My Little Ventrue Pt. 03 Ch. 15

Matt kept his hand around her leg so it remained hooked against his body, and he started to push into her. With the whole of his length already inside her, his motion rubbed his body against her, his cock against her depths, against... against Art, against how his girth was filling her up too. No room at all! Every gentle rock of Matt's tender motion was making her whimper, especially as he started to ease his cock out of her, and her muscles clenched down as hard as they could. The friction of his girth along her drenched, taut insides, and how Art made everything so, damn, tight, was filling her body with tingling waves until she started to see spots again.

And Art started to move too. Matt gently fucked her with long, deep strokes, but Art stayed inside her, deep, deep enough she could feel him pressing toward her belly, toward his friend. Art's motions were shallow, fucking her in slow thrusts only an inch deep, but staying as deep as he could, deep enough her ass was pressed tight to his pelvis. All she had to do was lay there between them, with Art's fingers around her throat, with Matt's hand around her leg, and try to survive.

Easier said than done. As Matt sank every inch of himself into her, until again, she felt him stretching her deep, her breath caught in her chest. If he had thrust hard it would have really hurt, but he kept it slow, gentle, the thick head of his cock rubbing against her deepest parts and pressing against where Art's cock was pressing against too. Too much, way too much.

She came. Hard. Her arm hugged Matt tight, her other underneath her gripping Art's wrist, and her leg hooked Matt's thigh, as the pleasure started to rock her. The two beasts sank themselves into her again, to the hilt, and slowed down for her. But they didn't stop. They continued to fuck her, gentle, tender thrusts, as she came all over them. Each spark of pleasure rippled out from between her legs and down into her toes, making them curl, making her body squeeze and tremble, making her eyes close and her voice come out in whimpering squeaks again.

Her cum came flooding. She whimpered into Matt's chest and hid her face against it as she quivered between spasms, each forcing her muscles to clench and for more of her fluids to leak out of her. She tried to stop, but the two wolves kept thrusting into her in a gentle, consistent rhythm, in sync with each other and each of them insuring they were both fully inside with each motion. Like cogs working together, working more of her cum out of her, until she could feel the warmth of it trickling down her thighs, over her legs, and soaking the sheets. She was leaking, all over Matt's cock.

The two beasts slowed to a stop, and she spent the next thirty seconds doing nothing but squirming on their cocks as the pleasure waves continued to work up and down through her body. She managed to look up at Art, and his fingers loosened into more of a caressing grip, fingertips and thumb stroking the soft skin of her neck, as her ass squeezed on his girth. Matt did the same, grip on her leg softening but keeping her snug to his body, even as his fingers started to massage and knead the muscles of her thigh.

"You soaked me," Matt said.

"I... I-I-I... um..." Good god she had soaked him. She didn't normally do this, get this wet, only if she was very, very, very aroused, and feeling experimental. Not even with Jessy's ghouls had she ever made a mess like this though. No use in denying it.

"You really like this sort of thing," Art said. Before she could respond, or protest, he started to slide his cock out of her, only to push it back in once he'd removed half of himself. Her body fought to create room, to accommodate so much filling her up, until she was reduced to whimpers again as the head of his cock pressed against that spot, that deep spot where the head of Matt's cock was stretching her inward.

Her insides felt like they were going to burst. They were both big guys! And she was a small woman! It was... it was a lot of flesh trying to fit inside her. Warm, living, hard flesh, stretching her and... filling... her.

"You... please, d-don't... tease me."

"Us, teasing you?" Art chuckled

"You do tease her," Matt said. His hand around her leg slid along her thigh, up her ass and waist, up her arm to grab her hand and bring it to his lips. Her fingers traced the scuff of his cheeks before Matt put her fingertips between his teeth, and ever so gently nibbled on her.

"I—nn!" She tried to say something, but Matt pulled out of her, and thrust back into her with a little more force. Not hard, not like a normal sex rhythm might find, but with how big he was, and how little space was left inside her, a gentle thrust was more than enough to make her squeak, and make her arm and leg hug him tight.

They both started to fuck her. They'd been content before to keep their strokes gentle and deep, but now they were pulling out a large amount of their length, and again sinking into her. She could feel every inch of them sliding in and out, friction against the sensitive parts of her, aching, swollen, coated in more and more of her cum as she panted against Matt's chest.

