chuckles at the gesture and suddenly he's leaned over your shoulder, hands reaching around you to grope your breasts. You sigh needily, but his touch is fleeting as they travel upward to grab hold of the lacy straps of your gown. With deft fingers, he drags the straps down your shoulders until they hang by your elbows, leaving the remaining fabric to just barely cling to the mound of your chest. He's deliberately moving at a snail's pace, making sure to breathe hot against your neck and ear, wanting to tease both you and his audience of one. And unfortunately for you, it's working exceptionally well.

Boothill delights in the way Ashveil looks at you. Attention unbroken, lips slightly parted, and an increasingly obvious tent in his slacks. You've definitely noticed it too. You swallow thickly at the thought of him getting aroused just from looking at you. Your folded legs begin to shift restlessly beneath you, barely able to withstand the tension that's building between the three of you — it's almost tangible, thick and viscous as it deprives your lungs of oxygen.

After deciding you've been patient enough, the cowboy follows through with his task and pulls your gown's neckline down to pool below your now exposed breasts. He fulfills your silent pleas for contact by cupping them in his hands while his lips latch onto the sensitive skin of your shoulder. You gasp at the initial chill of his metallic fingers, but they quickly inherit your warmth as he begins kneading your tender flesh. You were soft and pliant under his hard and unyielding touch.

You can't help it when your lungs begin to falter. Boothill knew exactly where your sweet spots were, and he didn't plan on playing fair. But what made everything feel so much more intense was the all-consuming gaze of Ashveil. He hadn't even done anything to you yet, but his presence alone was enough to heighten your senses. A whine escapes your lips, and it's clear that you want more.

Boothill's lips withdraw from your shoulder to press against the shell of your ear, his hands continuing their motions: massaging, pinching, pulling.

"What's the matter, darlin'?" The huskiness of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. "If ya want somethin', just say it. Otherwise, this old wolf might get stuck as an observer all night."

Understanding that Boothill is referring to him, Ashveil flushes an even deeper red. "Don't mock me," he warns, but it lacks any danger.

A rumble of laughter erupts from Boothill's chest and subsequently dampens the spot between your legs.

"I'm only pullin' yer tail. But you'd best do somethin' quick before I decide I want her all to myself." Upon delivering his advice, he licks sloppily into your ear, ripping an uncontainable moan from your throat as a means of spurring his senior into action.

And it does.

Ashveil, having finally mustered the courage, shifts his seated position until he can comfortably lean closer to you, hovering mere inches from your face.

"May I kiss you?" He asks for your permission, appearing determined and almost apologetic in his advances. The contrast between the behaviors of the two men bracketing you makes your mind fuzzy, and arouses you to no end. You can hardly form a coherent thought in your current state of impatience, so you opt to respond with your actions instead.

You quickly close the gap between your lips, crashing into him with unabated fervor. His lips are remarkably soft and plush against your own, and you can feel yourself become instantly addicted to the sensation. You're all too eager to deepen the kiss — dying to keep your mouth and tongue occupied while Boothill continues toying with your breasts — and Ashveil does his best to keep up with your pace. You part your lips to let him in, allowing him to lap at your open mouth as he slowly begins to realize his own growing appetite.

Your tongues mingle hastily, saliva now dripping past your lips, clinging to your chin, and the sound is downright filthy. Ashveil's hand had found its way to rest on your jaw at some point, but you've only just become aware of it because his grip has tightened. Holding you firmly in place, he nips and sucks at your lower lip, drawing out various moans and whines; some of which were his. The sound of his arousal sends blood rushing to your cheeks. It's hot and heady, and appears to have an affect on both you and Boothill.

The numerous lewd sounds have gotten to the cyborg behind you, and he becomes aware of his own waning patience. He'd simply been waiting for the cue that would allow him to take things to the next level, and when he hears Ashveil moan into your mouth, he knows it's time. He hurriedly drops his hands to where the hem of your garment sits and gathers the fabric between his fingers as he hikes it up to sit around your waist. Without preamble, his fingers dips below the waistband of your panties, desperately seeking out your dripping core.

A bolt of electricity shoots through your body when he finds it; smooth, silver fingers drag slowly between your folds, coating themselves in your slick. You gasp into Ashveil's mouth, jolting in his grasp as his junior strokes at your cunt.

The detective's eyes open to see your lashes fluttering in ecstasy. He pulls back from your parted lips to peer down between your legs, and what he finds there snaps the final thread of humility and self-restraint he'd been clinging to. He watches for a moment as Boothill's hand maneuvers steadily beneath the lacy material of your underwear; as your stomach flexes and trembles with pleasure; as your hands scramble for purchase among the sheets; as your mouth hangs open with pretty, airy whimpers spilling from your lips.

"Fuck," he utters under his breath. His eyes have darkened considerably, and his once shy demeanor is now slowly melting away.

But you don't hear nor see this. Your head is thrown back over Boothill's shoulder, eyes shut as you concentrate on the movement of his fingers. You're hungry for his attention, but he's still holding back. He does nothing but repeat the same slow and languid strokes with no intention of speeding up. He's really only aiming to cruelly string you along until you're begging for more.

