Tachibana Tsuki is 16 years old when he prays to the forest for the first time.
Let me be the Al Jeanne Quartz deserves!
He is 17 years old when he ventures deep into the mountain. When he stumbles upon an old statue of a dog blanketed in moss. He prays again, a hand upon its snout.
Let me be the anchor for my beloved Quartz.
On the dawn of the day of his graduation, Tachibana Tsuki prays again. On his knees in the soft dirt before the now restored statue, a cup of divine wine held in his outstretched hands. An offering to the sleeping deity.
Let my sister fulfill her dream. Let her be happy. I want her to be happy...forever.
From that day forth, Tachibana Tsuki is never seen again.
Between Two Lovers (Crius/Anastasia/Tyril sandwich)
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"This...wasn't what I meant when I said yes to lessons, Master Tyril," Anastasia's voice is strained as she looks up at Tyril from where she stands behind the couch. "Although..." She then turns her gaze to Crius, who is lounging in the opposite couch with a smirk. "Why you've invited the Grand Commander is beyond me."
Tyril grumbles under his breath, "I didn't so much as invite him as he invited himself."
Hmm. The Grand Commander did occasionally butt in whenever Tyril came to find her, but it was usually during work hours when she was on duty. This time, it's after work and they were all at her home. Then again, both men were good friends and were often seen together at the tavern...
"I'm hurt, my adorable subordinate," Crius simpers and crosses his arms and legs, stretching the leather fabric tight over his well-muscled thighs. "Do you not want me here?"
She can feel a headache coming on.
Sighing, Anastasia shakes her head, "I didn't say that..."
"See, Tyr? Told you she wouldn't mind," Crius crows to Tyril, who has a disgruntled look on his face and who is glaring daggers at the viridian knight.
"I didn't say that either," Anastasia tries to say, but clearly it goes unheard as the men begin to bicker.
Tyril has his arms held akimbo now, spitting back at Crius, "She asked me first and she invited me over."
"Well you can't keep hogging her, Mister Loyal Servant of the Goddess, I want to spend time with her too!"
"You do. At work. Almost the entire day. Now just--"
The two men are clearly on a roll. As much as Anastasia wants to snap at them and tell them off like Maya would, she's oddly content to just sit there and watch. It's funny, anyway. Just like how they were arguing over her head in Rizoh, though it was much, much harder to keep her composure then.
Just the thought of it brings her back. Tyril's bare, leanly muscled upper body pressing against her back. Crius' broad, clothed form holding her against him. Both men's hands tight on her belly and lower back, holding her possessively as if they wanted her all to themself.
It was a pity she was wearing so many layers, but even then she could feel the warmth and weight of their hands, the solid heat of their bodies, and--
"Anastasia?"
Huh?
"Oi, stop spacing out."
A sharp tap to her forehead makes her cry out in surprise and Anastasia rubs at the spot, wincing up at...Tyril? The former inquisitor is now right in front of her and peers at her with affectionate annoyance. Ah, he caught her. Crius also looks at her with some concern from where he sits. Clearly the men were done with their playful bickering.
"Oh, sorry." She smiles sheepishly and shakes her head.
Tyril leans a hip against the arm of the couch and crosses his arms, conveniently blocking her line of sight to Crius. "That was an interesting look on your face while you were spacing out," he purrs, leaning in closer, close enough that his long bangs tickles her cheek. "What were you thinking about?"
Before she could blurt out 'nothing', quick footsteps approach and there is a solid presence by her arm. "Eh?" The scent of metal and polish and Garuda is familiar, as is the weight of the thick uniform pressing against her similarly clothed arm.
"Oh lay off it, Tyr," the Grand Commander croons from above her head, his arm coming around to brace it on the back of the couch, conveniently curling around her own back.
Like this, both men have caged her between them again. Just like in Rizoh.
Immediately, her face heats up.
Tyril is about to bite back when he notices the blush on her face. Instantly, the barb he poised to let loose turns into something silkier, "Oh?" Those soft, sinful lips turn up into a knowing smirk. "What, don't tell me you like this?"
His violet eyes peer into hers, searching her blushing face when she drops her gaze to his collar instead out of embarrassment. "Ah, let me guess. You're remembering that time in Rizoh. Too bad I've got my clothes on this time, eh?"
