Chapter Text
“Good evening, Mirage,” The ever polite Doorman smiled at him as he stepped into The Baroness' lobby. Mirage blinked as he took in the changed front desk, remembering that it had been different that morning when he had left to go on with his business. There was a plant on either end that now did not allow a view of behind the front desk, and the actual desk was higher. He decided to put it from his mind, else he thought a little too deeply about what all the Doorman could do and then the headaches and nose bleeds would come back.
“Good evening, Doorman,” He said as he stepped up to the desk, “You inquired about my assistance? For housing myself and Nashala, I feel a duty to aid where I can.”
“It is a small matter,” The Doorman smiled, his eyes glowing in a rather ominous way that set off Mirage’s innate prey instincts for some reason-- well, that was not true, he knew the reason, it was just safer for his sanity to not think about it. The entity gestured at the front desk, “I am afraid that I must step away from the front desk for a moment to deal with an important guest, and all other available staff are busy. Would you do me a kindness and stand here for me? For just a little while?”
“That seems simple enough,” Mirage mused, very nervous for some reason. The Doorman gestured at the door that led behind the desk and Mirage slowly walked to it, undid the latch just inside and swung it in, stepping behind the desk and looking at the Doorman and happening to look down and--
“Ah,” Mirage choked, feeling his face go red hot as he looked at a bound, blindfolded and ‘O’ gagged Drifter kneeling in front of where the Doorman was, the entity’s usually neat trousers pushed down mid-thigh, an unnatural slit at his crotch where a thick inky tentacle had sprung from his body and seemed to be buried in not only the Drifter’s mouth, but also was causing his throat to bulge as well.
“He is being punished,” The Doorman said, cheery like and completely unbothered as he pulled away, the tentacle slithering back inside of his body and that slit closing, leaving a smooth crotch as The Doorman pulled up his trousers and neatly did them back up. He pulled the gag from Drifter’s head, smiling as he landed several rather firm smacks to Drifter’s cheek as the creature panted wet and hoarse. “Would you also do me a kindness and watch him as well? I will be back briefly!”
And then he was gone and Mirage tried to not think about that, instead just looking gobsmacked at the Drifter of all creatures kneeling there. Not moving to get up or start running his imperious and filthy mouth, not struggling against his bonds or even complaining about his ‘punishment’. Wait… was he… here of his own free will?
Scoffing as he felt himself get hot, he stepped behind the counter and meant to just stand next to the deplorable creature, reaching out to take the check in book and tug it over. His intent was to ignore him, but the creature seemed to smell him, because Mirage jolted as Drifter’s head thumped against his leg, the creature panting hoarsely as he rubbed his cheek against Mirage’s pants. He flushed, wondering what the Doorman had done to him to make him act like this. But… he had seen Drifter dig his claws into stone and concrete and brickwork to climb up walls around the city, surely some hemp rope would pose nothing against his enhanced strength. Could he not escape or… did he… not want too?
Drifter rubbed his cheek against his pant legs again, still panting hot and heavy. His nose brushed dangerously close to the sensitive inner parts of his thighs. He shifted away and Drifter whined from the loss, Mirage’s eyes falling to Drifter’s crotch and the erection that was refusing to flag. Had he really liked getting his throat fucked by… whatever tentacle that had been? What an odd and filthy creature…
Mirage nibbled on his lower lip as he looked at the Drifter’s open and panting mouth, a long and far too red tongue lulling out.
An odd and filthy creature with such strange habits. Because it seemed like the Drifter had consented to being treated like this and based on how Drifter kept trying to rub his cheeks against him and knowing the man’s hyper aware nose, Drifter knew he was here. The Doorman had called him here and told him to ‘watch over him’ and that he was ‘being punished’. Those two had a very… odd relationship. If you could call it that.
Feeling a little insane, Mirage gave a guilty look to the main lobby. Strangely, no one was there. Usually there was at least a few people milling about as they drank and waited for their rides, people waiting for their things to be delivered to their room or waiting for their things to be taken from their room, or people speaking about what they were going to do outside the hotel. There was no one but them and he had a sinking feeling that there would be no one coming but the entity himself. Mirage looked down at Drifter again. And then heaved out a great sigh.
“I suspect that you wish to use your… mouth?” He asked.