Before you can even verbalize your annoyance, your eyes shoot open at the feeling of Boothill's hands leaving you only to then see your nightgown being recklessly torn from you body, followed quickly by your panties. The men seem to have reached a silent agreement when you weren't looking as they haul your body to the center of the bed, where you now lay with your back against Boothill's chest; bare and ready for Ashveil's taking.

"Since yer the guest of honor, I'll let you dig in first," Boothill says coolly. He hooks his hands under your knees and spreads you wide for his senior. Your face is burning up with embarrassment at being presented in such a compromising manner, but you don't resist it. You want this. Your cunt clenches around nothing at the sight of the fully dressed detective lowering himself in front of your naked body, an appreciative sigh leaving his chest.

"Aeons you're gorgeous," he breathes against your inner thigh. "And already so wet. Did you really want this that badly?" His hands steadying himself on the backs of your thighs — careful not to poke you with the seal-binding nail that protrudes beneath his right wrist — as he brings his face within a hair's breadth of you. You swear you're already dripping onto the sheets below when he inhales your scent deeply, his hot exhale against your most sensitive spot making you squirm in Boothill's vice-like grip.

You've been so distracted, observing him in painful expectancy, that you had completely forgotten about his question. He has to nip at your thigh with his sharp canines to bring you back to your senses, shooting you a dark and demanding look from between your legs. "Is this what you want, pretty girl?"

"Yes," you breathe, exasperated. You've got the most pitifully needy look on your face and it stirs something within Ashveil's chest. "Please, I can't wait any longer."

And with that, he eagerly obliges.

He dives in, flattening his tongue against the entirety of your cunt before licking a thick stripe up to your clit; a hungry groan vibrates against you. You cry out, finally getting closer to the feeling you've been chasing. Your hands immediately tangle in his dark hair, pulling him close enough to smother him, but he doesn't mind it. In fact, he revels in it. His mouth obediently suckling at your sensitive bundle of nerves and messily drooling all over your weeping folds. He moans when he laps at the juices that leak from your slit — the flavor heavenly on his taste buds. He whimpers when you tug at his hair after he's buried his tongue between your walls. He's diligent in his deduction of what gets you going, cataloguing each of your reactions in the back of his mind for safe keeping.

The way he's slurping at you is pornographic. Wet pops and guttural groans fill the cool, conditioned air of the room and you swears it's begun to spin. He's eating like a man starved; gulping down your essence like you're the last oasis in an endlessly sun-scorched desert.

Boothill is straining against your lower back at his point, his silicone prosthetic testing the stretch of the black leather that confines him. He wets his parched lips when he notices you're getting close, envying Ashveil's position. Your legs are shaking in his hands, hips bucking against Ashveil's rapacious mouth on instinct. He wants to be the one to drink you down, but he can learn to share if it means he gets to watch your face twist in pleasure.

"Go on, sweet girl. Cum for us. Give the boss a good taste of ya," his voice comes out gravelly, teetering on the edge of a growl.

This rapidly ushers you to the precipice of your release when, without warning, Ashveil presses a gloved digit into you, curling to repeatedly graze your g-spot with terrifying precision. And with that, you're sent instantly spiraling. A broken moan tears from your lungs as you convulse against the solid chest and hands of the cowboy as he licks and nips at your ear, studying the shift in your expression when the rolling tides of your first orgasm wash over you.

The man between your thighs continues his steady ministrations, but begins to reluctantly ease up the pace. Only when you start to whine from the encroaching overstimulation does he withdraw his now drenched finger. He places one last open-mouthed kiss to your twitching lower lips, trailing lighter pecks along your inner thigh before gently biting you. When you whine in response, he has to grapple with himself to overcome the animalistic urge to sink his teeth even further. Unwillingly, he lets your supple flesh escape his jaws as he pulls back from you.

Breathless, you go limp against Boothill. Your eyes shut as you're left reeling from your devastating high before you're gently shifted to lay on the plush comforter of the bed. You feel the bed dip with Boothill's departure from your side, but his destination remains unclear to you.

Your heart leaps into your throat when you hear the rustling of clothes being undone; the familiar jingle of a belt buckle coming loose. Curiosity gets the best of you as your eyelids flicker open, but what you don't expect to see is the two rangers now undressing each other. Boothill greedily tongues at Ashveil's mouth, chasing the lingering flavor of you on his lips and your jaw nearly drops through the floor at the filthy scene you're witnessing. It's so unbelievably hot that your body instantly perks up again; desire burning anew.

Their lips part, a string of their saliva mixed with your slick stretching between them as Boothill pulls Ashveil's compression shirt up and over his head, revealing one of the most alluring torsos you've ever seen — perhaps even rivaling Boothill's. His large, muscular chest tapers down to an obscenely slim waist that disappears beneath his high-waisted pants. But the thing that catches your eyes is the blackened skin of his right side. It consumes all of his right arm and shoulder, interrupted by winding streaks of silver along his forearm; it cascades down his chest and onto his stomach, vanishing into his waistband. You wonder just how far it goes. If it would feel any different against your skin.

