Work Text:
Scaramouche liked watching. Childe liked to be watched. Dottore didn’t really care for either one, finding it much more sensible to participate in such activities in the traditional sense.
He often found it difficult, however, to avoid getting caught in between the two.
But he was certainly in no place to argue, especially not when Childe's hips jerked forward, burying his length deep inside Dottore's ass, eliciting a punched-out, far too shrill grunt out of the older man. His body went rigid as a wave of arousal shot through him, and the ropes binding his limbs bit into his skin with the sudden twitch.
The ropes were also something that Dottore often found himself caught up in.
Scaramouche did certainly enjoy his little hobby of his. Dottore didn't entirely understand the fascination, considering it little more than an incredibly crude parlor trick that took too long to set up. Dottore thought that if he wanted to waste his time in learning to tie knots a certain way, he should have been a sailor.
Of course, that wasn't to say that Dottore hadn't developed an appreciation for the end result. The constant pressure, the slight bite to them, the little pink indentations they left behind on his and Childe's skin. Those usually only lasted a few hours at most. But Dottore bruised easily. Sometimes, they lasted for days. That, he liked the most.
Not that he would admit that to Scaramouche. That smug bastard could stand to be knocked down a peg or two. Especially now, as he leisurely leaned back in the armchair across from the bed. One hand was holding what was - in all honesty - a ridiculously long cigarette holder to lips twisted up in a smirk, and the other was on his cock, almost absentmindedly stroking it as he looked on.
Dottore and Childe were on the bed. Dottore's arms were tied behind his back, and his thighs and calves were bound flush as if to keep them in a kneeling position. Childe, either graciously or ungraciously, had not been given the same treatment. His arms and legs were free to roam, free to have manhandled Dottore onto his side, sidle up behind him, and start fucking him in that position. They were, of course, both facing Scaramouche. He was the one this little display was for.
Childe giggled suddenly, his breath tickling the back of Dottore's neck, and pressed himself even closer to him. Dottore could feel Childe's chest press up against his back as he leaned in to kiss the shell of his ear, and he draped his arm over his waist.
"Your toes are curling," Childe whispered playfully, his fingers soft as they brushed over Dottore's stomach. "Does it feel really good like this?"
Dottore had an indignant response on the tip of his tongue, but it quickly fizzled out as Childe jerked his hips forward, hitting him deep, eliciting nothing but a shrill grunt and a shudder from him. Childe's tongue flicked out against the back of his ear, drawing a line from bottom to top as he thrust into him like that, until Dottore couldn't remember what he was going to gripe about in the first place. Childe bottomed out inside him over and over again, finding a rhythm that made Dottore forget himself with each wave of pleasure building on top of the last. His cock was dripping with need, and his hips began to move of their own volition.
"Keep your hips open, sweetheart." Scaramouche's voice suddenly cut through the sound of Dottore's soft moans and the gentle slap of skin against skin. Dottore remembered himself with a somewhat exasperated moan. His leg had started to droop downwards as he rocked back against Childe's cock. He lifted it back up, but they had been laying like that for a while, and his thigh trembled with the effort. It didn't help matters that Childe was still driving into him at the same pace, sending jolts of hot arousal through him that seized control of his body however they pleased.
Scaramouche just watched him struggle with a smirk on his face, taking a drag from his cigarette as he slowly stroked himself.
"Come on, now," Scaramouche cooed teasingly. "It's not much of a show if I can't even see it properly. Lift your leg up higher."
Dottore's indignance flared again, despite the way that Childe's movements were, in fact, still making his toes curl, and he managed to pick his head up and glare over at Scaramouche.
"What do you think I am? A goddamn acrobat?" Dottore panted. "It doesn't go any higher than that!"
Scaramouche rolled his eyes. "Fine, princess." Dottore saw his gaze flicker to Childe. "Put him on his back."
Dottore heard Childe's breath hitch, his hips bucking forward one last time before pulling himself out. He got up on his knees and rolled Dottore over on his back, looking back up at Scaramouche.
