Monsters A Little Help

You are sprawled across the battered table, back arched and fingers curled so tightly around the edge that your nails bite into the old wood. It creaks beneath you. Its old legs groan in time with every shaky breath you take. Above, a single bulb casts flickering amber light over your sweat-slick skin, haloing your body in its warmth. Your eyes are locked on it, not because it's so interesting, but because it is the only thing keeping you grounded while the pub around you turns into a blur of laughter, clinking glasses, and low moans. The air is soaked in the scent of alcohol, musk, and sex. The heady cocktail clings to your tongue when you breathe too deeply. Your chest rises and falls in uneven waves, and your thighs quiver around Arson's hips, spread wide and held open by sheer force of his bulk.

You can feel the pulse in your throat as a high, complaining whine finds its way out between your lips.

"Shhh," Arson murmurs in a deep, delicious rumble that vibrates through your spine. "I'm almost in."

You choke out a shocked moan that's halfway a laugh, halfway a sob. "Almost? You're not even- Fuck! You're not even in yet?"

You shift instinctively, but it does nothing good. The blunt tip of his cock nudges, teases, coaxes, but he is just too big. You shouldn't be surprised, though. He is a big guy. His massive frame fills the room, his dark green scales glint under the warm light, and his horns arch up proudly, almost grazing the ceiling when he is not careful enough.

"You're so fucking tight, little thing. Gonna have to work you open."

His hands grip your thighs tighter as he rolls his hips forward in a slow, grinding push, but the moment you start to stretch around him, you cry out and try to crawl away from him.

It's too much.

"Wait, wait-" you gasp, breath catching sharply in your throat. "Just-"

"Do you need help?" A new voice slices through the air, velvet-smooth and melodic, and before you can even turn your head, there is a warm hand sliding along your calf in gentle strokes meant to soothe your raw nerves. "I could hear her cries from the other side of the room."

You blink at the demon standing not as tall as Arson, but somehow just as overpowering. His dark red skin gleams beneath the white button-up that strains across his broad shoulders and the roundness of his gut. Beneath, black ink snakes up on one of his arms, from the back of his hand up to his neck, barely peaking out of the crips collar.

Arson's head turns to look at him, and the dragon chuckles low in his chest. "Do you think I can't take care of her?"

The two of them lock eyes, silent for a long second, and something passes between them so thick you feel like you are intruding.

"Guys," you groan, breathless and sarcastic. "I can leave, if you want."

Your joke barely lands before Arson's scaled palm flattens on your lower belly, keeping you pinned while the other male's fingers curl tighter around your leg.

"Stay where you are, darling," the demon says, voice dipping into something that makes your toes curl against the tabletop. "I can take care of both of you."

Their gazes pin you just as surely as their grip, and when the demon lifts his hand from your leg and brings it to his mouth, you follow every motion like you are hypnotized. His tongue flicks out, wetting his fingers before he slips them between your legs right alongside Arson's erection. The dragon's cock is still thick and hard with need. It glides through your folds, smearing your wetness and his pre-cum along your swollen pussy. The blunt head catches against your entrance, and when the demon's fingers slide in beside him, curling deep where you are soft and wanting, you cry out and buck your hips.

The dragon's massive hand spreads over your belly, forcing you to be still when he pushes inside you again, but he is barely inside, and you are already whining. "Still so desperate," he says, feeling the work of your muscles as you try to rub on him. Your instincts tell you two different things, leaving your mind dizzy and spinning.

The demon chuckles, fingers curling as he strokes along your soaked entrance. "She loves the stretch," he hums, pressing deeper when Arson gives up and gives him enough space to do it. "Even if it breaks her a little."

A glance passes between them, full of something feral and toecurling, and then, Arson's hand lands heavy on the other male's shoulder, making him move with a slow grace. He adjusts your leg higher, spreading you even more to give himself enough room. His breath ghosts over your drenched slit, and you have to brace up on your elbows with an aching need to see him.

You watch his tongue dragging hot and slow up your slit, flicking your clit with sinful precision. "F-fuck," you pant, head falling back before snapping forward again when the sensation shifts.

For a moment, you feel nothing, but you can see the demon's head tilting just enough to take the dragon's cock into his mouth.

Arson growls above you, rich and guttural. "Greedy fucker."

The male chuckles, letting the rumble of his voice run across the other before backing away just enough to speak. "Name is Nomad," he murmurs against the underside of Arson's cock, then without waiting for an answer, he dives back in.