You watch them with intense focus, heart hammering in your chest as they continue making out, hands fumbling with each other's buttons and zippers, desperate to shed the layers that separate them. Ashveil is the first to succeed in freeing Boothill; his proud, silicone cock finally springing from its restraints. You suck in a steadying breath, eyes glazing over at the sight of your lover's deliciously sleek curvature. Saliva pooling around your tongue with the eagerness to feel him filling your mouth.

Boothill tuts against Ashveil's lips when the latter tries to push his leather pants further down his steely legs, nudging his hands away while breaking their kiss for the last time. In one continuous movement, Boothill removes his own pants and tosses them across the room with no decorum, leaving his body completely bare. And instead of returning to stand in front of the detective, he drops to a kneel between his legs before turning to catch your eyes, knowing you had been watching their every move — ever the showman.

"C'mere sweetheart, I'd like yer help with somethin'," he calls sweetly to you.

You obediently crawl to where Ashveil stands with the backs of his legs against the bed, taking a seat just off to his right while holding Boothill's gaze the whole way. He gives you a sharp-toothed grin before taking your hand in his.

"Could ya take care of this fer me?" He brings your knuckles to his lips to kiss them lovingly. It's so gutwrenchingly sweet that your heart skips a beat; pure, unabashed adoration filling your senses regardless of what he just requested of you. But he doesn't even need to ask, you'd do anything for him.

You hum warmly in response, love blossoming in your chest as your hands find their way to the front of Ashveil's pants. Lifting your gaze from Boothill, you seek out Ashveil's to gauge his reactions to the favor you're about to fulfill. He's currently looking at your hands where they rest teasingly along his waistband, his swollen and glistening lips parted in anticipation. Spontaneously deciding you'd like to bully him just a little, you drop your hands to the spot where he's most pent up.

He stiffens, biting his bottom lip to silence a whimper as your hands work at his clothed boner. You snicker deviously beside him when his hips start to twitch, but not wanting to keep Boothill waiting too long, you return to the task at hand. Your fingers are nimble as you unbutton, unzip, and tug his pants and underwear down his thighs, graciously releasing him from his confines. You grin wickedly when his eyebrows furrow at the sudden chill of the room, his member already leaking with excitement.

"Have a seat, detective," you instruct seductively. He obeys without hesitation, the bed dipping from his weight as he sits next to you. Boothill takes it upon himself to free the rest of Ashveil's legs, the discarded pants joining the rest of the clothes that lay strewn about the room.

With his body now completely nude, you follow his altered, black skin down below his waistline. You note how it continues to descend on a jagged path past his right knee. Your inquisitiveness urges your hands forward to drag along his side and you're shocked to discover that it's smooth — unnaturally lacking imperfections. It's similar to how wounded flesh never fully returns to its natural state, but in a way that doesn't feel quite human. But you're not at all unsettled by this; it only piques your interest further. Your hands continue their survey as they drag along his chest, shoulder, back, and finally his arm where your fingers meet the bits of silver that wind around his forearm.

The contrast is stark. From smooth black to solid silvery planes that jut slightly from the surface of his skin. They remind you of the steel panels of Boothill's body, but they bend and curve with him as though they're one with his organic flesh.

You notice that he's begun to tremble beneath your touch and you're suddenly struck with a realization: this could very well be an injury and your inconsiderate touch might be causing him some degree of discomfort.

"Does it hurt?" You lift your eyes to his face again, but he doesn't meet your gaze nor answer your question. Instead, he seems entirely focused on something happening below him.

Guided by his line of sight, you see it.

Boothill has Ashveil's cock grasped in one hand as his tongue travels from the base to the tip. His glowing red eye is honing in on every minute change in Ashveil's countenance, but briefly shifting to lock onto you as you join the action. Your cheeks burn under his piercing gaze and the air is stolen straight from your lungs. Fuck. You've never experienced penis envy as severely as you do in this moment.

But you also wouldn't mind being in Boothill's place either. Ashveil looks absolutely delectable as your lover continues to lick stripes along the underside of his shaft, lathering him in spit.

For a moment, you live vicariously through both of them, pressing your chest into Ashveil while the heat swirls in your gut again. The needy, breathy whines from Ashveil; the slurping and dragging of Boothill's lips. They're both so intoxicating and you can't just sit back and watch for long.

With Ashveil resting most of his weight on his arms, he's leaned back just enough to allow you some wiggle room. You bend down, the side of your head resting against his lower stomach as you come face-to-face with Boothill, mouth full and eye lidded. The angle is awkward and a bit uncomfortable, but you don't want to be anywhere else.

Boothill frees his lips with a pop before he smirks at you. "Come to get a taste, princess?" He asks, but it isn't a question.

