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This was a lesson they had taught him before, but Charlie was a shitty fucking student.
The waitress was pregnant — or, at least, that was what she'd told him — and she was so set on assuring him that it was his, because whose else would it be? They'd been sleeping together for months now, with one promise, one goal in mind. Of course, she had never bothered to turn the lights on and look, and Charlie wasn't quite bright enough to figure it out for himself.
Charlie had come into the bar so excited, rambling on about baby names and ideas of the kind of father he would be. It was almost hard for Dennis to burst his bubble, to break the news and remind him that he couldn't have been the father. The cock between his thighs was made of silicone; he couldn't fuck into her plush and pliant cunt, couldn't fuck her full of his seed, couldn't knock her up. No, with the cunt dripping between his own thighs, he was a man made to be fucked and filled and bred.
They hadn't bothered inviting him over with the promise of pizza and beer this time, hadn't bothered with luring him anywhere further than the back office.
Charlie held no objection as they stripped him of his clothes, peppering his body with kisses that could almost be mistaken for tender. No, not tender — this was pitying. He could feel their sympathy dripping down his spine, falling to the floor with the jeans around his ankles. Still, he decided to take it as mercy, as some sort of gift; it was easier to think of these lessons in that light.
Mac usually took to his ass, preferring the white-hot tightness to the plush damp cunt between his thighs. But this time was different, more direct, like his lesson couldn't truly be learned until they stretched him around both of their cocks. Moving one against the other, slotted helplessly between their thrusting hips, Charlie could only grapple himself to Dennis' shoulders and moan.
"Is this what you did to the waitress, Charlie?" Dennis teased, no pity left in his voice as his teeth nipped against the flesh. "Did you fuck her, fill her up with your cock? Or did you fuck her with some cheap plastic imitation?"
Charlie whined, biting down against his bottom lip. Mac's hands steadied against his hips, settling into rhythm alongside Dennis' thrusting, cocks slick and gliding one against the other. He couldn't bring himself to answer, couldn't bring himself to give them the satisfaction of his confession. Instead, he just clenched his eyes shut and squeezed down tight around their swollen pricks.
Delivering another ruthless thrust into his open and eager body, Charlie let out a sharp cry, loud enough for any passing patrons to hear them; everything felt so raw beneath the buzzing of cheap fluorescents, so vulnerable behind the cheap lock. They had hardly bothered with flicking off the lights, never cared to pretend that they were fucking anybody else but him. No, they were perfectly happy to remind him exactly who they were fucking.
"Answer him, Charlie," Mac chimed in, fingernails digging into his hips, bruises serving as a reminder of their little lessons in biology. "Could you feel her getting wet around your cock? Did you cum deep inside her pussy?"
Charlie let out a squeak, the noise choked and failing in his throat. He didn't dare look them in the eyes, didn't dare catch himself in their merciless gaze as he shook his head no.
Threading a hand through his hair and pulling tight, Dennis coaxed Charlie's eyes to meet his gaze as he flashed a ravenous smile, caught somewhere between charming and menacing. A thrill shot up through his belly, heart quickening between his ribs, heat rising to his cheeks as their thrusting picked up speed. He wanted to hide his face, wanted to avert his eyes as his almost-lovers fucked relentlessly into him, but he found no such mercy in Dennis' blue eyes.
"If you didn't cum inside of her," Dennis started, voice oozing with a sickly sort of sweetness that could only accompany the implication, "then how did you get her pregnant?"
Charlie whined, fighting to avert his gaze, fighting to close his eyes against the bitter truth, but Dennis offered him no such mercy. He was always so cruel, teeth always dripping with such brutal little remarks, always whispered like sweet nothings in his ear.
To be fucked mercilessly by two men, to be taken apart at the seams, it was never something that Charlie sought out, never something he could bring himself to turn down. Like paint fumes between his lungs, like the high of inhalants and adrenaline, they'd made an addict of him. Even in the back office, even where anyone might hear them, even with the humiliation rising up to his cheeks, he couldn't bring himself to refuse.