She stiffens up. Damn Tyril's perceptiveness; nothing gets past him.
"Oh?" Crius echoes, then his head dips down so that his lips brush the back of her head. Instantly, goosebumps, the good kind, make her skin prickle and cause a soft sound to slip from her tightly clenched teeth.
Both men exchange a glance over her head and smile. A silent agreement forms.
Their hands slide onto her body then. On her hips, her thigh, her ribs. Anastasia's breath catches in her throat and she whips her head up to look at Tyril with wide, ruby eyes. "M-Master Tyril--"
A nip to the shell of her ear makes her cry out.
"Don't forget me, Anastasia~" Crius purrs into her ear and sighs hotly, making her shiver all over.
"Grand Commander--I--wha--" Her stuttering doesn't make them any less smug. In fact, it seems only to spur them on.
Tyril bends his head and comes in close, so close that she can feel his breath on her lips. "So this is what you like, huh? Greedy girl." And then he catches her lips in a deep, searching kiss. The kind that takes her breath away and scrambles her thoughts.
Oh. Oh this is what it's like...
She's been kissed by him before, sure, but only ever to receive medicine during the Carnival several Fatal Rewinds ago. But this...
"Anastasia," Crius whispers in her ear, kissing down to the back of it, over the back curve of her jaw, and then to the column of her neck until he's obstructed by her tie. "Would you do us the honour of sharing you tonight?"
'Us'???
Sh-sharing?
Tonight?!
Breaking away from Tyril's kiss, Anastasia heaves for breath and scrambles for two brain cells to rub together. "Nghh how can you--" A wet kiss to her neck promptly scatters her thoughts again. "How can you ask me that when you're--" A soft snicker, then a lick to her lower lip, followed by the scrape of teeth. "You're--I can't think...!"
"That's the point," Tyril grins and kisses her properly again.
Someone's hand travels up to grasp her breast through her shirt, squeezing firmly, but gently, and she gasps with an arch of her back. "Mmh!"
"Such sweet noises," Crius murmurs into her neck. Another hand comes up to undo her tie, the brooch, and her buttoned up shirt. Whoever it is can't get past the vest, not just yet, but they pull her shirt apart enough to bare her breasts to the cool night air.
"Ah!"
The cut of her vest, more like a bustier than anything, doesn't do much to preserve her modesty without a shirt. Like this, with her shirt pulled apart, her nipples are only barely covered, and every heave of her chest threatens to bare them entirely.
Entirely embarrassed by her current state of undress in comparison to the men, she raises her arms to cover her chest. Alas, she's intercepted by two hands grasping her wrists gently, urging them down to her sides.
Crius is the one who speaks right into her ear, "None of that. Let us see you."
Though Tyril is loathe to leave her mouth be, clearly her cleavage poses a more tempting target and he dives down to lick the curve of her breast. "A-ah!" she cries out, her chin tipping up without conscious thought. "Maybe--nnh! I shouldn't be the only one half-exposed..."
"Pervert," Tyril teases her, his smile growing against her flushed skin.
"S-so what if I am?" She grows even warmer at the sight of his lips brushing ever closer to her perked nipple, her breath catching in her throat as his tongue flicks over the pebbled flesh. She manages to catch a moan behind her teeth, squeezing her thighs tight as that single touch sends lightning down her spine. Pooling between her legs.
Another hand, perhaps Crius', drifts to undo the catches to her vest, loosening it and parting it. Baring more of her pale skin now pink with the strength of her blush. "Far be it for me to deny you anything, Anastasia," Crius murmurs into the crook of her neck and he lets go of her.
Ah, his were the hands that undid her vest and at her left hand. For when he lets her go, Tyril's are on the curve of her rib and on her right wrist. Well, she doesn't have long to figure this out, because the moment Crius steps away, Tyril is leading her towards her bed and pushing her atop it.
Her mind is in a fog in the best of ways and she doesn't resist, falling on the soft surface with a quiet sound. Cool air drifts across her now bare chest until her sternum, where her shirt is still buttoned up. But it isn't long before Tyril is crawling atop her, his knees between hers, with a smile on his face.
"You look good enough to eat," he murmurs softly as he kisses her and palms her breast.
Given what she's seen and went through, that's not the phrasing she would like to hear but she supposes there's a different connotation now. Especially since he touches her with such care and adoration, with a firm and hungry grip despite how patiently he does it.