Leaning around the member that divides you, he plants a wet, open-mouthed kiss to your expectant lips. His tongue is salty when it slides against yours and you moan into his mouth. You're desperately licking further into his wet cavern when he slowly guides you back to where Ashveil stands, waiting and twitching at the thought of two tongues working at him while simultaneously working at each other. The two of you part just enough for his tip to slot itself between you again and the scene is utter debauchery.

You can feel Ashveil's abdomen tighten against your temple when you and Boothill begin licking in tandem, moans muffled against his cock as his intoxicating taste and smell overwhelm your senses. He is quickly unraveling above you, his chest heaving and breath staggering as he fights to contain himself for even a second longer. He doesn't want to finish yet.

But he can't help himself when your tongue bullies the sensitive spot just below the upper ridge of the head. One of his hands tangles roughly in your hair to hold you in place as he shudders, white ropes of his release erupt between your lips and fall messily against your cheek. You let him grind himself along your parted lips as he rides out his orgasm, your eyes hooded and glassy as they remain locked with Boothill's while he licks away whatever is left on the tip.

When Ashveil's hips have stilled and his hand leaves your hair, you slowly return to your seated position, licking your lips clean of his salty, sweet essence.

Boothill ogles you as some of the stickiness drips from your cheek and onto your lap, your hair mussed and cheeks rosy. You look absolutely divine and he's going to ravage you next. He doesn't even waste a second before he's on you. His mouth licks your thighs clean of Ashveil before he moves to do the same to your cheek. The substance gathers on his tongue before he presses it into your mouth, your lashes fluttering shut in response, accepting his advances in earnest and without protest. Arms come up to encompass his neck as you cling to him.

Within a few seconds, he's corralled you back to the center of the bed, never interrupting your kiss until he's resting between your legs. You can feel him pressed firmly against you — in the place where you need him the most — and before he even has the chance to do anything about it, you're whining like a bitch in heat.

"Boothill, please, inside… I need you inside me, now." You beg without even being told to and he chuckles at how good you behave for him.

"Patience, sweet girl. Let me get prepared first," he coos reassuringly. His fingers come up to rest against your bottom lip, waiting for admittance when he breathes a command. "Open up."

You obediently take his fingers into your mouth and begin lathering him with spit, licking between each silvery digit and coating him generously. When he deems them wet enough, your arms drop to your chest as he sits back on his heels and brings his hand down to pump at his erection. He does his best to transfer your saliva from his hand to his length, but decides that he'd best be thorough for the sake of your comfort — or at least that's what he convinces himself to believe, free of ulterior motives.

To get the extra lubrication, he lays the underside of his cock flat against your soaked pussy and grinds on you. The slippery squelch that rings through the air makes you whimper. He drags himself through your wetness once, then twice, and then again and again. Your hands have taken hold of his shoulders and your nails scrape at his metal. You're trying so hard to suppress the suspicion that he's purposely dragging this out longer than he needs to just to piss you off, but he incriminates himself when he smirks at you with that damned cocky glint in his eye.

Bastard, you think as you chew at your bottom lip, doing your best to endure his torment for a little while longer.

Boothill takes great pleasure in the way that your eyes narrow at him, how your eyebrows quiver as they struggle to decide whether to be satisfied or upset. He'd absolutely love to give you a chance to cuss him out, to wrestle pointlessly against his immovable body, but he can hardly endure another moment of his own teasing. He needs to feel you swallowing him whole.

Just as you're about to open your mouth to get bratty with him, he pulls his hips back, a hand to steady himself as he presses against your entrance in earnest. Not once does he break eye contact with you as he slips past the threshold with astonishing ease; a line pinched between his brows, his pupil starts to glow red again with every inch that gets buried within you. The overwhelming warmth of your walls is familiar and yet it still drives him wild each time he sinks to the hilt, breathing out sighs of satisfaction at how perfectly you squeeze him.

Your hands have begun running along the grooves of his perfect, steel body. The one you've come to know by heart from the seconds, minutes, hours you've spent admiring his immaculate form. A soft moan dies behind your lip as you continue to hold it firmly between your teeth.

"That won't do, sweetheart. Let us hear you," Ashveil chimes in.

He'd been observing you and Boothill being sweet on each other for some time now, only needing a moment to recover before deciding he's ready to get a closer look. Settling by your side, he nuzzles his nose against your ear sweetly before cruelly mirroring what he saw Boothill do to you earlier in the night. His tongue darts from his lips and swirls lewdly in your ear, and just like before, the sensation, combined with the feeling of Boothill's completely engulfed shaft, tears an unbridled moan from your lips.

"Good girl," he praises and has you moaning again with only the sultry husk of his voice in your ear.

After hearing you announce your pleasure, Boothill is propelled into action. His hips start a steady pace, pulling back until only the tip remains before leisurely sinking back into you until he's fully engulfed again; each drag of his cock along your walls has him moaning back to you, but he only allows you a moment to re-acclimate to the stretch before he's craving a deeper angle, wanting you to suck him in even further. He momentarily interrupts his own rhythm to draws yours knees up to your chest, resting your ankles against his shoulders as he kisses affectionately at the skin of your calves.