Slowly, the two started to go faster. Over minutes, Matt started to thrust into her hard enough she felt her ass hit against Art. Thank god Arturo kept his pace reasonable, gentle. Rough anal sex was a no no for her, and Art knew it. Maybe he wasn't so evil. But Matt felt no such limitations, and he started to thrust into her harder, faster, each thrust earning a squeak. His thrusts were no longer as deep, giving her tender depths a break, but that didn't stop each stroke from rubbing along her squished flesh, from dragging along her g-spot until her body started to writhe.

She hugged the giant, and came again.

"You are a sexual little thing aren't you?" Art said.

She couldn't dignify him with an answer, only squeak with each of Matt's thrusts. They were hard enough to make her body bounce a little between the two of them, hard enough she could hear the slap of wet flesh, soaked in her cum. Hard enough to make her body spasm with each wave of bliss and heat.

But, at last, the giant came to a stop. He pressed his cock against her depths, and gently eased himself in further, stretching her deeper and deeper as he sank himself into her pussy until he was balls deep. And then, as he buried himself to the hilt and stayed there, more warmth began to leak out of her.

"Oh... M... Matt," she said. Matt was rumbling, rumbling like a beast, and with his chest and throat not even an inch away from her face, every note filled her. So much life, heat, and the lulling glow of orgasm. She could feel it from him, even as she coated his cock in her cum. His own cum was filling her, coating her with each gentle nudge of the beast, and soon it too was dripping down her thighs. A lot of it. A lot lot of it. She would have peeked down to see if she had the room, but she could feel thick, flowing waves of cum pooling along her pussy's lips and down her thighs to join the mess on the blankets.

Part of her thought maybe she should try and make his orgasm better, maybe try some of those things Jessy talked about, squeezing and milking and stuff. A much bigger part of her couldn't get past her own pleasure as the bliss tore through her, as she gushed on his cock and hugged him tighter.

Art wasn't stopping. While she came, while Matt came, the wolf behind her continued to thrust. He still never went hard, never hurt her, but that didn't change that he was gently sinking his cock balls deep into her ass in a tender rhythm, while the two of them came. Every time the softness of the head of his cock reached that deep spot inside her, she moaned, a mewling loud sound, straight into Matt's chest.

Only when Matt had stopped cumming, and she had finally stopped cumming, did Art give her a single, slightly-hard-but-not-too-hard thrust, and started to make his own rumbling groans. His hand around her throat tightened, and he pulled her back toward his chest. She was already against it of course, being pinned between the two beasts, but Art held her throat tighter, much tighter, and Matt slid his chest back a few inches to give her room.

She squeaked, just a helpless little mouse, as the two beasts filled her. Matt was done, but still hard enough to resume his gentle thrusts. Just to make her whimper no doubt. She couldn't stop whimpering! Couldn't stop mewling, and whimpering, and squealing and squeaking and getting juices everywhere, and now that Matt had pulled back enough for to see his chest and face, she blushed horribly. He was staring at her as Art came inside her, and dragging out the whole process with his gentle thrusts that had her melting.

Art's grip around her throat made her feel so... powerless, defenseless. Vulnerable and unable to stop what they were doing to her. Not able to stop Matt from smiling at her as he gently fucked her taut pussy. Not able to stop Art from pinning her to his chest, from tenderly fucking her ass and pouring his cum into her. Not able to stop from mewling, rubbing Matt's chest of stone with her hands, and quivering as she squirted a little more on his girth. She forgot what the safeword was.

Slowly, Matt slipped his softening length out of her, and set the large thing on her thigh. Soaked, dripping with fluids, of several sources. The giant chuckled, a warm and inviting sound, and leaned down while shifting his body down as well, so his lips could find hers. Kissing. Tender, warm, delightful kissing, complete with his own quiet groans as his lips played with hers, tugging at them. And with Art still holding her throat, still milking the last few drops of his cum and pleasure into her ass, being kissed by Matt was... so... strange, and... naughty.