It's a mesmerizing rhythm. His mouth is relentless, switching from Arson's cock to your cunt with a hunger that feels both calculated and feral. His fingers pry you open, tonguing your clit with firm strokes before pulling back and twisting slightly to take Arson into his mouth again. His lips stretch wide to accommodate the dragon's girth, cheeks hollowing as he sucks while you watch, breath caught in your throat, as Nomad works Arson's cock deeper.

"Oh my gods," you gasp, watching the obscene slick of Arson's cock as Nomad devours it only to find his way back to your swollen clit a moment later.

The back and forth is maddening.

The demon jerks off Arson, his fist sliding up the dragon's shaft, wrist twisting, working in perfect rhythm with the way his mouth sucks on your clit.

Your body coils tight like a bowstring, ready to snap at any second now. "Fuck- fuck- I'm gonna-" you choke out, hips rocking helplessly, grinding into his face.

"Cum for us, little thing," Arson murmurs, watching you with fire burning in his eyes. "Let him taste it."

Your breath catches and holds, body wound so tight it feels like you might really fall apart-

then it hits.

Your hands claw at the table, nails scoring fresh lines in the old wood as your thighs clamp down hard around Nomad's head while he moans around your clit, lips locked tight. He sucks greedily through your climax, and only stops when you ease back onto the table, boneless and panting.

"Good girl," he rasps, face wet with your cum, tongue flicking again against your overstimulated flesh just to feel the way you jolt under him.

"You make such pretty sounds," a new voice rumbles, smooth and teasing, and you have to force your head to turn toward it, dizzy from pleasure.

An orc stands just a few steps away, legs spread slightly, and his hand is wrapped around the thick shape straining against his trousers.

There is hunger in his gaze as his eyes drag slowly up your body, lingering on your heaving chest before locking on your face. "Think you can handle another one?"

You nod before the words even register, helpless under the weight of your own desire. Your mind is mushed by that crooked smile that spreads across his face, highlighting the fact that he is missing a tusk.

He steps in, his size casting a broad shadow over you, and braces one hand on the table beside your head. "Good," he murmurs.

Then he kisses you. His mouth is rough and greedy, tasting like smoke and someone else.

Between your legs, Nomad doesn't let up; if anything, he grows more methodical. His fingers thrust deep and slow, curling with intent and dragging along every nerve-ending until your thighs tremble and your breath stutters in your throat. He moves in a rhythm designed to torture: just shy enough to make you come, but more than enough to keep you right on the edge, stretched and soaked and aching for more. You're not sure how many fingers he's using now, two, maybe three, but they feel thick, deliberate, prying you open with slow, twisting strokes that make you clamp down and whimper with every drag of his knuckles. The stretch is maddening, a sharp, perfect pressure that has your legs twitching uncontrollably. And beneath it all, you can hear it: the wet, obscene sound of your cunt greedily sucking him in, again and again, slick and loud and filthy as he works you open for Arson's cock.

"Fuck," Nomad grunts, thumb brushing over your clit. "She is almost ready."

You can barely process his words. Your world has narrowed to the tangled heat of bodies around you and the pulse of pleasure that builds and builds without release. The orc's lips are molten on your skin, moving with agonizing patience down the line of your neck. He takes his time, tasting your skin, nosing against the dip above your collarbone before finally reaching the swell of your breast. His tongue laps lazily at your nipple, teasing and wet, sending shocks of pleasure straight to your core. Your back arches into him instinctively, craving more, and he rewards you with a slow, sucking pull that makes your legs tremble and your fingers claw at the edge of the table. Meanwhile, the heat of Arson's cock lingers just inches away, thick and pulsing, leaking with need.

"Okay," Nomad groans, voice rough and low. He glances up, eyes gleaming. "Try now, big guy."

You barely have time to brace yourself before Nomad eases his fingers from you with one last deep curl that makes your body clench around the sudden emptiness. It leaves you gasping, open and aching while his hand moves to Arson's cock. He wraps his fingers around the thick length of the dragon, guiding him closer. The weight of the Arson's cock presses against you, and even with how wet and stretched you are, the first nudge steals the air from your lungs. The blunt tip parts you slowly, pushing just barely inside.

"Easy," Nomad murmurs, tone both soothing and commanding. "Don't rush it."

Arson growls low as he leans forward, one massive hand planted beside your hip for balance. His other grips your thigh tightly, holding you open as his tip finds your entrance, broad, heated, and already slick with both your wetness and his need. He rolls his hips with aching slowness, and the stretch burns in the most delicious, overwhelming, and maddening way.