You mewl at his blatant display of affection while he's completely buried in your cunt, absolutely savoring his sweetness despite there being no shortage of it.

Once he's had his fill of body worship, Boothill leans down, arms planted firmly at your side, to capture your lips in a searing kiss. Your mouths fit together like puzzle pieces and your tongues converse like old friends. Your hands comb through his black and white hair before they take hold at the back of his neck, rubbing and scratching pleasantly at his skin as if to beckon him closer. Without needing to adjourn the kiss, Boothill begins to thrust into your heat again, moving with purpose and intent as he strives to give you everything he has to offer. The new pace that he sets isn't rough by any means, but it still has you crying into his mouth at the sheer pressure of him in your gut.

Always so observant, Ashveil had halted his singular attack on your ear to fully witness what was unfolding before him. He could see just about everything from where he lay at your side and he grew hard at the sight of Boothill folding you into a mating press; which gave him a clear view of your point of connection. His mouth watered when he saw Boothill disappear into you, your body so eager to envelop him over and over again. His pulse and temperature rise exponentially as yours and Boothill's combined moans and the wet sounds of separation ring through his ears. Being part of the lonely audience is driving the detective crazy with need, and if he doesn't find something to distract himself soon, he fears he might spontaneously combust. To remedy himself, he decides to resume his previous activity and attaches himself to your ear again.

Your ears have always been especially sensitive, so the abrupt attack from Ashveil has you babbling, moaning, and whining incoherently into Boothill's mouth. The complete and prolonged bombardment by these two men spells your imminent undoing as you fight to remain coherent in spite of their onslaught. The relentless plunge of Boothill's hips as he effortlessly hits the right spot, the overwhelming sound of Ashveil licking and sucking at your ear, it all becomes so oppressive that tears begin rapidly building at your lash line. They stream down your cheeks when you squeeze your eyes closed, thinking to yourself that maybe if you can't see anything, you would be able to reel yourself back to safety; to ground yourself and minimize the damage of the earth-shattering climax you're about to experience. But Boothill won't let you.

"Look at me, baby," his voice is so soft and pleading against your lips that you comply without question — or without much thought at all —, effectively sealing your fate when you see that he's looking at you with hearts in his eyes. His expression is so utterly lost in pleasure, in the feeling of you, that you're instantly done in at the first sight of him.

The tether snaps and you're sent hurtling across space and time with no lifeline in sight. You thrust your head back into the pillows beneath you as your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, body shaking and hands gripping at Boothill's roots as though they could anchor you to reality. He groans in response and your walls spasm violently around him, innately seeking to wring him of everything he's worth. Your second orgasm rips through your body, igniting every inch of your nervous system and setting your skin ablaze. Finally, your voice returns as broken, shaky cries escape you.

Boothill grits his teeth when he feels his own peak closing in on him, grunting and groaning in concentration to keep himself from expiring too quickly. Only when your moans begin to regulate does he let himself go. With a long, drawn out moan, his hips stutter against you. Pumping one last time with his full range of motion before he's spilling, hot and sticky, into your womb. He goes rigid, breathing heavily as your cunt swallows up all that it can from his leaking member.

Tears continue streaming from the corners of your eyes, past your temples and into your hairline, as Boothill kisses them away and rocks into you steadily to ride out both of your highs. It takes a while for your tense muscles to relax again, your body no longer trembling, but still occasionally jolting in response to his gentle movements. You can feel his excess dripping from your folds each time he moves against you, only to push what remained deeper into your core. Your cheeks burn at the thought.

When your breathing returns to normal, Boothill pulls out, the most obscene squelch announcing his departure. You whimper at the sudden emptiness, but are grateful for this moment of rest when he removes your legs from their inclined position at his shoulders. He slumps at your side, opposite of Ashveil, as he cuddles into you; kissing at your shoulder, jaw, and cheek before settling to nuzzle into your hair.

"I love you," he whispers. Your heart fluttering innocently as you turn to him and respond in kind.

"I love you too."

At some point during your climax, Ashveil had withdrawn from you to address his own arousal. He'd been pumping incessantly at himself to no avail. He needed something more to sate his appetite, but he's polite enough to give you time to recover and canoodle with your lover. Instead of outright stating his need and requesting your immediate attention, he opts to mouth and nibble at your shoulder, hoping you'll turn his way sooner rather than later.

Only about a minute had passed before you turn to look at him, suddenly feeling guilty for having left him unattended for so long. You're still a bit spacey, but you've never struggled with stamina or want before; even with a cyborg, built for power and endurance, as your partner. Perhaps you could be labeled a nymphomaniac, but you didn't care.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, detective," you coo as you fully turn your body to face him. "Can I help you with anything?"

Your voice is soft and breathy, body heavenly as you lay tantalizingly pressed into his chest. One hand rests at his collarbone while the other strokes lightly at his jawline. He clenches his teeth to calm the beast within him that wants to devour you.

"I want to feel you… please, use me however you like. I just need to feel you on me." He sounds a bit pathetic, but in a way that makes you want to ruin him. You want to make him beg and cry and whimper for more, so that's exactly what you'll do.

