The moment Keene was pushed into the room, he felt immediately nauseas. It was dimly lit by candles in the corner, the bed the center of focus with its smooth sheets and rust red cover, giving it all the impression of a finely kept place of rest. Of course, "rest" was something the bed had hardly experienced. A man lay upon it, his dark green eyes searching with a probing interest as Keene was pushed forward, the feeling of the woman's hands behind him sending shivers down his back. He did not like to be touched. He did not like to be in a room with strangers. Most of all, he did not like the smell of the room. It was almost sour, a heady scent of something floral mixed with sweat. It felt dirty, and Keene's hands were clenched tight into fists as he stumbled over the wooden floor, his uneasy steps resounding unusually loud. The man grinned, propping his head up in on hand as he played with the loose collar of his shirt. "This is the one?" His question was directed at the woman behind Keene, and he turned to stare at her, eyes sombre and wary.
She stood about a head taller than he, a heavy bust and wide set hips. Her eyes were hard and steely as they looked down at him. Her dark red, thin lips curled in a jeering sneer. "He is." She gently ran a finger down Keene's face, the sudden contact causing him to flinch away and bump into the bed. "Skittish, isn't he?"
The man let out a deep chuckle, reaching forward to wrap his arms around the now shaking figure before him, pulling him closer so that he could run his lips against Keene's ear. His whisper was low and rolling, carrying with it a grin that felt similar to the one the woman wore as she gazed down at the two of them. "Maybe, but he'll behave, won't he?" He took a little nibble at Keene's ear. The sensation of teeth against his skin filled him with a quivering panic, but he forced himself to remain still. He had promised Mella he would do so. Despite everything that was happening to him, he had no intention of going back on his word, despite the rush of blood that pulsed through his entire body as his heart nearly beat out of his chest. Breath came quick and left quicker, leaving him light headed in his struggle to suppress the urge to shout out and cry. The man moved from his ear to his neck, his tongue leaving a trail of wet that quickly turned cold when exposed to the air. The man let out a small groan, pressing his face into Keene's neck beneath his chin. Pulling his had back, the man addressed the woman once more. "Just taste him."
For a moment, Keene imagined the pair rending his flesh from his bones, consuming him until there was nothing left. Mella had told him that it was to be an exercise in self-control. She had said once it was over he would understand things about himself in a way he could not even have imagined. She had also said that if he even so much as tried to protest, she would toss him into the street like trash. He was scared; scared of Mella leaving him behind, of the two people who had begun to press their bodies against him, their tongues moving over his skin like fire, burning him with every pass. Still, he remained silent, shutting his eyes to hide from what was happening before him - to him. He felt the woman's breath against the other side of his face, her hands running through his hair as she too began to whisper, her voice light and airy. "Good boy." She moved from his ear to mouth, pressing against his lips. Keene instinctively tried to move back, but the man's chest behind him stayed any retreat. Instead, his lips were forced open, an exploration underway. He shook then, unable to control his body as he curled his toes and clenched his fists. It seemed to last forever, the woman pressed against him, the softness of her chest pressing against his own as the man behind him ran his hands over Keene's chest and waste.
It felt as if he were suffocating, air refused to him as the woman blocked its path, filling his mouth with hers. He could feel himself beginning to fade, small areas of black dotting his vision. Just as he thought he could take no more, the woman released him, the snapping of the suction followed by her own playful gasp left Keene limp in the man's arms that had risen to keep him on his feet, tucked under his own arms to hold him aloft. "Gods, Mirian. Kiss him, don't kill him." The man's voice was wholly amused as he rustled on the bed. As Keene found his footing again, the hands traveled downward, slipping into Keene's trousers. At some point, his belt had been removed, but Keene had been far too preoccupied with suffocation to notice. As he felt the hands close around him, his back stiffened, and he clenched his jaw to force himself from shouting out. "Hm? Not even a little bit?" The man's voice seemed a bit disappointed.
"Maybe you're just not his type, Jakob." Mirain gave a little trill of laughter as she grinned down at the two men before her. "Let me." She approached, her body moving in one fluid motion as stooped before him. He felt the hands release him, moving to fiddle with the buttons that kept his pants attached to him. He wanted to struggle, to fight back, but Mella's ultimatum kept him in place. Instead, he forced his eyes shut once more, attempting to hide away from what was happening by refusing himself sight. The sensations, however, remained. As the woman addressed him, Keene began to squirm. The man's arms held him tight, his face pressed into the crook of Keene's neck as the woman continued. He felt strange, terrified even. He could feel teeth and wetness. His jaw was clenched so hard he felt like his own teeth might shatter beneath the force. It seemed to continue for days, the man's hands rising up beneath Keene's shirt to press again the more sensitive areas of his chest. The rhythmic sway of the woman against him sending shudders through his entire frame. When she finally did pull away, Keene let out a shaking gasp. Her voice lacked much of the airy, breathy quality of before. "Well petch."
Jakob laughed, releasing Keene for the time being as he sat up on the bed. Keene stumbled forward, sinking to his knees that gave out once his support had been taken away. "The kid's too nervous." There was a rustle of fabric as the man removed his shirt, follow by the clink of his belt hitting the floor. The woman moved towards him again, kneeling down to offer him a hand up. Keene took it, his quivering grip quickly engulfed by the strength Mirian wore so confidently. "Come here." The command was cooed by the man on the bed, his body now displayed, like the center piece of some strange feast. Keene approached, obedient despite the overwhelming desire to bolt for the door. He knew full well escape would only seal his fate. To be cast aside by the one person in his life was as good as death, and the trial before him was only temporary. He repeated it to himself over and over again as he laboriously made his way to the the bed. Only temporary, only temporary. Jakob grinned, "Take it off." The woman moved in another fluid movement, removing Keene's shirt first, then sliding his pants and undergarments off of his legs as he moved. Had he not been so surprised, he might have been impressed at how quickly as easily she had completed the task. "Good, now..." The man curled a finger towards Keene, beckoning him closer.