Dennis loosened his grasp around the mess of dark hair, hands steadying themselves against his hips as he rutted into the sweet reprieve of Charlie's tight cunt. Fighting for balance between their sweat-slicked bodies, he leaned back against Mac's embrace, surrendered to his gravity as he fluttered and moaned around their cocks.
There was no mercy in the onslaught, no slowing to allow him to gather his bearings, regain his footing against the desk. Charlie lay subject to their will, legs hooked around Mac's sculpted arms, pulled back to expose him to the flickering backroom light.
Dennis bottomed out inside of him, pushing firm against his cervix as Mac pressed himself alongside him. His body felt stretched to its brim, like he might split apart around their cocks, like they might tear him apart along the seams of his body. Eyes rolling back into his head, Charlie grappled himself against Dennis' shoulders, digging crescent moons into the freckled flesh. If he was going to be marked and dripping in the aftermath, he would at least give his almost-lovers something to remember him by in turn.
Stretched and stinging at the opening of his body, Charlie took the moment as a mercy, as an opportunity to catch the breath failing between his lungs. Pinned between two heavy cocks, fat and weighty and warm as they threatened to split him in half, he savored the fire building between his thighs.
He moaned around their cocks, his body already having forgotten its last lesson; though, how could he ever really forget when they fucked him like this? His body bowing to their every wanton whim, his cunt certainly remembered this sensation.
His cunt had craved this, each and every night that he'd spent with the waitress. He'd found no satisfaction in the toy between his legs, no satiation in the flush press of silicone against the flesh. She'd taken him with such little enthusiasm, her little grunts and groans falling pale in comparison to this. In cramped back offices, fucked against the dirty carpet, it didn't matter when or where; Charlie had been fucking aching for this.
Dennis unsheathed himself ever so slowly, just torturous enough to drag a moan up from the pit of his belly, just enough to watch himself fuck in and out of Charlie's eager body. Always so vain, there was satisfaction in the glide of cock against ruddy cock, pressing deep inside a slick and quivering cunt.
Mac followed suit beneath him, falling in time with his slow and deliberate thrusts, drawing up every little quivered moan from Charlie's lips. Hands grappled against his hips, leaving fingerprint bruises that would stain his skin for weeks on end. The waitress wouldn't see them, always preferring to keep him clothed and cloaked beneath the shroud of shadow. No, this would be his secret alone to keep, to admire in the mirror for weeks after.
With such sickly sweet and devious intention, Dennis let his thrusts pick up speed, hips unleashed with wild and unruly desire. Drawing a hoarse cry up from the pit of his throat, crescent moons drew blood up from pale flesh of his shoulders. Charlie gripped tight for purchase, steadying himself against the force of their rutting bodies.
Dennis pistoned in and out sharply with each thrust as Mac fell into pace beneath him, matching his almost-lover's speed as they moved in tandem. Charlie was left wholly at their mercy, squirming between them as Mac pulled tighter at his legs, pinning him tighter to his body. They fell into a sharp and brutal rhythm, one against the other, teeth and tongues dripping with every ravenous touch.
They were rarely so rough with him, rarely so voracious when they propped him between their teeth, when they deemed him worthy of their attention. But lazy thrusts were exchanged for something that he could not so easily forget, a lesson to be imparted and imprinted across his skin.
Seeking some semblance of control, some place to steady himself against, Charlie squeezed down hard against their cocks, drawing them deeper into his body. They might fuck him past the point of overwhelm, until his throat was straining red and raw beneath his ragged cries, until his lesson was well fucking learned; but he would offer up just as much in return, ecstasy between his open thighs.
Voice rising gruff into his chest, Dennis' hand reached up to thread back through his hair, demanding his gaze turn back toward him, demanding that he look him in the eye.
There was no pity left in his gaze, no softness lingering behind those cold blue eyes. Cruel and unforgiving, he fucked relentlessly into his cunt as he held Charlie's gaze, refusing him the mercy of hiding his face. He wanted to watch the shame rise to his face, wanted to watch his cheeks grow red and ruddy with the humiliation; Dennis wanted to revel in his every sweet little suffering.