You sling your leg around his waist before hoisting yourself upright to straddle him, your hands planted on either side of his head and trapping him where he is. Remnants of Boothill drip onto his lower stomach and his hardened shaft nudges at your ass. You smirk at how he's already biting back a whine.

"You're so polite. I suppose I do owe you a reward for being so well-behaved," you ponder aloud as you lean down to press your chest against his. "But be warned, I don't play very nice from up here."

His eyes widen at your threat, but instantly shut when your lips collide. You bite and tug at his bottom lip before shoving your tongue into his mouth. He moans against you and his hands fly to your hips as he bucks into you on instinct, but this earns him a particularly harsh nip to his lip.

"Careful, wolfie," you warn. "You're not the one in charge here…"

He whimpers like an abandoned puppy, if he had wolf ears they would have flopped to the side of his head in defeat.

"If you keep up your good behavior, I'll let you take over when I'm done," you bargain with him and suddenly his make-believe wolf ears perk up again.

Your lips return to his, licking and prodding at him as you please. You let him squeeze at the flesh of your hips as you drown yourself in his plush kisses. The sounds he makes as he works to maintain focus are so infuriatingly sexy that you can no longer ignore the way you're pulsing with desire again. Only able to last for a few minutes against his whiny lips, you lift your hips and grasp his throbbing cock in your hand, parting from the kiss.

He nearly cries out at your tight hold on him, but successfully bites it back behind his canines. His gorgeous incisors pressing brutally against his lower lip. When you hold him directly to your entrance his eyes screw shut, his toned abdomen hardening beneath you as he readies himself for what's to come.

"Open your eyes," you demand. When his pretty lashes flutter open again, you immediately collapse onto him, burying him within your walls in a split second. Fortunately for you, being on top gives you more control and thus improves your resolve substantially. You can toy with him like this without worry of succumbing to the pleasure too quickly.

Ashveil moans loudly, unable to bite it back this time. His nails dig into your hips as he struggles to get used to the tight fit; the nails of his prosthetic fingers leave red half-moons in your skin when he slowly starts to loosen his hold. However, he can't quite catch his breath, and you aren't considerate enough to let him return to baseline before you repeatedly raise and drop your hips on him like a tamping rammer.

Boothill watches, amusedly, from the sidelines. He loves it when you get like this, though he pities the man under you as he's laboring tremendously just to breathe. He didn't realize the boss was so high-strung. Even if he hasn't taken anyone to bed in a while, surely he couldn't have gotten this pent up, right?

The cowboy simply wasn't aware of how wrong he was. The broken-legged wolf hasn't had the time nor energy to lay with someone — much less court someone — in the last several decades. When he isn't on a case, eating his delivery meals, or out drinking with his old buddies, the detective is busy hibernating in the cryotherapy refrigerator that sits in the corner of his cramped office. He hasn't felt the touch of a lover in Lan knows how long. One could only imagine how much the voracity within him aches to be fed.

Tears begin to well up in his eyes, threatening to slip past his lashes. The clap of your ass against his lap is wicked, and he wants so badly to match your rhythm from below. But he remains bound to your agreement, hanging onto the deal you struck like it's the only undeniable truth left in this world. He reminds himself that the payout will be well worth the hell of idleness that he must endure. His tears fall as his moans become ragged, chest heaving while he ogles your breasts while they bounce tauntingly in front of him.

"Tell me what you want," you demand.

Without so much as a thought, he whines breathlessly. "Please. I want to fuck you. Please. Please let me fuck you."

"Fuck. Be a good boy, and I will," you chew at your bottom lip to calm yourself as best as you can; you hadn't expected such a quick and easy answer. His unabashed response took you by surprise and honestly made it really difficult for you to remain stoic in your endeavors.

His needy sobs fill the air, punctuated by the moist slap of skin and your breathy sighs. He's obeying you so thoroughly and crying so prettily that your authority is beginning to falter. Since the silent acceptance of your pact, he hasn't acted on his instincts at all, save for his hands that claw at your skin. He wants this badly.

As you approach your third, you're beyond ready to pass him the torch. With a few final bounces, you clamp down on him and moan as you hit a shallow, but satisfying peak.

You crumple against his chest, face pressed into the crook of his neck and realization settles in his stomach. He swallows thickly at the thought. It was finally his turn to take control.

"Is… that all?" He inquires jokingly between puffs of staggered breaths.

"Can it, mutt," you cover his mouth with your hand, an utter lack of heat in your words.

He grins against your palm, collecting himself with a few steadying inhales before he laps wetly into your hand. You squeal at his offense, but before you can tear your hand away from him, his fingers firmly encircle your wrist. He holds you still as he starts to playfully nibble at the space between your pointer and thumb.

"Well, I hope you're ready. You've only made my hunger worse," he noses at your fingers. "And I'm playing by your rules, so don't expect me to be gentle."

The last bit comes out as a low growl, his teeth bared and grazing your palm. Your heart drops in your chest. A chuckle rumbles through him when he feels you clenching in response.

