A Man of Wealth and Taste

Midir watched, seeming half-fascinated at seeing his lady thus, noting the way her teeth sank back into Sam hard enough to draw blood, half-muffling her moan, but not the way her body arched, reacted, the heated pleasure sliding off of her. His tongue slid up Sam's length, slicking him, tasting him.

[ooc: fucker]

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He fucked her slowly with that finger, pressing in deep, sliding out, wriggling a little, slowly, just for the sensation. Then two fingers, making sure she felt each inch as he slid in, out.

He moaned into her hair as Midir's tongue slid over him, hips shuddering but not thrusting, not yet. Dripping, just a little, but not moving.

[ooc: YES.]

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Keelia whimpered, pressing back onto his fingers, then rocking her hips forward to press into his leg, feel the friction there as well. Midir slid his hand higher on her, teasing over her clit enough to make her cry out before sliding one finger into her, feeling Sam's through just a bit of membrane and moving in a soft counter-rhythm to him.

Keelia bucked a bit, pleasure making lights flash behind her eyes as she held one. Midir chuckled, a warm sound around the cock in his mouth, and increased the suction.

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Sam moaned softly, hips thrusting slightly now into Midir's mouth, aching, wanting, but focusing on his fingers moving in Keelia for the moment. Rolling off her pleasure, other hand moving up to cup her breast, thumb brushing over one nipple.

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She clung to him, riding the wave that washed over her and wanting more. Midir was aching, and paused to slide out of his clothes, his fingers replacing his mouth to keep contact with Sam.

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He played her, behind, in front, squeezing and kneading just enough to provoke nerves. He moaned, made a little sound of protest at Midir's withdrawl, but not too much. Still felt the heat of his hand. Still moving slightly, enjoying the touch.

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Keelia's fingers tangled in his hair, smiling against his lips and moaning at the feel of him. Midir watched for a few moments, still stroking over Sam, teasing over her, a wicked grin on his lips.

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He pulled his hair back a little, just to pull against her hand, to feel it tug and sting. Rocked a little harder into Midir's hand, wanting... something. Wanting more.

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Midir grinned a bit, leaning down to slide his tongue up Sam's shaft once more.

"Do you want to fuck her?"

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Whatever answer he might have given was lost in the initial gasp. His fingers pushed in to her again, a little harder, not too much.

"Yess..." Half a hiss of pleasure, there.

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Keelia whimpered, trembling a little around his fingers, her own clutching at him, nails digging in.

Midir grinned, reaching to stroke over her as well as he shifted them both a bit, nibbling at her neck.

"How do you want her?"

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He leaned back a little, enough to give her a critical, very sexual once-over.

"I'll have your ass in a moment," he glanced at Midir with what was definitely a predatory smirk. "I'll have her."

His thumb curled around, brushing over slickness. "Here...

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Keelia gasped, hips jerking in reaction to the renewed touch there. Midir reached to tug her to him with a kiss, fingers sliding to cup her breasts, not coincidentally shifting her a bit for Sam.

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He smirked a little against her skin, only now sliding his fingers out and his hands to her hips, easing his way into position but not pushing in, not yet. Just teasing with her slickness, his, one hand reaching out to brush over Midir's hip.

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Midir slid to the side, still kissing her, running his fingers over both of them as she wriggled against Sam almost lazily, hips rocking over his with a soft laugh.

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He took his time about it, back and forth and back and forth, every time a little deeper and chuckling half-wickedly, half just out of enjoyment. His fingers slid over her side, Midir's hip, light little touches.

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Keelia whimpered, pressing back a bit and ready to growl at him to fuck her already, except Midir was keeping her mouth busy with his, his fingers sliding over her breasts, then back to stroke down Sam's hips.

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He teased at her, till he was about ready to growl himself, skin shivering under Midir's touch until he thrust into her without warning, barely gentle, certainly forceful. And again, and a low groan as he started, taking her, no other word for it.

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She bit down hard enough on Midir's lip to draw blood, crying out as she thrust to meet him, shaking more than a little with the force of it.

Midir moaned at the bite, lips sliding down hers, then eyeing her a bit, as she shifted to press him back, lips caressing down his chest.

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He watched her, the movements of her mouth, the way her breasts moved as she shifted. Even that, the sight, the sound of her cries, Midir's moans drove him to a punishing rhythm as he arched his back and stretched with the lightning crackle of pleasure down his spine.

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Midir fell back with a half moan, watching her, as she met Sam, sobbing just a bit at the rhythm, fingers tight in the blankets and on Midir's skin. She finally reached her goal, lips closing around his shaft as she sucked slowly up his length, making him arch and cry out.

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God, yes, he could hear them, see her mouth moving over his cock and it was so fucking hot. His rhythm faltered for a second, picked back up, inasmuch as he had a rhythm instead of a driving need that he drove into her, wet and hot and demanding.

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Midir's fingers buried in her hair as she moved, taking him in, teasing over his shaft with her tongue. He held her there, hips starting a rhythm in counterpoint to Sam's as he met the other man's eyes.

She moaned at the sensation of being filled, both of them wanting so, tasting and feeling and moving first one way, then the other, finding and losing and dividing self until she was trembling on the edge and didn't care how far she fell.

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Sam's eyes were so dark, want and lust and need and hunger most of which went beyond sex.

One hand slipped over her hip, down to flick over her clit, just once, and again, keeping his hand there with the promise that he could do it again as he wished, as he thrust into her more lazily now, matching Midir and eyes on him. As though every thrust into her was a promise to match it in him.

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