"Have you figured it out yet, Charlie?" Dennis growled softly, rutting deeper into his cunt. Charlie couldn't muster up the words, couldn't find any coherence behind his eyes, so he simply shook his head no. "If the waitress is pregnant, that baby isn't yours."
His gaze flicked deviously toward Mac, a wicked grin pulled tight across his teeth. There was cruelty in his blue-eyed gaze, but what was Dennis if not cruel?
"It's not your baby," Dennis cooed, voice dripping sickly sweet from his tongue. "But it could be either of ours. You don't have the parts to knock her up, but we do."
Charlie whimpered at the thought, bucking between the sweat-slicked, thrusting bodies of his friends as his eyes clenched shut and turned away. They wouldn't do that to him, they couldn't have. The truth would sting, but not like this. Even they couldn't be so cruel, to do this to him again…
Bitterness rose with the bile in his throat, grinding in his teeth.
No, they wouldn't do that. Mac was too gay, Dennis was too averse to such responsibility to risk it, even for cruelty's sake. Besides, what was the fun in that? The waitress was too clingy, too annoying, too demanding to suit either of them. No, they would have had more fun knocking up Charlie.
He gulped down hard at the thought, clenching around the cocks impelling into his dripping cunt. They had warned him of the possibility before, had let the threats drip from their tongues like dirty talk, seduction oozing from every word. His mind reeled at the thought, but his body had reacted against his will, pulsing hot and leaking around their cocks.
"Even if we didn't knock up the waitress," Mac pressed further, teeth nipping at the bottom of his ear, "we could still get you pregnant."
Charlie let out a whimper and a cry in the same breath, his mind trapped somewhere between his frenzy and his desire. He wanted to panic, wanted to buck and squirm, wanted to escape the threat building tension between his thighs; but his body wanted more, pulsing hot and wet around his almost-lovers.
He couldn't bring himself to care about the noises spilling from his tongue, or the passersby that might hear them in the back office. Alcoholics and day-drinkers, Dee where she stood tending bar, they could almost certainly hear his every wanton cry. Still, Charlie's frazzled mind could hardly even consider it.
Against his every rising fear, against every stigma and judgment, against every scowl and glare that would be cast his way, Charlie couldn't deny what his body wanted. He couldn't deny the way his cunt fluttered and twitched at the very idea, the way he grew so damp and eager at the very mention of it. He wanted to feel them tighten and spill into his body, to feel the warmth pool in the pit of his belly, to feel them leaking from between his legs for days after this. Against his every better judgment, he wanted to be fucked and filled and bred.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Charlie?" Dennis teased, lips trailing kisses along his collarbones, voice dripping with sweet temptation. "You can't knock up the waitress, so you need someone to fuck a baby into you instead? Is that it?"
Charlie's voice rang out in stuttered cries and gagged desire, lips and tongue and teeth failing around the words in his mouth. He wanted to answer, wanted to bite back with some retort, wanted to break down and beg for it; but all he could manage to do was throw his head back and moan.
"If you want a baby inside you so bad, maybe we should knock you up with twins," Mac growled, delivering another brutal thrust up into his bruised and battered hole. "I think it's only fair, one for each of us."
Charlie's fingernails dug deeper into Dennis' shoulders at the thought, shame rising red to his ruddy cheeks. Blood spilled beneath his grasp, but Dennis always seemed to revel in the pain, taking pleasure in the sting; at least, until he decided he'd had enough.
Suddenly, Dennis reached up to curl tight around Charlie’s wrists, dragging them up from his shoulders to pin them up above his head, fingers twitching against the stale air above them.
This was hardly uncommon practice, his dignity so easily stripped away from him. They would take his balance, the footing out from beneath him, and leave him at their mercy, just as they always had before. Always left squirming and bouncing and clenching around their cocks, hands grasping at the thin air above his head, it was merely another small act of humiliation. Dennis and Mac would hold him upright for as long as they pleased; and Charlie couldn't bring himself to protest, finding ecstasy in the surrender.