At last, the evil man taking her from behind stopped. And when he pulled his cock out of her, she mewled into Matt's kiss. Warmth poured from her, flowing down her ass cheeks and joining the huge mess of fluids. He let go of her neck, and she looked down at her pelvis now that Matt was giving her room.

"... you... you t-two... are... animals." Her jaw dropped as she stared at the mess, at the thick streaks of white that lined her inner thigh of the lower leg, and at the literal pool of white beneath it. She looked over her shoulder and down toward her ass, only to find the same massive mess, the same coating of white along her cheeks.

Art shifted down the same as Matt had done, and leaned over to take her lips into his. More kissing, more gentle, tender kissing. Kissing, as his hand roamed her naked body. Kissing, as Matt's hand did the same, caressing her leg, her hip and waist, her breasts.

"I think," Art said into her mouth, and winking at her when she opened her eyes, "we could use a shower."

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"Oh g-god oh my g-g-god."

She paced left and right on the living room carpet, towel wrapped around her. The shower had given her time to reflect, to think, to get the cum out of her. Very hot in the moment, not so hot in the aftermath. She frowned at them, then the carpet of the room, then them, then the room again.

"You ok, Tasha?" Matt said.

The two men returned from their showers, quick ones, but long enough to get the mess of sex off their bodies. Wearing nothing but a pair of jeans each, they sat down on the couch, and watched her pace.

She took a couple of peeks at them. Something about fit men wearing jeans and nothing but jeans was very appealing. And all the Uratha were fit as hell, built for fighting and hunting and tearing and clawing and ripping things open. Matthew and Arturo were no exception, and she had to force herself to stop staring at their bodies, their abs, their shoulders, their chests.

Like a young girl looking through a dirty magazine. The fuck was wrong with her? Blame Jessy!

"I'm... I d-don't know! This is v-v-very not normal. This is... two guys!" She pointed at them with one hand, index finger for Art, middle finger for Matt.

Art shrugged. "So?"

"So! S-So, it's... weird. We, we're... this—"

Matt put up a hand. "You didn't enjoy yourself? Felt like you did."

She wasn't blushing life anymore, thank god. She'd be a beet otherwise. "What about after sex! What about w-when we... want to watch a movie, or g-g-go out, or... or cuddle, and be romantic, and stuff."

They both shrugged. "I like you," they both said, in unison, again.

Art smirked at Matt, elbowed him in the side, and reached out to take Natasha's hand into his. "Stop worrying about that. Matt and I are best friends, and we're used to sharing everything."

Yeah, she got that. Threesome sex was always fraught with complications; she knew that from her diligent research. Men were rarely comfortable with it, and that lead to problems. Then there were problems with positioning, where to put your legs and stuff. Then there were problems with the actual penetration, and how to go together at the same time, and things touching each other.

Matt and Art apparently had no issues with any of that. They were very comfortable with double penetration, and very good at it.

She yanked her hand free and used it to hold her towel tight to her body. "That's not romantic! You d-d-don't g-get it. I've always wanted... a romance! A m-man t-t-to hold me, and... and be... kind and tender with me! You know? Hold my hand, and c-c-c-comb my hair, d-do my nails, and... kiss me." And doing all that stuff with two guys was weird. Weird!

They didn't seem to agree. Matt took her right arm, Art took her left arm, and they pulled her toward them. The towel fell, and she struggled to try and pick it back up, but they didn't let go of her hands again. Just like last time.

Naked, with her wet hair wrapped in another towel over her head. She looked ridiculous, but the two wolves didn't seem to notice or care. They looked her up and down like a meal, and pulled her in close until she was between their knees.

"We're not human, Natasha. Neither are you," Art said, grinning. "Think we give a damn about normal?" The evil, beautiful bastard put a kiss on her nose, then her lips, before kissing her fingers in his hand.

"Art can comb your hair, and I can do your nails." Matt, grinning the same evil grin as Art, also put a kiss on her lips.

"But... b-b-b-b-but what if... another girl... you know."

"No other girls." Art let go of her hand. Matt too, only for Art to grab her by the waist and pick her up.

"H-Hey!"

Like a child, Art laid her across his lap so her head rested on his arm, her butt fell between the two wolves, and her legs fell across Matt's. She tried to get up, but of course her rebellious efforts were quickly squelched, Art using his other arm to pin her back down, and Matt pinning her legs down on his with ease.