With a huff of air through his nostrils, he rolls over to trap you beneath him, still completely sheathed. Finding your second wrist, he raises both to pin them above your head in a single, vise-like grip. His eyes are dark as they scan your frame, a dangerous grin splayed on his lips as he comes into his dominance. He dips his head to lick a thick stripe along the center of your chest, pausing at the space where your clavicles meet.

"There's only so much bullying an old wolf can take," he sighs, mostly to himself, but loud enough for you to hear it.

You're about to open your mouth to apologize to him, but your words instantly die in your throat when he inhales deeply against your jugular, his eyes closed as he hones in on your scent. You suddenly feel like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a wolf. His nose drags along the exposed skin of your arms and chest, stopping at seemingly random points along their route to simply sniff, like a bloodhound on a trail. The uncertainty of his intentions makes your breaths shallow, your heart stuttering in your chest as you go completely still to let him continue searching without interruption.

Boothill is looking on in awe at this point. He knew his senior wasn't someone you should take lightly, but this side of him was completely new to him and honestly had the cowboy a bit on edge. He wasn't entirely sure of where this was going, so he makes it a point to keep his guard up in the event that he has to step in. His eyes constantly darting between your face and Ashveil's to get a proper read on the situation.

When Ashveil's nose halts at your breastbone, you hold your breath as you await his verdict.

A final breath heaves from his chest, as if letting himself off a leash, when his eyes meet yours. His once silvery orbs have disappeared and given way to something much darker. They're abyssal, but his pupils have a reddish-pink glow. They no longer look like they belong to the shy detective who couldn't even meet your gaze without blushing. The man above you felt like an entirely different person, but you're not given time to ponder any further when he bares his beastly fangs and engulfs one of your breasts without warning. You yelp out in shock — your heart nearly leaping out of your chest — at the sudden pressure as he holds you between his sharp teeth and swirls his thick tongue across your supple flesh. His hips begin moving again, establishing a brutal pace while his free hand clutches at your unattended breast.

You scream and strain against Ashveil's unshakeable hold, the sensations too abrupt and profound for you to really process what is happening. But you do know one thing with absolute certainty: you're really fucking excited. The apprehension had morphed into a morbid arousal when you realized that there was, in fact, something frightening lurking beneath Ashveil's mask. Something voracious.

Your cowboy is just about ready to pull the plug on your behalf when he hears your initial scream, but pauses halfway when it turns into strangled moans. He blinks at you, leaning in closer and thoroughly studying your countenance to better gauge your current state. He notes that your eyes are screwed shut, brows creased, and face impossibly flushed as your mouth hangs open in overwhelming satisfaction. A huff of relief leaves his lungs, understanding that you're doing perfectly fine despite how rough Ashveil is being. For the time being, he decides to settle closer to your side, silently keeping a close eye on you.

Ashveil, not noticing Boothill's proximity, releases your breast and moves on to leaving bite marks across the expanse of your chest. His pace hasn't wavered, his cravings far from being satisfied as he continues to ram into you. You're scrambling to catch your breath and your arms are still wrestling for freedom, but he doesn't care; entirely focused on marking your chest to his liking. The only thing that catches his attention in the end is your body signaling to him that you're on the brink of yet another climax. He raises his hungry gaze to watch your face as he gets you painfully close to the edge before cruelly withdrawing from you.

A labored sob escapes your lips and your eyes fly open to look at him as he leaves you high and dry. Your hips buck uselessly in search of him, only to earn a predatory chuckle from the perpetrator.

"Ashveil," you whine, voice going hoarse from all your screams and gasps. "S'no fair!"

"You started it, dear. Now turn around," he commands as he releases your wrists.

Hardly comprehending his request, you blink cluelessly at him; your mind still reeling from his prior mistreatment. Your inaction seems to agitate him as he impatiently tugs and pushes you into his desired position: flat on your stomach.

While reorienting yourself, you're met with Boothill's comforting visage as he lay propped up on an elbow beside you. Your teary eyes are captivated by his familiar beauty as he leans in to kiss you.

You sigh longingly when he breaks the kiss to speak. "Ya farin' alright?" He asks and to which you nod the affirmative.

However, your moment of respite is cut short when Ashveil bullies his way back into your cunt from behind. The weight of his body pressing into your back as he bottoms out with an animalistic groan. You gasp at the sheer fullness you feel — not just between your legs, but all the way up to your lungs and throat.

The starving beast on top of you picks up where he left off, his hips snapping ruthlessly against your rear as he fucks you deeper into the bed below. Your mind goes blank as he hammers into you, using your body as a means to an end. If you could form any coherent thoughts, you'd be going wild over the idea of being used by such a pretty man. Instead, you're fucked senseless and left with your eyes rolled back and jaw hanging open in a silent "oh".

When Ashveil's peak is finally within reach, he lets you know by biting down on your shoulder hard. It isn't quite enough to draw blood, but you'll definitely be bruised in the morning. You scream out in protest, but your inner muscles tighten violently around him; constricting him as he chases after his high. In one swift movement, his arm snakes up the front of your body to capture your throat in his claws. Your lashes flutter as he squeezes at your jugular, restricting the flow of blood to your brain.

