The door slams open and you're wide awake, scrambling for the belt knife you'd concealed under a pillow even as you'd been thrusting into Malia.
Malia screams. You put your body in front of hers, holding her behind you with one arm as you hold the knife in the other, blade arcing back against your forearm as you prepare to ward off an attack.
The man from earlier is standing in the doorway, breeches pulled up and tied off at his waist. He's fuming. He points a finger at you, but then, seeing that you have a knife and he doesn't, he shrinks back to the threshold. He extends the finger again, this time hesitating to put it any closer to your knife than need be, regardless of the several paces of open floor between the two of you.
"Your—your time's up!" the man stutters. "I—I don't know who you are. I just—it's my turn! I was here first—you had your turn, and now...now...I want mine, blast it!"
You lower your knife arm. The man is trembling. You take a closer look at his face. He's not a beautiful man, as you saw before, but...he isn't bad looking. Just young. A hump-happy young man who must have learned not too long ago how to fuck something.
You chuckle.
"I—I'm not joking," the man sputters.
"Come on in," you tell him, trying not to burst into full-fledged laughter at the look on his face. "Come on, I won't hurt you." You put the knife back in its sheath and toss it onto a chair across the room.
The man frowns, stares over at the knife. He looks like he's thinking hard. He takes that first step after more than enough time. He shuts the door, hesitating before releasing the latch and turning to face you.
"You...I heard what you did to her. I could hear it down the hall..."
"Did to me?" Malia laughs, coming out from behind you, wrapping herself around your arm, leaning against you.
You look down at her. She smiles up at you. You don't remember falling asleep, but you feel better rested than you have in many years. She kisses a crisscrossing of scars on your shoulder.
"You did something, that's for sure," Malia whispers. You can hear the smile in her words.
"I know what you said earlier...," the man speaks up after a bit of silence. "What you said you'd do to me."
"I know what I said, too," you respond, looking up at him after a moment staring down at Malia's red hair as it glows warm in the candlelight. She smells like warmth, honey, wild mountain flowers. And a little like you, now.
"Does it...does it hurt?" His eyes are wide as he asks. You can hear him swallow.
"Only if you struggle against it."
"Oh..."
"Mmmmm...," Malia hums. "I think he's curious."
"I...!" he begins to protest. "I... Maybe I am. A little bit."
"That's okay," you tell him, looking him up and down. You know he's watching your every movement, every rise and fall of your chest, the flickering of your eyes over his entire body. He's on high alert, perhaps half-expecting you to swoop down on top of him and pound him where he lands.
"I've...heard...things," he says, quiet. "I've heard men talk...about how it felt that one time they tried it...How...it's different...but really...feels good."
You chuckle gently. "It does."
He looks up at you. "You've done it?"
You nod. Malia watches you, as well, her fingers trailing slowly up and down your arm, raising goosebumps where she touches your skin.
"Which part?" he asks, watching his bare toes scrape around on the wood floor.
"Both."
Malia hums again, brushing a roaming kiss lower on your shoulder. "An adventurer," she whispers for your ears alone.
"Does it hurt?" he asks again.
"Only if you fight it," you repeat. "And only if we don't take it slow the first time."
The man nods, slowly coming closer.
"But I also want my turn in her," he says, not really sounding all that convinced anymore.
Malia laughs. "I think we can work something out between the three of us. It's not my first time with two men at once."
You wrap an arm around her and she snuggles against you as you squeeze her tight. You then let her go and crawl off the bed. The man watches you, his eyes going wide as your bare dick bounces flaccid against your thigh.
"It's...huge."
"I'll go nice and slow," you assure him, "you have my word."
He swallows audibly again. And nods.
You walk slowly across the small space toward him and come to a stop before him.
"Take your shirt off," you instruct.
He fumbles to do as he's told, his expression one of surprise, as though he didn't think he'd really do it. His fingers scramble, one of his nails scraping his skin. He looks down and hisses.
You reach out and run your thumb gently over the spot as it turns red from the scratch. He sucks in a breath and looks up at you as you caress him. His body is softer than some of the soldiers you've made love to, but still solid enough to tell you he's worked hard in his life. Up close, he's even softer on the eyes. You jerk your head back toward the bed.
"What do I do?" he asks, stumbling toward the mattress, looking back at you even as he comes to a stop with his thighs against it.
"Relax. Breathe. When's the last time you took a shit."
He looks down awkwardly. His face reddens, and the glow of heat flows down his neck onto his chest.
"After you chased me out of here," he answers quietly, eyes boring into the floor. "I was so furious...it just kinda happened."
"Perfect," you chuckle.
You're right behind him, towering over him. You put a hand on his shoulder, another on his side. His breathing quickens and he stiffens. You lean down to whisper in his ear.
"We don't have to if you don't want to."
He swallows yet again. "I want to. Like the stories. I want to at least try."
"Like the stories," you whisper, pressing your lips to his neck. "Breathe. Relax. You'll be okay."
You can feel him melting under your light kisses. You stroke his shoulder, wrap your arm around and down to stroke his dick. It lurches under your touch and he breathes hard.
"You can stop at any time," you whisper. "Just say the word."
He nods, leaning against you as you stroke him, squeeze him. His skin grows warmer and warmer against you. You finally undo the ties of his breeches and slide the garment down over his hips. His ass is firm, if a bit hairy. You put a hand on his cock as it hangs free and he steps from the breeches.
Malia climbs off the bed and tosses the breeches aside. She reaches between the two of you and grasps your own dick firmly in her hand, giving it a delicious tug. You feel that same heat trickle down through your abdomen, down through the shaft, down into the very tip of your cock. She pulls it, rubbing her fingers over its length as it expands in her grasp. You do the same thing to the man's cock, feeling it grow, thicken, arch upward in your grip. It's still small compared to yours, but that's never been a fair comparison to begin with. Your own dick grows, lengthening, swelling, rearing up in Malia's grasp. She's using two hands just to grip it now, to stroke up and down it's throbbing length. The tip thickens to a throbbing bulb ready to spread him wide.
You put a hand on the man's back and whisper, "Bend over...spread your legs...and breathe deep."
