Sigurd felt his breath hitch as the elf before him popped the jar open, dipping his fingers into the substance.
“Wh...what are you going to do with that...?” he asked, more curious than fearful at this time. Before Niruin could answer, Thrynn rammed forward again, and he lost his focus in a lusty moan, his hands giving way and his elbows hitting the wood floor instead as firm hands gripped his length and rubbed hard against the tip, earning a cry in response and finally prompting Thrynn himself to release as well, his hands clamping down hard on the boy's back as he rode out every ounce of his need. At last, he pulled out again, laughing hoarsely and clapping a palm against Sigurd's back.
“Ah, I needed that. It's been too long since I've had someone so nice and tight...” he groaned, looking up at the increasingly impatient bystanders. Cynric had long since followed Delvin's lead, panting roughly as he fondled himself to the sight, but it was Rune who dropped to his knees behind Sigurd now, freeing his own hardened length and bending over him to whisper in his ear.
“I hope you aren't worn out just yet,” he sighed, accompanying the words with a firm yet restrained push forward. Sigurd could only moan again at this new invasion, not quite as harsh as Thrynn had been but so thick, and hardly noticed Niruin leaning up to slide honey-dipped fingers down the length of his back.
“Here, Rune,” he purred, turning to himself and adorning himself with the substance as well. “Enjoy him all the more, will you? I'll be right there...” Rune obliged more than willingly, his tongue tracing circles down Sigurd's spine as he rolled his hips forward against him, and the shopkeeper's assistant dared to look around even in his haze. Thrynn and Vipir, spent and sated, were seated on either side of Etienne, who was watching hungrily as his fellow guild-mate licked at and thrust into their hireling. Delvin had suddenly thrown his head back with a choked cry, apparently undone by the mere sight of it, and Cynric's breathing was coming out more as moans, hinting that he wasn't far behind. But his focus rested on Brynjolf himself, who was leaning against the wall, watching the scene unfold. His pants did nothing to hide his arousal, even as he stood silent and vaguely amused, but Sigurd couldn't help but note the look in those bright eyes.
He felt as though he was being watched by a saber cat.
Before he could muse over it more, though, Niruin was back, and he was shocked to find the elf's hardened length bare and dripping with honey. He knew what the thief wanted, and nodded up obediently, licking and sucking greedily at the cock and listening to Niruin and Rune groan almost in unison. The man behind him was becoming more and more desperate, his own member throbbing deep inside his lover, and moaned against Sigurd's back, murmuring increasingly dirty things to him and stroking almost gently at his mostly-ignored arousal. Niruin's thin fingers were stroking at his scalp all the while, matching his encouraging mutters of more and yes, yes and right there as Sigurd sucked him deeper. Behind him, Etienne stood abruptly, striding across the room and leaning up to whisper something to Brynjolf. The redhead chuckled, nodding, and murmured something back before pulling the smaller blonde to his side, his attention turning back to the scene on the floor just as Rune threw his head back and swore loudly, filling Sigurd with more seed and grabbing hard enough at the man's length to evoke a pained gasp. The thief had hardly pulled back when Brynjolf stepped forward, an arm tight around an almost-shaking Etienne and his eyes never wavering from Sigurd as he spoke.
“Hurry up, will you, Niruin?” he asked sweetly, pushing the blonde to his knees. “This one and I have been so patient, but...I think it's about time we had our turn. We did save the best for last.”
Sigurd + Thieves' Guild Males: "Investing" 3/4
“Wh...what are you going to do with that...?” he asked, more curious than fearful at this time. Before Niruin could answer, Thrynn rammed forward again, and he lost his focus in a lusty moan, his hands giving way and his elbows hitting the wood floor instead as firm hands gripped his length and rubbed hard against the tip, earning a cry in response and finally prompting Thrynn himself to release as well, his hands clamping down hard on the boy's back as he rode out every ounce of his need. At last, he pulled out again, laughing hoarsely and clapping a palm against Sigurd's back.
“Ah, I needed that. It's been too long since I've had someone so nice and tight...” he groaned, looking up at the increasingly impatient bystanders. Cynric had long since followed Delvin's lead, panting roughly as he fondled himself to the sight, but it was Rune who dropped to his knees behind Sigurd now, freeing his own hardened length and bending over him to whisper in his ear.
“I hope you aren't worn out just yet,” he sighed, accompanying the words with a firm yet restrained push forward. Sigurd could only moan again at this new invasion, not quite as harsh as Thrynn had been but so thick, and hardly noticed Niruin leaning up to slide honey-dipped fingers down the length of his back.
“Here, Rune,” he purred, turning to himself and adorning himself with the substance as well. “Enjoy him all the more, will you? I'll be right there...” Rune obliged more than willingly, his tongue tracing circles down Sigurd's spine as he rolled his hips forward against him, and the shopkeeper's assistant dared to look around even in his haze. Thrynn and Vipir, spent and sated, were seated on either side of Etienne, who was watching hungrily as his fellow guild-mate licked at and thrust into their hireling. Delvin had suddenly thrown his head back with a choked cry, apparently undone by the mere sight of it, and Cynric's breathing was coming out more as moans, hinting that he wasn't far behind. But his focus rested on Brynjolf himself, who was leaning against the wall, watching the scene unfold. His pants did nothing to hide his arousal, even as he stood silent and vaguely amused, but Sigurd couldn't help but note the look in those bright eyes.
He felt as though he was being watched by a saber cat.
Before he could muse over it more, though, Niruin was back, and he was shocked to find the elf's hardened length bare and dripping with honey. He knew what the thief wanted, and nodded up obediently, licking and sucking greedily at the cock and listening to Niruin and Rune groan almost in unison. The man behind him was becoming more and more desperate, his own member throbbing deep inside his lover, and moaned against Sigurd's back, murmuring increasingly dirty things to him and stroking almost gently at his mostly-ignored arousal. Niruin's thin fingers were stroking at his scalp all the while, matching his encouraging mutters of more and yes, yes and right there as Sigurd sucked him deeper. Behind him, Etienne stood abruptly, striding across the room and leaning up to whisper something to Brynjolf. The redhead chuckled, nodding, and murmured something back before pulling the smaller blonde to his side, his attention turning back to the scene on the floor just as Rune threw his head back and swore loudly, filling Sigurd with more seed and grabbing hard enough at the man's length to evoke a pained gasp. The thief had hardly pulled back when Brynjolf stepped forward, an arm tight around an almost-shaking Etienne and his eyes never wavering from Sigurd as he spoke.
“Hurry up, will you, Niruin?” he asked sweetly, pushing the blonde to his knees. “This one and I have been so patient, but...I think it's about time we had our turn. We did save the best for last.”