His growls are fragmented against the aching flesh of your shoulder and his thrusts have become desperate and erratic. He's huffing exasperated breaths through his nostrils and into your hair when suddenly he stalls, hips jerking sporadically when he empties into your already filled womb. He mixes shamelessly with Boothill at your core.

Feeling the hot mess oozing from your cunt, onto your thighs and the sheets below, sends you over your own edge. Boothill, having watched over every second of this encounter, recognizes your approach and kisses at your gaping mouth, trailing across your lips and along your jaw. He soothingly talks you through it with repeated encouragements like: just like that, you're doing so well, you're perfect, and don't hold back.

Your final release is rapturous as you choke on your moans, mind fuzzy from the lack of blood flow and the severe dichotomy between the actions of the two men before you. The sheets below you are sure to be soaked through as you gush around the cock that remains buried to the base. Ashveil had finished, but he continued to grind against your ass to let you revel in your high for a while longer.

Loosening his hold on your neck and releasing your shoulder from his maw, having returned to a state of clarity, the sated wolf licks apologetically at the indents left by his teeth. He feels a bit guilty for letting himself go to such an extent, but your quivering body and soft mewls calm his anxieties. When your sounds subside and devolve into stable, heaving breaths, he removes himself from you and collapses at your side. A hand remaining at the small of your back to rub affectionate shapes into the damp skin.

Boothill continues peppering your face with kisses when you fall into the pillows below you. He brushes your hair behind your ear, looking at you adoringly before he leans in to nuzzle and kiss at your moist temple. "You alright, love?"

You don't open your eyes, still absolutely wrecked, but you hum pleasantly in response.

With one last kiss, Boothill shifts to leave the bed. In a few moments he's returned to your side with towels and a bottle of water. He breaks the seal on the bottle, but leaves it closed near your hand while he busies himself with wiping you down. You sigh contentedly at his gentle strokes across your forehead and cheeks.

Ashveil recovers himself and aids Boothill in cleaning you up. They work together to delicately maneuver your body, treating you like precious porcelain and making sure they don't miss a single inch of your skin. Occasionally they'd pause to press their lips against your figure in an act of reverence. By the time they've completed their self-imposed assignment, you've recuperated enough to take a couple of sips from the water bottle Boothill had left you.

The two excuse themselves briefly to take care of the residue left on their own bodies before they reunite with your sides; Boothill on your right and Ashveil to your left. Both of them nestle against your neck, breathing in your scent. Boothill pulls a fresh blanket over your bodies before his arm wraps around your ribcage, resting just below your breasts as his hand rubs soothing circles into your skin. Ashveil intentionally remains outside of the covers, but his arm rests at your hipbone, massaging you through the blanket to the best of his ability. Tranquil silence hangs over all of you like a gossamer canopy, filling the spaces in-between with intimate breaths.

Ashveil is the first to break the silence.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he whimpers, his warm breath fanning your jugular. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I completely understand if you never want to see—"

You interrupt him before he can finish his rambling. "I'm okay, Ashveil. You don't have to apologize."

A small sound escapes him when you bring your hand up to pet at the side of his head. He sniffles lightly under your reassuring touch, so relieved that he's moved to tears.

You giggle when you realize he's crying for the second time tonight. "Y'know, for such a powerful man, you really are quite sensitive." This earns you a weak grumble as he buries his face deeper into the crook of your neck. "I think it's cute."

"He is pretty cute when he's being a crybaby," Boothill chimes in. "Though I must admit, ya really threw me for a loop when ya got on top."

The detective, knowing Boothill is addressing him, raises his head to look in the cowboy's direction. A look of genuine concern on his face. "Why didn't you stop me?"

"She was enjoying it," he answers plainly.

Your cheeks burn at how his statement leaves his lips with such nonchalance. You don't add anything to the conversation as you hide your face in your hands.

"Aw sweetheart, feelin' shy even after everything's been said and done?"

Ashveil is also left speechless, a flush on his cheeks as he processes what's been said.

"Oh c'mon, why're ya both bein' so bashful all of a sudden?" The cowboy continues to poke fun at you two.

But you can't handle anymore of his taunting and clap a hand against his lips to shut him up. "Leave us alone!"

He laughs warmly against your palm before kissing into your fingers.

"I'm just joking, baby."

The three of you continue to bicker and joke for some time before you start to doze off between them. Perfectly comfortable in their combined embrace. You didn't have to say it, but each of you knew that this wouldn't be the last time a meeting like this would take place.

♡ afterword - oh hey, 'ppreciate you for making it this far. hope my bootveil likers enjoyed the lil bit of early game action ehehe. i would honestly have leaned even harder into the bootveil moment, but i wasn't sure if there was any demand for that LOL is bootveil nation out there? do they exist? please welcome me into the gates of heaven, i am so fucking desperate, PLEASE !! anyways, thank you sm for reading !! (˶>⩊<˶)

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