Dennis wasn't quite so cruel, though, only taking a moment to revel in the stripping of his control. He only wanted to keep Charlie at his whim, remind him of whose command he obeyed. He'd loosen his grip, but only after holding him tight enough to leave a ring of bruises in the shape of his wrist.
"Go ahead and touch yourself," Dennis coaxed, guiding one hand back down between them, pressing Charlie's fingers firm against his clit. "I want to feel you come around our cocks."
Charlie obeyed without question or protest, moaning as he rolled his clit between his fingers, rubbing hard against himself without regard for grace. Rough and restless against his rutting palm, he chased relentlessly after his own orgasm, ravenous fingers pressing rough against the tender flesh. He wanted to obey, wanted the reward of warmth pooling low in his belly; mostly, Charlie wanted to come.
“Fuck, guys, please,” Charlie begged, clenching down hard around their cocks, the stretch and friction stinging beneath his frantic fingers. "Please, let me come."
“Only if you ask nicely,” Dennis answered nonchalantly, as though his words held no implication, as though his tone held no threat. "Tell us what you want, Charlie."
“Yeah, tell us, Charlie,” Mac teased, breath hot and heavy against the back of his neck, chills chasing all the way down his spine. "I want to hear you scream it."
Charlie wanted to bite his tongue, wanted to swallow the confession and let it burn a hole in his belly, let it fester and rot until he couldn't deny it anymore; but his desperation won out, weeping and quivering between his thighs and spilling from his wanton tongue. The ecstasy was worth more than his dignity, anyway.
"I want you to put a baby in me," Charlie cried out, not quite sure how true the words falling from his tongue were. Still, even if he was lying, the deception sounded too pretty to deny. "I want you to fill me up, I wanna have your twins."
Charlie moaned and bit down hard as fingers worked faster against his clit, the other hand freed to steady himself against the flat of Dennis' chest. He wanted to make himself come, wanted to take every drop into his greedy cunt as Mac's hips bucked up again beneath him, slamming in all the way to the hilt. Heady and carnal, loud enough to alert every patron in the bar, it was enough to draw a fucking symphony up from the depths of Charlie's lungs.
"Good boy," Mac growled low into the crook of his neck; the praises were always easier to coax up from his tongue, never quite so cruel as Dennis. "Good fucking boy."
"Please," Charlie begged, voice shaking as it fell somewhere between his ecstasy and his agony. He couldn't keep this up much longer, fingers still working around his clit. "Please, fuck, I'm gonna—"
"Come for me," Dennis coaxed.
With a final brutal thrust, his would-be lovers buried themselves deep inside of Charlie's cunt and spilled. Gushing hot between his thighs, his back arched sharp as he screamed, his orgasm dragged up from his body and echoing against the backroom walls. Reveling in the hot flood of seed, he felt the implication of it settle low in the pit of his belly, the threat dangling over his head. Still, with every tightened muscle, every trembling limb, Charlie clenched down harder around them, hoping to take in every last drop, hoping that it might take.
He knew better. Charlie Kelly was not a brilliant man, brain fried from too much whiskey, too many noxious fumes, but he knew better than this. But as the orgasm ripped through his body, the seed settled low in his belly, he couldn't help himself but hope.
The threats sounded more like seduction now, the thrill of danger like a siren's call between his eager thighs. The potential of pregnancy, the ringing reminders of his biology, it all sounded so sweet beneath their wrecked cries of ecstasy. Falling back into Mac's open arms, rocking back against the half-broken chair, his breath panted with cries for sweet mercy.
Dennis pulled out of him first, slipping smoothly from his puffy and battered cunt as Mac's cock followed suit, leaving only an ivory pearl of seed between his legs. It wasn't much, mere proof that he had been fucked; his orgasm had done its job in coaxing the rest of their seed deeper inside, milking every last fucking drop from their cocks. Against his every better judgment, against his every whim and will, his body wanted this.
As he came down from his breathless high, he could hear the rattling from the other side of the door, the banging of Dee's fist against the wood. Well, fuck.