"Thank you...?" It's the only response she can think of, really, but that seems to be enough for the foul-mouthed former Inquisitor.
"Tch, so polite," he needles her, his hands wandering down her front until he undoes the rest of the buttons with his dexterous fingers. Her vest comes off, then her blouse, leaving her in only her shorts, stockings and boots. But that doesn't last long as another set of hands chip in to strip her fully.
"H-hey!" she gasps, her face heating up again. If she ever blurted out how she enjoys having their hands on her...she'd never live it down. So she bites her tongue and just breathes heavily as she is left to lie under Tyril, completely bare.
From where she lies, she can see Crius moving away to put her discarded clothes in a laundry basket. Considerate as always. Though she takes advantage of his back being turned to admire the way the muscles of his bare back shifted--wait. Bare--
It's not like she hasn't seen him half-naked before, she's sure. The men occasionally trained without their shirts on in the hottest days of summer. But it's different now. Perhaps it's the way that he saunters towards her, a hungry glint to his eyes.
"Distracted? Can't have that." Tyril's voice snaps her out of her thoughts and she only has time to let out a soft 'huh?' before Tyril rolls to sit on the bed and pull her into his lap. Like this, she's facing him and giving her back to Crius. As he planned.
Her hands land on his broad shoulders, her knees on either side of his hips, and her barely clothed cunt lands right on the burgeoning erection in his trousers. Anastasia blushes so hard she reckons she could cook an egg on her face, her thighs clenching hard on his hips.
"Heh, what a cute expression," Tyril grins and dives to mouth at the underside of her jaw.
But he doesn't get a chance to linger. Not when warm, rough hands fall on her hips just above Tyril's and tugs her away. "Be a good friend and share, Tyr~"
"Oh fuck off..."
"What the--" Anastasia can only gasp as she is tugged onto her back on the bed, her thighs pressed open and splayed wide in one smooth motion. "Could you just--" she can't get out much more than that before Tyril leans down to capture her mouth with his.
"Fine, I'll be good and share," Tyril says to Crius. He twines Anastasia's hands together with his and pin them to his chest, leaving her wide open and helpless as he smirks down at her, "Whatever you're about to say, no." That expression is as teasing as ever, growing more mischievous the more she wriggles and squirms to escape his grip. Hands grip her panties and pull them off in short measure, leaving her bare.
"Don't hide from me~" Crius purrs from between her legs. His hands are big enough that he can hold her thighs open and pull apart her labia with his thumbs, exposing her entirely.
"H-hey!" It comes out in a strained moan and a hot flush of embarrassment. "Don't look at me there-!"
Tyril presses their cheeks together and looks down at Crius with her. Crius whose honeyed brown eyes are ravenous as he looks down at her slick pink slit, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips as though he were salivating. "Why not? Look at him, bet he's never looked at anything or anyone like that before."
"I have to taste you," Crius moans and dives in without waiting another second.
And the moment his hot mouth closes over her clit, Anastasia can't stop the whorishly loud moan that rips from her chest. Her thighs tremble and manage to escape Crius' grip, but they close instead around his ears and make him moan.
"By the Goddess, you taste amazing," Crius is undeterred as he moans and slurps her up, his talented tongue slipping and sliding all over her to take every single drop of her slick. His hands move to the backs of her knees, and with a single powerful move he spreads her wide open again.
Anastasia can't find the will to bite back at that, instead she squirms and cries out at the lewd, slick sounds that come from his mouth as he licks and sucks and nibbles at her cunt.
Tyril, meanwhile, presses his lips to her ear and chuckles darkly, purring, "I bet with his senses restored, your taste is nothing less than ambrosia to him."
A whimper escapes her and she shuts her eyes tight, her blush nearly burning her cheeks.
"None of that," Tyril chides her teasingly and nips at her ear lobe, just next to the earring that the four men had gifted her not long ago, and murmurs, "Look at him. Look at what his hunger for you has done to him."
Like most orders that Tyril has given her, Anastasia finds it hard to disobey and cracks her eyes open to stare hazily down at the Grand Commander of the Wings between her splayed thighs.
