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The back of Scout’s neck prickles as Soldier’s breath disturbs the damp hairs there, the other man pressing forward like he’s trying to flatten him against Demo’s chest. The Demoman’s own hands find their way to Scout’s shoulder blades, giving him a fleeting sense of security he desperately needs right now. It’s a struggle to stay relaxed like this; with the Demoman’s cock all the way inside and Soldier not to far from joining him.
The helmet taps against the back of Scout’s head (because apparently Soldier doesn’t take that stupid thing off even for sex) but Scout’s beyond caring at the point. All he wants is more, more inside him, more all over him, more of Demo’s mouth as it presses sloppily against his face.
“Hurry the fuck up, man,” Scout demands, his self-control wavering as he tries not to tense from the inside, “I’m fucking…dying here.”
“Slow down shortstop,” Soldier pants heavily. “If you keep being a goddamned jackrabbit you’ll lose the whole race.”
And Scout doesn’t know what the fuck Soldier is talking about and he doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to slow down, he wants everything nowallatoncecomeonfuckinggiveittome-
Soldier’s chest presses against him, nipples erect and carving into Scout’s back. His hand grips Scout’s forearm, painfully strong, adding the culture of bruises he’s already placed on the runner’s body. All while Scout took Demo, he nibbled at the younger man, pawing, biting, leaving blemishes all over Scout’s skin. Scout feels marked. Like he’s being claimed.
Now Soldier’s still not finished, sliding a hand down to grip firmly at Scout’s ass.
Scout gasps, throaty and needful. “Come on, just fucking…”
“Scout,” Demo warns, eye closed and voice muffled against Scout’s shoulder. “Don’t rush this.”
It’s basically the same thing Soldier said but so much less patronizing coming from the Demoman. His voice is soft and mellow, obviously taking every sensation of their impromptu threesome like he’s savoring a bottle of whiskey, and Scout forces himself to listen to the man’s advice. But it’s hard when Soldier’s fucking stalling and Scout’s dick is sticking straight up between his and Demo’s stomachs. It’s like an unscratchable itch, hot and dry, only occasionally caressed when Demo shifts on the bed. The black hairs of Demo’s abdomen slide against the smoothness of Scouts, trapping the leaking cock in a prison of stimulation.
Scout wants to touch himself. He wants to touch himself so bad, but he knows of he begins now he’ll finish before the other two have even started, left bobbling limply between them like a fucking starfish. It leaves him in an internal war; his pride and his libido going at each other like lions over a zebra.
Shifting his knees a little, Demo lifts Scout higher, preparing him to take Soldier on. Soldier’s ready, sliding a hand on each of Scout’s cheeks, and spreading them apart.
Scout knows what he’ll see: Demo’s dick, perfectly embedding itself in Scout’s hole while lube and sweat leak in his crack. It must be just as good as Scout’s imagining, because Soldier lets out an apprising grunt.
There’s the sound of a condom being opened.
“Please…” Scout complains, only to be silenced as Demo shoves his tongue in Scout’s mouth.
He only pulls back enough to mutter sympathetically, “Scout.”
Scout’s insides churn, but he knows Demo’s right. It takes every once of his very limited self-control to do as Demo’s asking, breathing slowly and unclenching his muscles. It takes another second—the sound of lube being applied filling Demo’s bedroom—but the, finally there’s something hard and wet poking at Scout’s entrance. It’s accompanied the hardened nubs of Soldier’s nipples, back against him again, and a hand along his hip as Soldier begins to guide himself in.
The exertion of fitting another cock inside him makes Scout screw his eyes shut. His voice comes out in fluttering gasps, which only makes Soldier hesitate.
“M’fine,” he mutters, because no way is he going to let anyone back out at his expense. “I can take it.”
Soldier pauses still, his hand so tight it’s already leaving more bruises, but eventually begins to slide in again at the cost of speed. Scout chokes anyway, a strangled cry that brings Demo’s hand up to the side of his head to sooth his troubled whimpers.
It’s not like how Demo went in—smooth and slippery after half an hour of working Scout open—but then again Scout’s never had more than one person inside him before. In fact, before tonight, he’d never even considered, and it’s with vengeful self-flagellation that he wonders why the fuck not?
Soldier’s half up his ass when a feeling of dizziness washes over him. He totters a bit, suddenly very glad that’s he’s smack between two rock solid bodies that are more than happy to keep him upright.
Demo catches the look on his face. “Sol,” he warns over Scout’s shoulder, and Soldier stops immediately.
“Hey,” Scout complains, his voice wispier than he would like. “I’m not-”
A glare from Demo shuts him up. It’s a good thing to, because another wave starts in his rectum and flows up through his body.
“…Fine.” He sways. “Just give me a minute.”
They do. Scout regains his breath, fighting off the waves of discomfort that are keeping the night from going on. Soldier leans in to press a kiss behind his ear, nose getting lost in the state of Scout’s damp hair. It’s getting shaggy, Scout knows, but for once Soldier doesn’t grill him on it.
The heat pouring from all sides is a scalding blessing, though what overpowers Scout’s senses is the smell. Demo smells like alcohol no matter what; it’s on his skin, in his clothes, on his tongue when he pushes it inside Scout’s mouth once again. If it’s possible to get second-hand drunk, Scout thinks Demo might make him.