Surprisingly Drifter said nothing, where normally he would run his imperious mouth like the blood that often fell from his mouth after one of his sanguine meals. But he opened his mouth just a little wider and let his dark red tongue lull out further, as though to be enticing. And Mirage hated himself that it was. When was the last time he found some… ‘alone time’ since he had decided to help Nashala and her people? He did not regret it, his devotion or the time spent, but he sometimes did become aware how little time he had to himself for much of anything. And well… he glanced around the lobby, still seeing no one. There was a willing (albeit normally nasty) creature who was offering his mouth in whatever twisted sexual game that he and the Doorman played…
Sighing deeply, he blushed as he worked his pants down to midthigh, before awkwardly cupping the back of Drifter’s head (his hair felt washed, the thought that Doorman had likely washed him like an unruly dog nearly made him burst out laughing) before guiding the Drifter’s eager mouth to his crotch. The Drifter inhaled like a beast scenting blood, before his slightly cool face pressed against his crotch, a deep guttural moan rattling through his chest before Mirage felt the pass of a nearly burning hot tongue messily swipe along his t-cock. Another groan tumbled from his chest, sounding like a landslide, as Drifter tried to excitedly fumble his t-cock into the creature’s mouth. Contrasting to the creature’s room temperature lips, his mouth seemed to be burning as he managed to get his lips around Mirage’s t-cock, sucking on it with vigor and making Mirage’s thighs and knees shake violently. Oooh, it had been far too long since he had had the pleasure of a bed mate. He tilted his head back, sighing deeply as pleasure sizzled and tickled along his belly, a pleasant and deep heat starting to build.
Unfortunately, the position meant that Drifter could only suck him off. As much as he enjoyed his dick being lavished with attention, he did enjoy other parts of him getting an enthusiastic tongue upon them. Face hot, he glanced around the lobby once more just to make sure that it was empty, before reluctantly pulling away. Drifter pathetically growled, sounding more wound up than anything, as he kicked out of one boot and then tugged one leg free from his trousers, before using the newly free leg to hook over the Drifter’s shoulder and drag him back. Feeling the new angle, the Drifter moaned even louder than before, that hot tongue immediately pressed against his hole, noisily lapping up the evidence of his arousal, taking his time in doing so, savoring it more so than his usual meals. And ooh how good it felt. There was a slight noticeable texture to his tongue that felt fucking amazing as Drifter lapped at his hole hungrily, licking up the slick that he started producing more and more of as pleasure bubbled and churned harder and harder in his guts. When Mirage felt the prodding of that tongue against him, he tried shifting his legs to allow better access, but with their position it was hard--
“Oh my,” Doorman cooed into his ear, sliding with inhuman fluidity behind him. He gasped, first in shock and then in pleasure as Drifter managed to get the angle right and the tip of that hot tongue eased into his hole, wriggling around as much as the creature could manage as the Doorman slid arms around his torso and easily took most of his weight. The Doorman leaned back with him, tilting his hips up and opening him up to allow Drifter to sloppily try to tongue fuck his hole as much as the creature could wriggle his tongue inside. “I did not know how readily you would take to our… ‘little game’, but I dare say I am happy that you took to it like a fish to water.”
Mirage, torn between the embarrassment of being ‘caught’ and the fact that he was getting closer to orgasm, just breathed through his teeth as the Drifter’s nose ground against his t-cock. The Doorman’s hands rubbed along his still clothed chest and stomach, a nose drifting along his neck and ear as the Doorman gave an endeared little chuckle.
“You must have wondered why, dear guest,” The Doorman continued, unbearably soft lips brushing against Mirage’s neck as Drifter kept trying to make him go mad. Why was he so good with his tongue? Why was he getting so hot and bothered by this?
“Why?” He rasped, lacking any real thoughts in his head, especially as the Drifter did something with that devilish tongue around his t-cock that made his thighs tremble violently.
“Yes, why such a deplorable creature that normally causes so much trouble would allow himself to be treated as such,” The Doorman said. Mirage happened to glance down and saw a gloved hand gripping the Drifter’s hair and shoving his face deeper into Mirage’s crotch. Surprisingly, he did not bristle at this, but instead moaned his loudest yet against Mirage, who mewled in pleasure. His eyes screwed tight, especially as he still felt the two hands on his chest. No need to ruin his orgasm by thinking those things that did not need to be thought. “Dearest guest, it is quite simple and also the answer to why he keeps participating in the rituals. Because for a creature that has been an apex predator for so long, to be made to be submissive prey is entertaining to him.”
That made sense, or at least as much as it could with how very few brain cells he could spare for anything that was not ‘I really want to cum’. When his thighs clamped down on the sides of the Drifter’s head, probably effectively cutting off air to him, the Drifter just mewled and licked more frantically.
“And one has urges, even one like me. Urges that are not quite up to the Baroness’ standards for guest service. Mean things. Cruel things. It is a mutually beneficial exchange for both of us,” The Doorman continued, voice light and pleasant and nonplussed as Mirage started shuddering with his coming pleasure. He was so close, everything in his lower body tight with mounting tension or going loose with blind pleasure. When a clever hand rubbed where one of his nipples were underneath his shirt his legs threatened to go limp.
He would not have been surprised if he made quite a mess on the Drifter’s tongue, would not have been surprised if the Doorman made the Drifter lick him all through it and then lick up the mess afterwards, though maybe that was his wish. It had been far too long since he selfishly sought his own pleasure--
“Hmm,” The Doorman said, no longer sounding light and pleasant and nonplus. “I am afraid we have unintended guests. I do apologize.”
