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It starts, innocently enough, as a dream about Jill.
Not so innocently, it’s half of a memory from their first time in Dhalmekia together, where they had to enter a brothel and blend in to escape the pursuit of Kupka’s men. Jill was pressed up against him in a shadowed corner, half grinding on his lap to make it look like they were meant to be there, and it had taken all of Clive’s self-restraint and common sense not to reach between her legs before they had to move on.
In the dream, he throws his caution aside and curls two fingers inside of her, swallowing her moan and licking into her mouth to muffle the others as his thumb circles her clit once, twice, three times-
Clive, she whines into his lips, her eyes squeezed shut as she clenches around his knuckles, Please, please-
He slips a third finger inside—
Yes, Ifrit rumbles, stubble scraping against his jaw, Yes, Clive.
Clive pulls his head back and it’s the Infernal Shadow sitting in his lap, open-mouthed and panting as it sinks down on his fingers. It unbuckles its trousers and he takes its cock into his other hand, gasping at the warm weight in his palm and how it throbs when he-
He snaps awake, breathless and alone in his bed with a burning tightness between his legs.
Why did Jill become Ifrit? He hasn’t thought about his Eikon aside from his failed attempts to prime, and him and Jill have been, ah, getting to know each other over the past couple of months. It’s not like there’s a reason for him to think about anyone else, his mind is always very much on Jill, but in the dream he just had…
In the dream he just had he liked that it was Ifrit sitting in his lap, submitting to him instead of the other way around. Clive has spent all of this time letting Ifrit dominate, getting angry with himself and the Eikon when it doesn’t cooperate, so it was…it was thrilling to be the one in control, to have the Fire in the palm of his hand and know that it would answer his call, that it would listen—
His hand settles on the bulge in his trousers and he sucks in a breath.
I am you, Ifrit whispers in the back of his mind, and you are me. Make me listen.
The Eikon’s warmth pools between his legs, and Clive slaps a hand over his mouth to muffle his moan.
Let me hear you, Flames lick at the back of his neck and he arches from the mattress, pushing his hips up into the heat enveloping his cock as he frees it from the confines of his clothing. Sing for me, Clive.
The hand over his mouth shoots to his groin and he whines, stroking himself in a desperate, jerking rhythm, his harsh breaths echoing in the silence of his chambers, the mattress creaking with every buck of his-
“Clive?” The door opens and Jill steps in, holding a stack of papers and a quill. “I was looking over these reports and—Oh!”
She stops in her tracks, staring at where both of his hands are wrapped around his leaking cock, and Clive would rather Ultima come and take him than have to live through these next five minutes. How the hell is he supposed to explain what he’s doing?
“Jill,” he manages through grit teeth, breathing hard, “Can you close the door?”
She doesn’t move, her eyes locked on his fists, her mouth hanging open and a flush to her cheeks that wasn’t there before. The papers hang limp in her hand, the quill dangling from her fingertips and dripping ink onto his desk.
“Jill,” he says again, nearly begging.
She blinks and slams his door shut behind herself, clicking the lock into place. Her gaze still doesn’t stray from between his legs.
“Sorry to…” she wets her lips with the tip of her tongue, “Sorry to interrupt your—”
“No, I’m sorry,” he’s quick to cover himself with his blanket, sitting up to give her his full attention and scooting to the edge of his bed, ready to stand if he needs to. “What is it that you need?”
“I, um…” she trails off, swallowing, “Nothing, nothing important really, I just…I…”
Her eyes are still zeroed in on his groin. Clive looks down at his lap and almost dies at the sight of his erection being a visible lump between his legs. He grabs a pillow to cover it, praying—
“What were you thinking about?” she asks, finally looking at his face, and what?
“What?”
Jill drops the papers and quill on his desk and repeats, “What were you thinking about?”
Clive stares at her, not knowing how to tell her that he was having a wet dream about her that became a wet dream about Ifrit, and that the Eikon was whispering in his ear for him to control it by—
“You,” he blurts against his better judgement, “At least, at first it was you.”
“Oh?” she raises an eyebrow, “Do tell.”
They’ve been very open about their past “relationships”. Jill has told him of her female companionship in the Iron Kingdom, and Clive has told her of his male companionship while serving the Empire, alongside his few times visiting brothels with his cohort. They’re no strangers to sex, but when it comes to having it with each other they’re like bumbling virgins, careful not to do anything too fast or too soon and clumsy in expressing their desires. It took weeks for Jill to express her want for Clive’s tongue between her legs, and months before he mustered the courage to ask her to bend over his desk.
“We were in that brothel in Dhalmekia,” he says, “where we had to blend in. You were on my lap, and I was…”
She steps in close, standing between his legs and staring down at him. His cock twitches beneath the pillow he’s smothered it with, coming back to life beneath her gaze.
“I was touching you,” he continues, “and then you became Ifrit, and I…wanted to keep going, but I woke up.”