"How do you want us?" Childe breathed. He had one hand resting on Dottore's stomach, tantalizingly close to his dripping erection. Dottore’s hips twitched, desperate for contact, but Childe would not oblige. Dottore knew he wouldn't, not until he was given permission, but it was still enough to make him whimper in frustration as his need went unattended to.
"I want both of you facing me," Scaramouche ordered. Childe immediately took Dottore by the hips and maneuvered his body around until his head was at the edge of the bed. If Dottore craned his neck back far enough, he could see Scaramouche directly behind him. Childe urged his hips back open, settling himself in between his legs. He hadn't taken his eyes off Scaramouche.
"Is this good?" Childe asked.
Scaramouche let out a pleased hum. "Mm hm. Good boy. Since Dottore's getting tired, you'll just have to put on an extra special show. You think you can do that for me, baby?"
Childe inhaled sharply. "Yes. I will."
Childe finally ripped his gaze away from him, and it landed back on Dottore. Childe took his own cock in his hand, and Dottore moaned as he pressed himself against his entrance. He rolled his hips forward, just rubbing his length against his hole as his cockhead prodded his perineum.
Childe's eyes bounced back and forth between Dottore and Scaramouche as he moved, finally catching the rim of Dottore's ass and letting himself slip inside. They both groaned in tandem as Childe buried himself deep, filling him to the brim. A shiver went down Dottore's spine at the sensation, and his eyelids fluttered closed as Childe wiggled himself around in his depths.
"Mm, you two sure do know how to sing for me," Scaramouche said, lust making his voice raspy. "Childe, tell me how he feels."
Childe was thrusting slowly now, a mewl escaping his lips at Scaramouche's encouragement. "Oh, he feels so good."
"Mm hm. He's such a good little cocksleeve, isn't he?" Scaramouche asked lowly. The phrase made a wave of arousal roll through Dottore, and he gasped as his cock twitched against his stomach. Childe was looking, eyeing his erection hungrily as he fucked him.
"Can I please touch him?" Childe asked breathlessly, nearly whimpering. Another rush of lust, another reason for Dottore's cock to twitch and for his mind to go hazy, because he had asked it like he was desperate for it, like it meant more to him than his own pleasure. Dottore's breath hitched in excitement. He felt like he couldn't talk; his words failed him, when things were like this, when he was too focused on the bite of his binds and the presence of the bodies around him to summon language. But if he could have, he would have begged: please, more, we're being so good, let me feel more.
"Not yet, baby." The reply was enough to make Dottore cry out in dismay, his hips twitching as it suddenly felt like his own need was too much to possibly bear. He clenched around Childe, and the younger man whined.
"No complaining, now," Scaramouche teased, taking another drag off his cigarette. "You two be good, and you can come once I do. So fuck him slow for me, baby. Show me something really nice."
Childe just bit his lower lip, then kept moving. His attention had fallen fully on Dottore below him, who hiccuped at every agonizingly tender brush against his prostate as Childe thrust inside him. Each plunge inwards was deliberate, lovingly choreographed, and a show was certainly what he put on as he drove into Dottore. But the older man's need still went neglected, and he writhed desperately against the ropes that kept him from unraveling. He just wanted to move, he wanted to touch himself, touch anywhere - he wouldn't have even touched his cock, he deliriously thought to himself, though that was probably a lie. He wanted to grab Childe by the back of the thighs while he buried himself down to the hilt, he wanted to run his hand through his own hair and revel in the tingles that would break out at the back of his neck and run all the way down his spine, he wanted to feel his own skin break out in gooseflesh at every soft, reverent exclamation that Childe breathed out when Dottore tightened around him just right and made his cock strained against his tight inner walls. Dottore's mind swam with all the tiny, insignificant possibilities of what he could be doing, and it made the ropes twisted around his limbs feel even tighter. Desperation heightened every sensation tenfold, hundredfold, until he thought he would explode from it.
Dottore almost sobbed as he looked up at Childe with pleading eyes, despite knowing that he was not the one that should be pleaded with.