In no position to refuse, Keene tentatively crawled onto the bed. His heartbeat was almost audible outside of his body as his blood pulsed in throbbing beats against the confines of his now naked skin. He stopped at the edge of the bed, supporting himself on his knees and hands as he stared at the man uncomprehendingly. He simply grinned, pointing towards where he wanted Keene to focus his attention. It wasn't difficult to understand what the man wanted at that point. Keene cautiously moved across the bed, the tanned, muscular body before him inching ever closer. Before him, Keene watched the man quiver, the isolation of the event turning his stomach even before he began. Again, eyes were shut, but this time there was little he could ignore. The man began to moan, and Keene felt the woman behind him. He flinched, his jaw instinctively moving to shut. The man let out a yelp, shoving his hands into Keene's hair and wrenching back on it. "No biting!" Keene's eyes had begun to water, but he nodded his understanding before he was shoved back. The woman's invasion of his privacy continued from behind, and Keene felt his own body change in response.
"Just had to warm him up, hm?" Mirian's laughter was quite clear in her voice, to which the man just responded with a grunt. He had begun to move on his own accord. Keene spluttered and choked, water dripping steadily from his eyes until the man put a hand on his shoulder, gently tracing the lines of what few muscles Keene had.
"That's good." Jakob's voice was breathless and terse, but Keene hardly needed to be told twice. He was released from his duty, and the desire to spit out the taste in his mouth was halted only by the sudden pull on his arms that dragged him face to face with the other man who pressed through his lips with a searching urgency. He felt the bed shift as the woman joined them, but by that time he had once more shut his eyes. The sensations that spread over his body were so conflicting, he had no idea how to separate them, nor what to make of them. He was terrified, but his terror was held in check by the fierce desire to remain with Mella. Even as he felt the woman's chest press into his back and a sharp pain from behind, he remained resolute, despite his uncontrollable shaking. His breathing wasn't nearly as obstructed as before. The man seemed to prefer his skin over his tongue, but time was spent on both. The pain behind from behind remained steady as the woman pressed herself against him, her free hand wrapped around his front.
They continued in a similar fashion for a time, and Keene had learned that the pain was lessoned the more relaxed he became. Of course, relaxation under the circumstances was hardly feasible, but he tried. Any small bit of comfort he could find in the nightmarish whirl he clung to. The pain increased several times, each subsequent time he couldn't help but let out a cry that was quickly muffled by Jakob's searching. He felt the man against him, their bodies pressed close. The heart beats of both the woman and the man berating him from both sides, smashing against his own frantic rate. He just wanted to go home. He wanted to sit in the sunny corner of his house with a book, reading about the anatomy of a bear or the intrinsic properties of the naturally occurring metals found in the mountains that surrounded Zeltiva. He wanted to practice his Nader Canoch. He wanted to write his required daily set of prose and poetry. He even wanted to spend the three or four bells worth of time copying out lines of Nader Canoch then translating it into Common and back into a different translation of Nader Canoch. What was happening to him in that moment, Keene tried to distance himself, to hide away from it by escaping into the confines of his mind.
He no longer heard what was said, but soon he wished he had. The pain had been entirely unexpected. He writhed, trying to get away from it, but the woman held him in place as the man cooed beneath him. He pressed into him, over and over again, until Keene eventually lost the will to resist. He pressed his head into the man's shoulder, his tears sticking to his face like a film. The man became frantic, and the woman started to laugh as Keene flinched before the rush of heat. His body shook uncontrollably as his teeth were clenched so hard he swore he felt them creak. Jakob pulled him into another forceful kiss, rolling Keene over onto his back as he retreated. Shame did not play a large part in Keene's mind, but the pain and fear had long since claimed him as their own as the man shuffled forward, making a joke about "cleaning". Keene mechanically obliged. The taste made him sick, and when the man rolled to the side with a contended gasp, Keene turned his head away from him to spit onto the sheets. In spite of everything, he had done it. He was finished - or so he thought.
Next, came the woman. She slid over him like a snake, pressing herself over him. He tensed immediately, his senses dulled but still aware of her presence. He felt the man again, and he wanted to scream, to shout at the top of his lungs, to shove the away from him and escape into the street. Mella's words repeated in his head over and over again. He clenched his fist as his body convulsed, and the woman's laughter met with with the man's groans as he joined him once again. He felt his body numb, even the pain slightly subsided as the woman slid off of him, saying something he couldn't catch in his new state of stasis before he heard the door open and shut. The man wasn't finished with him, and Keene resigned himself to the numbness while he continued. He stared up at the ceiling, his rocking vision slightly blurred by the watery burn in his eyes. The wooden planks shifted as he did, back and fourth, like the waves of the ocean.
When Jakob finally crawled over him, wrapping his body around Keene's like a living, breathing blanket, Keene could feel the mingling of their sweat, slipping against each other as Jakob lazily ran a finger about Keene's stomach. He pressed his grinning face against Keene's neck, nibbling on him in between his panting. "Very good." He ran his tongue over Keene's jaw, the heat of the muscle sending a scream through his unresponsive body. "Very good." He wanted to leave. He wanted to escape. Yet his body was sluggish and though he felt as if his mind darted to and fro at a speed unknown to the physical world, he was still trapped beneath the purring hum of the man beside him.
The door opened, and the woman returned, her laughing voice bouncing around the room in a way that Keene could not fathom from the depths to which his mind had retreated. "They said we have three more bells!"