And suddenly, the fact that they could be caught suddenly dawned on him. He barely had time to gasp in shock before he soundly found himself sitting on the Drifter’s lap, tucked out of sight underneath the altered front counter. The sudden change had him reeling, his hands fluttering up to grab the Doorman’s trousers as the man stood where he normally was. His eyes had been shut the entire time and he kept them shut as he felt slightly dizzy for a moment before settling. As he heard the Doorman start spieling above, not caring that Mirage was clinging to him, the dizziness passed and he was surprised how the desperate lust came raging back. His orgasm cruelly denied, how mean.
He felt something twitch against his ass, realizing with some mild embarrassment that the Drifter’s still hard cock was pressed against him. When he tentatively ground his hips down against it, the Drifter made a weak little growl, forehead digging into Mirage’s shoulder as he tried to grind up against him. Shamefully he ached for it. But… there was little chance that the Drifter had something to put on his cock, which limited his options. But that other option needed lube for it--
The Doorman was speaking above them still. Did doormen check in guests or was this particular one just a jack of all trades for the Baroness? Given what he was, perhaps so. Either way, he did not seem to be moving soon. Or so Mirage thought, because as soon as that thought flitted through his mind, he felt something slight slick grind against his front, something that suspiciously felt like one of those tentacles that he had seen the Drifter being throat fucked with. He opened his eyes, looking down to confirm it was, slowly and loosely wrapping around him, one was now between his legs and rubbing hard against him. He gripped the Doorman’s trousers harder and fought so very hard to keep quiet, knowing that there was someone in front of the desk, but that tentacle felt so good rubbing against him, stoking his pleasure right back to where it was. So much so that, when it angled itself and he felt a blunted tip against his hole, he offered no resistance as it gently worked itself inside. He did gasp as he was penetrated, legs opening wide to offer more, to be fucked deeper, and when an elderly woman asked what that noise was, the Doorman replied so nonchalantly and so easily that the Baroness sometimes showed her age by the creaking and groaning of her history rich bones, but also an assurance that the Baroness was a beautifully and structurally sound building. The incoming guest was easily distracted from further questions by the Doorman mentioning the hotel’s in house bar and their wonderful selection of single malts, and the mention of a wide selection of excellently reviewed restaurants close by.
The tentacle started out slow, pushing in and out of him with measured movements, shallow and slow at first, almost as if testing his limits. His eyes were still threatening to roll back into his head from just that, thighs shaking as the tentacle stretched him as it pushed and then left him without as it slid almost the whole way out, the blunt tip rolling around just the inside of his hole before pushing back in just to make him writhe. To add to his torment, he felt the Drifter panting hot and heavy against his shoulder, grinding blindly against him. The thought of the Drifter pathetically humping against him, trying to seek his release and likely getting next to nothing in terms of aid added heat in Mirage’s lower belly, for some odd reason. But as the Doorman had said, he was being ‘punished’, so he doubted that even offering the Drifter some relief was an option, and he was enjoying himself far too much to even think about reaching back to fish the Drifter’s cock out to help him.
“Thank you, dear guest, and enjoy your stay in the Baroness!” The Doorman chimed above them.
Mirage, on the cusp of orgasm, barely heard heels clicking away as he started rutting down hard against the tentacle, trying to reach his bliss. He could feel himself dripping from sheer arousal onto the Drifter’s lap, which seemed to only provoke the creature to hump him harder and faster. When a gloved hand almost tenderly cupped his chin and tilted his head to look up at the merciless glowing blue eyes above him as the Doorman placidly smiled down on.
Then he was cumming, clenching tight around the tentacle as it fucked him through all the muscle spasms and electric shocks running down his spine and sparking out through his pelvis and organs, toe curling at the intensity that overtook him, eyes screwing shut as he panted through his teeth like a wounded beast. And it seemed to go on and on, sparks starting in his spine and shooting out to his toes and fingers, himself helplessly and sloppily grinding down against the tentacle as it continued to fuck into him. Only when he suddenly sagged did it stop, his thighs tiredly parting over the Drifter’s to (quite wetly) sit back in his lap.
“You are quite tired, and he still is in need of punishment. Please, dear guest, allow me to show you to your room personally,” The Doorman said jovially above him.
It was all the warning that he needed to ‘brace’, the world blinking from where he had had his fun and then suddenly being sprawled comfortably on the bed of the room that he and Nashala were renting for the time being. She was right where he had left her, safely tucked into her bottle and on one of the sumptuous side tables, quiet and likely sleeping as he could hear the softest whisper of her breathing slow and deep. The bed was perfectly soft on his slack and loose body and he easily sank into it, meaning to just sleep and process what happened in the morning when he awoke to clean himself.
He happened to glance to the side and saw an exquisite card sitting on the bedside table. Stiff white paper, an absolutely beautiful but minimalist style advertising the Baroness. Strange, had he been given a card? Slightly confused, he reached out to take it, looking it over idly, before just as idly flipping it over. He blushed as he read the Doorman’s note.
‘The Baroness thanks you for using her services and implores you to seek them out again’.
Despite being quite tired, some budding warmth bloomed in his lower belly.