Beast Gacha System: All Mine-Chapter 106: Tangled **

"It’s... a bit tight..." Arkai grunted, adjusting his hips.

"I know," Oathran hissed back, his voice strained. "I can feel the shape of my own cocks through your cock. You don’t have to tell me."

Eastiel watched from his vantage point, stroking himself with a slow rhythm. Yes, the sight of the two hot powerful men fumbling, rearranging limbs and angles was its own kind of aphrodisiac. It made him painfully hard, his cock weeping a clear string of precum. Yes, he also had lamented his life.

And yet, in this moment, he wouldn’t have traded this view for anything else.

"Turn her sideways," Eastiel said, his voice surprisingly steady despite his own arousal. "Make her legs go into a full split. She’s more flexible than she looks. She performs the Iudex Memoria ceremonial dance every spring. Her hips can take it."

Arkai and Oathran paused, considering. "Hmmm..."

"Lay down, Arkai," Oathran ordered.

The moment the wolf settled onto his back on the furs, everything clicked into place. Oathran, still buried in Cecilia, pulled one of her boneless legs high over his shoulder, and hooked the other under his own thigh, spreading her wide.

Arkai found himself perfectly positioned beneath them, a thrilling shock running through him as he realized he could indeed fit in the tight space between her taint and the twin lengths of the dragon.

"Brother..." Arkai breathed out, a slow grin spreading as he settled into the new, intimate friction. "Your cocks feel... good against mine."

Oathran turned his head, glaring over his shoulder with slitted, glowing eyes. "Vulgar beast—"

"Just admit you like it," the northern king grinned.

"Would I have asked you to put your cock between mine if I didn’t?" Oathran sneered. "But no flirting. That’s a line."

"Aaaahhh... Brother..." Arkai mock-moaned in response.

"How are you two entirely different men when we’re doing this and when we’re not...?" the dragon mumbled.

Arkai smirked up at him. "I learned from the best. You—"

THRUST!

Oathran drove forward, reclaiming his rhythm, and the movement forced Arkai’s cock to slide firmly along the crease between Oathran’s, in grinding hot pressure.

"Aaaaahhh—" Arkai’s moan this time was real, ripped from his chest.

"...uuhng! Mmm...? Mmmmhhh ahhh...?" Cecilia stirred fully back to awareness, the new, complex sensations dragging her from her blissed-out haze. What... what was that feeling?

THRUST! THRUST! THRUST! THRUST!

Oathran resumed a punishing pace, but something was... different. His cocks weren’t hitting that deepest, soul-scorching spot. Something was angling them, creating a an incomplete penetration. Something was stopping him from bottoming out.

Dazed, she looked down.

And saw another, thick cock thrusting in a parallel rhythm along the inside of her thigh, its head glistening just beside where Oathran was buried.

She’d know that cock anywhere.

"Arkai...?"

Then, the full, unfiltered torrent of Sense Sharing flooded her brain.

The feeling of being inside. Not in her, but in between. The hot, slick friction of cocks on cock. The shared heat, the masculine groan vibrating through two bodies into her own.

"Aaaaaaaa... aaaaahhhh... aaaaa—" She protested, helplessly shuddered, crying as her body convulsed on the furs. Overdose, sensory short-circuit—how could this feel more taboo than uncle-baby-daddy play they were doing?

THRUST! THRUST! THRUST! THRUST!

Her spine arched, every nerve ending firing at once as she witnessed and felt through shared sensation, the hidden, thrusting union of her two husbands happening through her.

THRUST! THRUST! THRUST! THRUST!

Ahhh, the feedback loop. Every time Oathran drove himself into her, it trapped Arkai to grind between them. Every time Arkai thrust upwards, his own friction against Oathran, created a secondary tilt that angled through the dragon’s cocks straight into her core.

"Aaahhh—Cece... if you move your waist like that..." Arkai protested at her involuntary squirm. "Fuck, I’m can’t last much lo—"

Cecilia’s entire body felt hot. Her nerve endings were firing, melting, fusing into a screaming overload. The world was red, toasted behind her eyelids. "YOU TWO—" she wailed. "Not even putting everything in at once would be this dirty!"

She buried her flaming face in her palms.

Oathran’s dark chuckle vibrated through her. "Not liking how your husbands are having a bit of fun with each other?" he taunted. "Why can’t we rub cocks together? All the cocks here are yours, Sainte—"

"DON’T CALL ME A HOLY WOMAN WITH THREE COCKS IN AND AROUND MY PUSSY!"

THRUST—

"AAAAAHHH!"

SQUIRT!

A hot, gushing torrent erupted from her, soaking them all. At the exact same moment, with a choked, guttural groan, Arkai’s own precum splurted up, painting Oathran’s lower abdomen in thick, pearly stripes that mingled with her fluids.

"That was... close..." Arkai groaned, closing his eyes in relief.

Cecilia’s body went utterly limp, boneless. But Oathran didn’t stop. He grasped her waist, his fingers, turning into long, elegant black claws, digging in, and—

THRUST! THRUST! THRUST! THRUST!

Arkai’s eyes snapped open. "Brother!"

"Mm—ha—ah—ah—ah—" her moans were involuntary, pathetic little puffs of air forced from her lungs with each impact.

Desperately searching for sanity, she turned her bleary gaze to the one person not physically participating in this blasphemy. Her eyes found Eastiel.

And she saw something that stole the last shred of breath from her lungs.

Eastiel was watching, dazed, rapt. His eyes were glazed, pupils blown wide, locked on the tangled mess of cocks and cunts at her center.

Both of his hands were wrapped around his own painfully hard cock. One was a tight fist clamped at the base, veins standing out. The other was frantically palming the slick, leaking tip in fast, circular motions. His breathing was a ragged, open-mouthed pant. A thin line of blood traced from one of his nostrils down to his chin.

"Cecilia..."

Cecilia’s body, already roasted a deep, shameful red, flushed an even darker crimson. This was the Eastiel she’d known for years. The sharp-tongued friend. The respected, if frustrating, critic. The golden prince. And here he was, naked, nose bleeding, violently jerking off to the sight of her cunt being desecrated by two other men.

Ahhh... the final pillar of her old world crumbled... gone... destroyed.

But she couldn’t look away.

That thick cock, textured but never sharp, barbs that had always delivered the most overstimulating pleasure... it was right there. In his hands. She watched, transfixed, as his big palm squeezed and twisted the shaft, the purplish-red head swollen to a glossy peak, oozing a clear, slick stringy liquid. It looked so stiff, so hard, and yet... so obscenely juicy.

So appetizing.

If only... if only I had it in my mou—

No. She cut the thought off. Eastiel severed the connection himself. He’d drawn a line in the sand. Today, he’d made his choice. He just wanted to watch.

Look at that face. The face of the Golden Lion King, usually composed, arrogant, or full of passion... but now... dazed, eyes hungry, pupils swallowing the gold. A jaw clenched so tight the muscle corded in his neck. A thin trail of blood, stark against his desert tanned skin...

"Cecilia..." he whispered. "Are you... feeling good—?"

THRUST! THRUST! THRUST! THRUST!

Oathran’s relentless pace inside her jolted the answer from her in broken syllables. "Ah—mmm—ah—ah—yes... East... I’m feeling so... so good..."

"Let’s cum together, baby?" he pleaded. The lion, reduced to a beggar for a synchronized climax, the only participation he’d allowed himself.

"Mm-hm..." she managed, her head lolling back, a tear of bliss tracing through the sweat on her temple. "Let’s cum together... hubby..."