The viridian knight almost looks drunk as he devours her, his mouth and cheeks and chin glistening with her slick. His talented lips suck the soft skin of her labia between them, taking every bit of slick with him as he lets go with a pop. The other side gets much of the same treatment, and he refocuses on her clit once more.
Every suck, every growl, it all pulls dirty moan after dirty moan out of her. Anastasia can't stop herself from squirming or from rocking her hips from side to side from the sheer pleasure of it all, mussing her hair against Tyril's shoulder as she tucks her face into his neck out of embarrassment.
And when Crius stretches his tongue and stuffs it as far inside her as he can, she cries out in a choked voice, "Oh fuck, please-!"
"Tyr," Crius groans out. A request.
The former Inquisitor's face takes on a surprised expression, then a knowing one. "Sure."
Without another word, both men work together to lift Anastasia up off the mattress, their muscled arms and powerful forms handling her carefully and gently despite her cry of outrage and surprise. "What are you-?!"
"Getting you into a better position, duh."
Huh?!
She's given no time to react. Not when Tyril has shifted to the head of the bed, tugging her along with him and then atop him, her back to his chest. Somewhere along the way, he lost his cape and top, leaving him shirtless but with his white pants still on, and the incredible warmth of his chest makes her blush and squirm in his arms.
His thighs are muscular under her, bearing her weight easily and letting her rest her ass in the curve of his hips. Oh, is that--
"You're--" Hard. Is what she intends to say, but she is immediately distracted by those lean, tattooed arms looping under her knees and pulling her thighs wide and to the sides. "Hey! Agh this is so embarrassing...!"
One hand goes to cover her exposed cunt, the other to her face to cover her mouth in an uncharacteristically bashful move. No one has ever seen her like this, although she acknowledges it might be a bit late, considering how Crius had his face pressed between her thighs not two minutes before.
"I didn't take you the sort to be so shy, Anastasia," Tyril rumbles in her ear, his arms pulling her legs further up to her shoulders. He revels in the shy squeak that he pulls from her, chuckling and stretching the tips of his long fingers to rub teasingly against her puckered nipples.
"A-ahh!"
Crius hums in agreement, kneeling between their legs and reaching down to gently push her hand away. "You're beautiful, Anastasia, there's nothing to be shy about," he says reassuringly, leaning forward to catch her lips in a hungry kiss.
Oh. Oh, like this, she can taste something salty, musky, on his lips. Is that...her?
Crius is forceful in his kiss, as forceful as he was in eating her out, and what Tyril says rings in her head.
'Now that he has his senses back, your taste must be nothing less than ambrosia for him.'
She can see why that might be. From the way he kisses her breathless, to the way he kisses and licks down her body, and then to stuff his face into her sodden cunt again, it's evident that the Grand Commander is hungry.
But this time, in addition to the lips and tongue working at her clit, there's something blunt and warm and firm teasing at her slit. She inhales sharply as she realises what it is - a finger, blunt and thick, easing inside her with not a single bit of resistance.
"Aaahh!" Anastasia lolls her head to the side and shutters her eyes at the intrusion, which though she has never experienced its like before, is nevertheless welcome. And perhaps...wanted? It fills something in her that she now realises is achingly empty, and she bucks her hips with a soft moan. "More...!"
"That's our Anastasia," Tyril croons in her ear and bites at her neck. The cock pressed up against her backside twitches with her moans and wriggles, a temptation, a sign of things to come.
Another finger slips inside her, stretching her in the best way possible. Hells, if this is what she's been missing out on...
As always, Tyril picks up on her thoughts, pressing their mouths together in a sloppy kiss as he purrs, "Bet you're wishing you did this earlier, huh? I agree, you definitely should have asked me a long time ago."
"Mmm Anastasia, you know you could have come to me for anything, right?" Crius finally speaks up, her clit slipping from between his lips with a lewd pop. Meanwhile, his fingers still move, slipping in and out of her, stretching her.
She feels like she's losing her mind and clings to both men like an anchor. "You both are--ngahh--equally...!" Then Crius quirks his fingers up and hits something in her that makes her jump and gasp, cutting herself off.
"Equally what?" Crius asks with a knowing smile, dipping his head to suck and lick at her clit again while thrusting his fingers in and out of her, his fingertips primed to hit that spot every time.