"Breathe, sweetheart," the orc murmurs around your nipple, his hand slipping down between your legs. His thick fingers find your clit and begin to rub slow, steady circles that pull your mind from the tension of the stretch to the soft, pulsing warmth blooming inside you.

The first inch is almost too much.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry, eyes fluttering shut as Arson slowly begins to sink into you, inch by inch, with Nomad's steady hand guiding every motion. You feel every thick ridge, every pulse.

"Good," Nomad murmurs, crouching lower, lips brushing your knee, his eyes locked on the place where Arson's cock slowly disappears inside you. "She's taking you so good."

"Doing so good for us," the orc says, kissing your jaw before letting his lips trail back to your chest. His mouth finds your nipple again, tugging gently, tongue swirling with maddening attention.

You whimper, caught between the steady rhythm of his mouth, the relentless glide of Arson stretching deeper inside you, and the heat of Nomad's breath against your skin.

The dragon's claws dig gently into your flesh, not to hurt, but to anchor both of you. His voice is ragged when he finally speaks. "Just a little more," he growls, a shudder running through his massive frame.

And then he is fully seated, hips flush against yours, your body pulled tight around him. The stretch is deep and consuming, but the pain soon melts into something hotter and much more addictive when the dragon begins to move. He pulls back only to press in again with a deep, shuddering groan. His scales brush against your thighs, the low heat of his body seeping into your skin, and the sheer size of him makes each movement feel like he does it for the first time.

Nomad shifts closer, rounding the groaning table underneath you to lean down and capture your lips and every breathy moan that leaves your heaving chest. His lips are warm and demanding, and the taste, the taste of you and Arson, sparks something hot and primal inside you. Your hand, weak and sweaty, wraps around his horn, keeping him close as you chase the sharp tang on his tongue. And while you are busy with the demon, the orc wanders down your body, leaving kisses across your belly and pausing only for a second just to dip lower and let his tongue flick over your clit. He licks the sensitive b ud as much as the awkward angle allows him. His greedy grunts and groans vibrate across your spine and Arson's hulking frame.

"Fuck-" Nomad groans when he tears himself away from your mouth, one hand pressing down on your lowe belly where is can clearly feel the other male moving in and out of you. "Do you feel this?"

Of course you do.

It's impossible not to. Every inch of Arson pulses through you, thick and deep. He moves like he wants to devour you, grinding inside while you lie sprawled on the table, slick and trembling, your spine arching as your body struggles to contain the heat rising in waves through you. The edges of the world blur, and all you can feel is them.

"You're doing so well," Nomad murmurs, voice like smoke curling around your already dizzy mind. "You take him so deep. Are you close, sweet thing? Are you ready to fall apart for us?"

You try to speak, but all that escapes is a raw, broken cry that tears from your throat. The pub spins around you, lights streaking into a haze, and you nod frantically, too far gone for anything else. Your toes curl, your legs shake, and your fingers scrabble for purchase against the wood beneath you, nails digging into the grain like you might otherwise float away.

Arson drives into you fast and hard, causing your body to clamp down around him instinctively, fluttering and wanting under the orc's tongue lapping at everything you and the dragon give him. The slurping sounds he makes are messy and eager. He doesn't stop, doesn't even slow, savoring the taste of you both like it's the best thing he's ever known.

You're burning. Aching. Your nerves are wires strung too tight, humming with electricity, and when you finally manage a breath, deep, desperate, and shuddering, it breaks you wide open. Your orgasm is blinding and breath-stealing. Your back bows off the table, muscles locking as the tension finally gives way in a wave of pure, trembling release. Your cry is swallowed by the roar in your ears, by the sound of skin on skin, by Arson's voice rasping your name. And still, he moves. Still, he grinds into the aftershocks of your orgasm, chasing his own high with a pace that shakes the table beneath you, and you are almost sure the old wood will give up under you when Arson snarls and suddenly pulls out with a gasp, thick shaft glistening. He strokes himself once, twice, and with a guttural sound that vibrates through your bones, he releases, his hot length pulsing as thick, sticky heat paints your stomach in heavy spurts.

Your whole body trembles as you look at your own skin, muscles still trembling, but it's not only you whose attention is drawn to the mess Arson released on you. Both the orc and Nomad move almost in sync to hover above you, dipping low enough so the wet heat of their tongues drag on your messy skin, licking up what Arson left behind while staring at each other with a look that says the night is far from over.