"It's an exclusive relationship," Matt said. "Sorry if it's odd for you. But we really like you, and we're not letting you go." His hands took one of her heels, and he raised her foot before putting a kiss along her ankle.

Exclusive relationship. No one else, just her, and her two werewolves. She stared up at Art, and then at Matt, as the two huge beasts chuckled and smiled. It was going to be a very, very weird relationship.

God, they were going to spoil her rotten.

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~~Antoinette~~

Her. Alone. Floor twenty-seven of her Elysium tower. Around her, her circular desk, and upon it a dozen screens, each portraying information. There were news reports about the tunnels, what little information she let escape into the news. There were Invictus reports that she had acquired through her many fingers, and Carthian reports as well, though those were often word of mouth from her spies. She had blueprints of her city up, and many highlighted points where the Uratha and the Begotten had been sighted, where deaths occurred, and the degree of which each was a threat to her city's veil.

Many of the monitors showed live feeds; her kine servants wore glasses with cameras in the frames, and others wore breast-pocket cameras, subtle, hidden. With her in her seat, she turned to face one monitor for a while, and digested the information it provided. Eyes on the Carthians, upon a group of them sitting around a corner near a territory the Invictus were building. Another monitor showed live feed of the Invictus, and their attempts to set up monitoring of their own on the Carthians.

None showed the contents of the abandoned tunnel section. None showed the areas where Fiona had been finding her prey, where the Azlu took advantage.

She frowned, then sighed until the frown faded. Leaning back in her chair, she brought up her hands to her lips, fingers netted together, elbows to the arms of the chair. Had she been foolish to trust the Uratha at their word? Perhaps, but not because the Uratha were lying; they had not. Rather, it was foolish to trust others that events will progress as they predict. Thus, it would have been prudent to begin monitoring the tunnels beneath Devil's Corner after Avery's message to Jack. But she had not; it would have been terribly difficult to monitor the tunnel depths without the Uratha knowing.

But maybe she should have. Doubts crashed against her, water upon the rocks of her mind. And they broke with time, as they always did. No, she had made the correct choice, when her two choices were poor. She had to entertain the Uratha their hunt, and be oblivious to it without the means to survey their work in those tunnels.

And that infuriated her. For so long she managed the silly games of her fellow Primogen, their spies, their espionage, their cold war. Dealing with their webs of deceit, and defeating them at their own game, was her world for so long. Such blatant violence from the werewolves, claw and muscle and savagery, so direct and aggressive that it made her methods inadequate. She would have to do better, adapt, break the wolves if necessary. If she could not, she would have to banish them. If they would not leave, she would have to kill them.

She reached across the desk and picked up her sword. Not since after Simon's departure had she created the blade, a short thing of maybe sixteen inches, with the simplest of handles: black, with a spiraled grip. The sword blade was silver, mixed with other metals to keep its hardness intact. More than strong enough to cut through muscle, sinew, and bone.

She put the blade down, and turned to look at Daniel

"I do wish I could meet Simon another time. I would plunge this blade through his idiot skull and be done with it."

"... understandable," the man said, pressing his glasses to the bridge of his nose with an index finger. "But, Avery seems more reasonable."

"Yes, she does. A pleasant, if unwanted surprise. I do wonder what happened to Simon; I should ask her. But I fear upsetting her..." Saying the word fear earned a scowl from her, and she slammed both her hands onto the flat side of the blade before her. "I should not fear her."

"Fearing a werewolf is understandable."

"I do not fear her strength." For all Avery's power, Antoinette felt confident she could best her. Indeed, she was more than capable of taking on that Goliath of raw, animal strength. It would not be the first time she had fought a werewolf; memories long faded, blurry, and filled with blood and pain. And this time, she was properly armed.

"But you fear the damage she can do to your city."

"... yes."

Daniel nodded, and started to pace in spot, slowly, eyes staring ahead like a statue, gloved finger to his lip. "Based on what you told me, this isn't the same situation."

She sighed, sat back in her chair, and pulled her hair over her shoulder to begin combing it with her fingers. "But Avery is still Avery. Eventually, Jacob will get involved."