Alas, Anastasia is in no state to answer him, her mouth wide open as she pants for air, soft needy moans escaping her with every breath. The wettest, slickest sounds echo in the quiet room from how wet she is as he quickens his pace. Faster and faster and faster, until she's crying out with the sheer amount of pleasure wracking her body.
"Answer him, Anastasia," Tyril's fingers pinch at her nipple and she cries out again, her entire body shaking. "Or you can't cum."
No...no way! She's so close, she's...
"Please...!" she pleads, tears beading in the corners of her eyes from how overwhelmed she is.
But Crius slows his pace and she sobs, writhing in both their arms.
"Anastasia," Crius croons against her clit, giving it one broad lick. "Tell us and I'll let you cum."
Fuck. Fuck! If only she weren't so close, but...!
"I...I...!" She manages to eke out, but then Crius' fingers pull out entirely and she bites on her pride. "I wanted you both equally!"
There are two distinct chuckles.
"Knew it."
"Good."
And then two distinct mouths descending on her. One determined to steal her breath and her mind through her lips, the other intent on squeezing every inch of pleasure from her through her clit.
Either way, or perhaps because of them both together and the fingers that fuck her quickly and roughly, Anastasia comes with a muffled wail against Tyril's lips. Through her orgasm, Crius continues to fuck her, driving his fingertips against that spot that makes her jump and squirm and shake.
Her pleasure takes on a sharp edge, intoxicating in its juxtaposition against the intense pleasure wracking her body, and she can't control the way she jerks in Tyril's arms. But then something starts to boil and burn between her legs, and it feels like...like...she's about to wet herself?!
"Wait--wait no stop-!" Desperately, she tries to push Crius' hand away but it's too late to stop the deluge.
Literally.
With every thrust of Crius' fingers, fluid squirts out and drenches his forearm, his face, his chest, and even the bed under them. Again and again and again as the Grand Commander refuses to stop, even when her fluids begin to drip down his chin and onto the covers.
Anastasia feels like she's gone mad and fallen unconscious all at once, her head is spinning like a top. And when at last her orgasm tapers to an end, she goes limp with a whimper.
Crius' fingers are still inside her, but they remain blissfully still. She pants hard to regain her breath, her throat feeling ever so hoarse. Was she that loud? Oh no.
"That...was fucking hot," Tyril growls against her temple, his sharp violet eyes taking in the mess between her thighs and on Crius' upper body. "Who knew you'd be a squirter?"
A what?
The other man simply laughs and withdraws his fingers from within her with a squelch, slipping them into his mouth to suck them clean. "You should try it too, Tyr."
"Yeah, you know what? I think I will."
Anastasia laughs faintly and rolls away just as Tyril wriggles out from under her. Once on the cool sheets, she goes limp again and sighs, closing her aching legs and curling her knees up to avoid the wet patch on the mattress. "Don't I get a say?" she croaks out jokingly. "Or a break?"
A tongue flicks out to lick up the trail of slick that trickles down her inner thigh and she jumps with a gasp. "Heh, fine, a short break." It's Tyril licking her now, his nose pressing into the plush flesh of her backside.
"That's--nn--" she bites her lip and clutches the covers. "Not giving me a break!"
Wait, if Tyril's licking her, where's Crius?
Before she can lift her head, she hears cloth hitting the floor and then feels the bed dip by her shoulder. The wide expanse of a lightly tanned, muscular thigh comes into view and she follows it up to find an entirely nude Crius smiling down at her with her fluids drying on his upper body.
"Is it so bad to want you as much as we do, Anastasia?" he asks, his voice like silk as he winds his now clean hands through her sweat dampened hair, smoothing it back from her face. "That we can't bear to be apart from you for even a moment?"
Such sweet words. She thought that she is immune to them - and normally she would be - but in this situation, with Tyril's mouth cleaning her up and Crius tangling his fingers in her hair and his warmth so temptingly close, she can't think. "...No...it's not a bad thing...but I..."
"Sensitive, right?" Tyril, right on the money as always. "Don't worry, we'll be gentle. Sort of."
Sort of?
Crius leans in and presses his mouth to her shoulder, kissing and mouthing gently down her arm in a charming way until he reaches her wrist. There, he kisses it and gives her the most sultry look she's ever seen on a man, and smiles. "Do you trust us, Anastasia?"
...
As much as her head spins, she knows there's only one answer.
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