"Oh, please," Dottore mewled, not able to muster anything more than a whisper, probably not even loud enough for Scaramouche to hear. Childe's breath hitched, and something in his eyes suddenly changed. His gaze flickered back to Scaramouche, still leisurely stroking himself as his cigarette burned down to the filter, and then he leaned over Dottore and caught his open mouth with his lips. His hands found their way to his hair, lacing his fingers in celeste strands as he slid his tongue over Dottore's, tasting the moan he let out. As he kissed him, he jerked his hips forward roughly, several times in succession, hard enough to send Dottore inching further towards the edge and make him see stars.
Childe parted from the kiss then, his hold on Dottore's head now the only thing keeping his head from lolling back over the edge of the bed. Childe dipped his head down, pressing his lips to Dottore's ear, and he whispered.
"Look at him."
Childe suddenly fisted his hands in Dottore's hair, and he pulled back. Dottore let out a yelp, the sensation electricity tingling at his scalp and all the way down to his toes. But now his head was dangling off the edge of the bed, and directly behind him, he could see Scaramouche.
Scaramouche froze mid-stroke for a moment. His cock was standing erect in his lap, precum beading at the tip, his cigarette long since burned out.
Childe kept thrusting, and Dottore could do nothing but lock eyes with Scaramouche as helpless, wanton whimpers were fucked out of him. Scaramouche's eyes glazed over with lust as he watched them. His hand started moving again, and he slowly set his cigarette holder down against the ashtray beside him without looking at it.
Scaramouche was looking at him like a piece of meat, and it was so depraved that Dottore felt himself lose all sense. He could see him squeeze out the bead of precum at the tip of his dick, watched it drip down his length until his own hand overtook it, moving faster now. Dottore's mouth started to water.
Childe nibbled the side of his neck, and licked a stripe up from the crux of his collarbone all the way to his jaw, seizing it between his teeth hard enough to leave welts. He sucked on the mark he left, kissed his way up to the corner of Dottore's mouth, which was now hanging open as he gaped at Scaramouche. Dottore could feel him smile, then Childe looked up at the other man too.
"Scaramouche," Childe called breathlessly, an impish lilt to his tone. "I think his mouth is lonely."
Scaramouche's breath hitched, and within a second, he was on his feet. He quickly approached them, cock in hand, and Dottore, in all his depravity, stuck out his tongue to meet him. He took him in his mouth like it was all he was good for, like the desperate whore he was, like the good little cocksleeve that Scaramouche had so aptly described him as, and he secured his lips around the throbbing length as he savored the salt on his tongue. Childe set no greater example for propriety, moaning loudly as he dragged his lips and tongue over the exposed shaft of Scaramouche's cock while Dottore suckled on the head. Scaramouche wrapped one hand around Dottore's neck, pressing his thumb against his trachea, while the other fisted itself into Childe's hair, and he let out a heated groan as he started thrusting.
"Touch him, touch him now," Scaramouche rasped, heated urgency lacing the words. Childe quickly reached in between them, and finally, finally took Dottore in his hands, wrapping his fingers around him and drawing them up to the tip, stroking circles around the head of his cock with his thumb.
"Oh, Gods, he's so hard," Childe whined, breath hot where their lips met with Scaramouche's erection, and it was all Dottore could stand before his climax swallowed him whole. He came without permission, eyes rolling back and a strangled keen making its way out around the dick in his mouth. He clenched around Childe's cock, and it only took a few more erratic thrusts before the younger man was coming with him, a broken cry tumbling out of him as his release filled the tight confines of Dottore's insides.
Scaramouche did not seem too terribly perturbed by the infringement of their earlier deal. He thrust inside Dottore's mouth a while longer until a loud moan overtook him, and he quickly withdrew. Pumping himself to completion, he came between them, taking care not to ignore either of the two open mouths waiting to receive his seed. Coming down from his orgasm, he let his twitching cock rest between their cum-covered lips, both of them still eagerly suckling on the head even as their chests heaved and their bodies trembled.
After a while, Scaramouche let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair.
"You two think you can get away with anything, don't you?" Scaramouche groused.
Childe just let out an airy laugh, while Dottore was still too delirious to even respond. Childe swiped a few stray drops of cum off Dottore's chin with his finger, popping it into his own mouth and slurping it clean. He pressed a kiss to the side of Dottore's mouth before chuckling.
"I don't know. It seemed like a pretty good show to me, though."