A/N:

NSFW!

Mature Audiences ONLY, please.

Okay, so Lee Pace has a pretty firm grasp on me now.

Not that I'm letting go of Tom any time soon, but Lee . . . wow.

Anyway, last month was an utter bitch and I got lots of writing done but nothing actually finished, of course.

This was done in a matter of hours and probably reflects that, but I don't care.

Oh, and, in case I didn't portray it correctly, this is ENTIRELY consensual on her part.

Might - possibly - be part of a series, but I dunno.

Erotica, Fluff, PWP, Sex, Double Penetration, D/s, Threesome, Menage, Forced Orgasm, Smut

She was awakened the way she most often was - on weekends or holidays - when they knew they could keep her captive there, when they knew there were no timelines for anyone - her in particular - to worry about, when they knew they could have her in whatever way they wanted her, when they could use her as they liked and not have to worry about alarm clocks.

And they could have her for breakfast.

As always, she awoke slowly, unwillingly, but there was nothing she could do to prevent them from having their way(s) with her. She was between them, dwarfed by them, hands rendered useless by long male fingers interlaced with shorter, smaller, more delicate female ones held in place well above her head - each of them sacrificing a hand to keep them that way.

The sheer power and strength and number of long, thickly muscled limbs around and between and over her left her lower body utterly impotent in the face of their potency.

She was completely captive to them.

Overwhelmed, overpowered, and over-stimulated.

Just the way she liked it.

Fingers there and there at the same time -

And the lips . . .

Bearded or mustachioed.

There and oh holy Gawd there, too.

Gasping helplessly - continually.

That melodious female voice they both so adored reduced to incoherent, uncontrollable moaning.

And plaintive, whispered begging.

Yet still, when they felt the time was right, moving in unison by unspoken agreement, her body became no longer her own but theirs by right of occupation, suddenly, as she writhed while being forcefully, doubly impaled, arching frantically away from one and into the other, then back again.

No matter how many times they did this - no matter how many times she did her best to submit to their wills, it had never gotten any easier.

Nor any less pleasurable.

And they both had their full knowledge of her truths in mind when they did it . . .

Seeing to it that she was completely stretched and filled in front, emptied in back.

Then reversed.

Subjected to their relentless rhythm and other methods of displaying their overt greediness, as if they would never get enough of her.

Kissed.

Plucked.

Tapped.

Rubbed.

Panting.

Sighing.

Positioned they way they wanted her, with no say as to how they possessed her.

Seeking more leverage, she found herself lifted, held between them as they were on their spread knees on their big bed, with her essentially hanging between them from their engorged cocks.

Fucked out of her mind.

Still, as ever, they paid acute attention to her while attaining their own pleasure through her, each noticing every little thing about the state of her arousal - taut nipples, heavy breathing, juices flowing to spill over them and ease their complete possession of her, each attending to her in his own way, in way he knew she liked the best, that made her feel at once the most submissive and the most cosseted and the most desirable.

The one with longish, curly ginger hair behind her, using her hair like a rein to keep her head pressed to his shoulder, forcing her to arch her neck almost painfully while his free hand sometimes clasped that neck tightly, sometimes preferring to cruelly pinch her nipples, for his partner - the bigger of the two by height only - to then soothe generously, suckling hard, creating a different kind of ache with strong fingers working her very swollen, tender nub in perfect synchronization with their forceful thrusts, at times soft and teasing, other times furiously demanding.

They knew her well enough to time things to the very second, each believing very firmly in the old adage, "Ladies first," and adding their own credo to it, "Ladies always."

Unless she was in a state of naughtiness, she would always be made to cum.

Hard, and loud, and as often as they thought she should.

She had no choice in the matter.

As if by some silent signal, they simultaneously amped up the speed with which they were pounding into her, lips finding that secret spot on her neck from behind her while her mouth was plundered from above in the front, that poor teased, aching clit of hers polished roughly and avidly by two large callused fingertips that weren't going to take no for an answer.

The event they sought for her was always so big, so Earth-shattering that, when it was inevitable, she tried to fight them, but by then she was well past the point of doing anything to aid her situation.

Except submitting -

To them, and the devastating, mind erasing ecstasy they were forcing on her.

There was no escaping it.

Every atom of her body was committed to them.

Committed to it.

Knowing, even through the inevitable fear, that she was absolutely, ultimately and completely safe.

That, as her defenseless body exploded violently around them, clenching and clamping onto the objects of her subjugation, clinging to that which had brought her to this euphoric state as if their savage thrusts were life giving, as necessary as the air she breathed.

Heavily.

In drastic gulps.

Through tortured wails.

And whispered pleas.

And, although every single one of them was heard and noted, her anguished cries of a Heaven found on Earth were accepted by both as nothing less than their due.

At least until their own blissful - deeper, masculine growls - cries joined hers, as they were shaken to their very cores, so much so that they had to think about not toppling over so as to avoid hurting her in the aftermath as they lay her gently back down on the bed between them, where she forever belonged

She was the one.

Their one and only.

Or, as the taller of the two liked to call her, with a teasing twinkle in his eye.

Their Precious.