Soldier’s scent is fainter, overpowered by Demo and the smell of human musk. But he still has one—a faint odor of blood and corrosion that persists no matter how far from the battlefield they are. Scout closes his eyes and takes it all in.
He drifts back to reality what must be a minute later, the vertigo falling off him as he regains his sanity. Soldier and Demo are having a soft conversation over his shoulder, one he wasn’t listening too while he was off in la-la land. He gives his shoulders a roll, just to let them know he’s back with them.
“Alright,” he says firmly. “Lets do this.”
Soldier and Demo lean back from one another, but give each other a nod. Soldier’s hands tighten around Scout’s hips and Demo supports his back, and in no time they’re ready to go all the way.
With a moan that’s practically a scream, Soldier works up and in. Scout tilts his head back, knocking against the helmet, but doesn’t mind the small jolt it gives him. The two cocks inside him are a double-pronged skewer, holding him in place while his teammates make their final adjustments. He’s his body feels so…crowded. He drops his a hand from Demo to place it over his stomach, feeling the swell of his belly now that he’s full to capacity.
“I’m like a fucking…” Scout mutters.
“Turkey!” Soldier puts in enthusiastically.
“…What?” Scout demands, turning as much as he can to look at the Soldier behind him.
“Like a turkey,” Soldier explains perfectly logically. “Stuffed for Thanksgiving.”
Scout rolls his eyes in disgust, with a mild fuck you for clarification. Demo just laughs.
They stay a second more, panting as they regain their composure. But then the need that’s been tearing at Scout hits all three of them, and they have to start to move.
Every experimental jerk sends quakes through Scout’s body, making him groan as the other mean thrust up into him. They’re wild at first, still not having found their pattern, making Scout practically squeak as he’s bounced on twofold of their cocks. His legs tighten around Demo’s middle, the irritating fabric of his socks coming just short of meeting skin. It’s the only thing Scout has on, forgotten in their hasty disrobing, now making him feel like a catholic school girl with her legs in the air.
The building rhythm finally takes hold, Soldier and Demo thrusting in time, setting out that perfect synergy they can always emulate when they fight together. Scout’s grateful for it—he can’t think of a better way to gauge how well someone fucks than ability to combo. He claws at Demo’s shirt, sinking fingers into the sweat-soaked fabric, coming away with his handwraps wetter than before.
Behind him, the straps of Soldier’s helmet swing against his skull, occasionally wrapping around to slap him in the side of the face. Soldier’s grunting methodically in Scout’s ear, their voice blurring together, becoming one being as his and Demo’s cock just seem to meld.
“Harder,” Scout demands, practically cutting off circulation as he winds his hands tighter in Demo’s shirt.
“You’re not running this show, hot pants,” Soldier grunts, to which Demo snorts. But, despite their apparent sentiment, they speed up anyway, in a way that stabs against the base of Scout’s spine in blissful agony.
It amazes Scout how they can do that—communicate effortlessly in so few words. They’ve been doing this a lot longer than he has though, and know exactly how to reach each other’s signals. Sometimes he wishes he could share in their weird, almost telepathic level of intimacy, but he figures you must have to be just the right brand of crazy to get in on that shit.
They’re pounding him hard now, Soldier grabbing his dog tags and entwining them in his fingers. It leaves little round marks across Scout’s chest every time he readjusts, staining Scout red as the pain clamors for attention. It can’t compare though, not to the wonderful hot fullness or the friction now coating Scout’s leaking dick. The ecstasy of it all makes Scout flash to how he got here—somehow managing to defy all odds and unleash a fantasy he didn’t even know he had. The tension between them all had been building unconsciously for ages, finally loosened by the barest trace of alcohol.
Now they’re indulging, Soldier sucking another hickey onto Scout’s throat, so close to breaking skin Scout groans in pleasure. A hand reaches up to grab at his face, accidentally blocking his nose and forcing him to breathe through his mouth, but he doesn’t care. It’s a substitute for his hair being pulled on, and Soldier yanks him back hard enough to hurt his cheeks.
As Demo nibbles at Scout’s throat it occurs to him that none of them are fully naked. With his socks, Demo’s shirt, and Soldier’s helmet, they’re a half-hearted excuse for prepared. But they’ve gotten this far, and any moment now feels like it’s going to be Scout’s last.
“Going to-”
It’s barely a warning, Soldier pulling harder on him in a form of possessive control, and Demo tensing in front of him.
He feels every muscle in Demo’s back as he orgasms, splattering them both with cum. Sweat is all around them, soaking wetness in sheets, in hair, in the space between their stomachs. Now the remaining two rock are holding Scout in a deadlock that still feels so damn good even as he comes down from his high.
He’s not lucid enough to tell who comes after him, but the hollers from both sides make a gorgeous symphony. In sudden emptiness, the cocks inside him go soft, mimicking the contended sighs from their owners.
Scout rolls his toes inside his socks, feeling beyond satisfied. Sure he’s still kind of wet all over, but that seems negligible in the ensuing haze. Distantly, he watches Demo lean over and deliver a kiss onto Soldier’s lips. It’s a nice sight, reminding him that he’s not alone in enjoying the experience.
“So…” Scout mutters, his nose now pressed against Demo’s clavicle. “Did I tell you or did ya, or did I tell ya?”
He can practically hear Demo roll his eye. “Aye lad. As you said that was, ‘fucking awesome’.”