Clive, Ifrit whispers, as if summoned by the sound of its name. Sing for me, Clive.
The heat returns, engulfing his groin, and a strangled moan leaves his mouth, his hips shifting and rolling up into the pillow.
“Is Ifrit doing that?” Jill asks, breathless, watching him squirm.
“Yes,” he pants, pressing the pillow harder against his cock, searching for any kind of harsher friction, “Has Shiva ever-?”
“Yes,” her eyes are once again locked between his legs, “Can…Would you like me to help?”
In answer, he tosses the pillow to the floor. In response, Jill sinks to her knees and wraps her hand around his erection.
The pleasure is immediate, white-hot as it races up his spine. His breath hitches in his throat as he rocks into her tentative hold, open-mouthed and panting as she slowly strokes his shaft.
“Founder, Clive,” she whispers, “You’re burning.”
“I know,” he whispers back. “Don’t stop.”
Jill’s eyes turn white, and frost coats her palms as she drags them along his length. Clive jolts, scrabbling for something to hold onto and ending up with his fingers tangled in her hair as he hunches, shoving his hips towards her hands.
“Fuck!” he curses over the hissing steam that rises from where they touch, “Jill-”
“Shiva has always liked Ifrit,” she says, her chest heaving as she watches him writhe, unbothered by the grip he has on her head, “I think she was waiting for him to make his move, because the things she’s saying to me, what she wants to do to the both of you…”
Shiva, Ifrit speaks the other Eikon’s name like the people of Rosaria once spoke of the Phoenix, like he’s nothing but a speck of dust in the face of her divinity. Clive has never heard the monster inside of him sound so gentle, has never heard it treat another of its kind like anything but an enemy to kill. How I’ve missed you, Shiva…
Jill’s hands move to the waistband of his trousers and she bids, her voice layered with something primordial, something that lowers the temperature in the room and sends a chill down his spine, “Take off your clothes.”
He throws his shirt across the room, kicking himself free of his trousers and underwear with her help. He reaches to help her with her clothes, his fingers brushing over the buttons of her vest before she smacks them away with a smile.
“Be patient,” she teases, slow in undoing her vest and letting it slip to the floor, doing the same with her shirt, “You don’t see me tearing your-”
Fire ignites in his veins and Clive stands, his cock bobbing in front of her mouth where she still kneels in front of his bed. He wraps a hand around his base to steady it and plants the other back in her hair, holding the crown of her head in his palm as he widens his stance, planting his feet on the floor.
“I’ve waited long enough,” Ifrit burns in his voice, glowing embers rising from his heated skin as he offers the head of his cock to her lips.
Jill doesn’t open her mouth, continuing to undress at a snail’s pace. Clive grits his teeth, squeezing himself even as Ifrit begs for him to move his fist, channeling all of its heat into his arm in an effort to spur him into action. She grins, her glowing eyes alight with mischief, and leans in as she undoes her chest bindings, her cold breath fogging over his scorching head, close enough to seal her lips around him but not committing to the act.
“Jill,” he begs.
Her bindings pool between his feet and her breasts sway as she leans back on her knees to look up at him. The leather of her boots creaks with the slow spread of her thighs, and his mouth waters at the almost see-through material of her pants in the light, how he can see the wetness of her underwear and Ifrit can smell her arousal through the layers of cloth.
Jill raises her eyebrows, asking a silent question. Clive nods.
Shiva beckons, “Come to me, Ifrit.”
Ifrit pounces, snarling as he pins her to the floor and captures her lips with his teeth. Clive grabs a handful of her breast and Jill arches, Shiva reaching around to push his ass so his cock presses into the apex of her thighs. Ifrit grinds down against her,
“Touch me,” Jill gasps, “Touch me, Clive-”
Clive unbuttons her trousers and slips his hand between her legs, sucking in a breath at how his fingers glide through her folds. Finding her swollen clit is easy, and it only makes Ifrit double down on his thrusts as he circles it, parting his lips to let Shiva’s frosted tongue inside his mouth.
In retaliation, Ifrit’s heat rushes to Clive’s fingers as he tucks two inside of her. Shiva bucks her hips and Jill moans, crystals of ice coating the floorboards around her head as he curls his knuckles and finds that spot that always makes her whine. Her wetness coats his hand as he pulls away only to push back inside of her with a rough shove of his hips, his cock rubbing against the solid weight of the back of his own hand between her legs.
“You’re dripping,” Clive whispers, “Founder, Jill, I want to-”
She takes his hand out from between her thighs and lifts it to her mouth instead, sucking Ifrit’s claws between her lips as she pushes her pants down her legs and then off entirely. Shiva’s eyes glint and more steam curls from where her tongue is wrapped around Ifrit’s knuckles, her frost stretching across the floor and climbing the walls despite how quickly it melts due to the heat rippling from his body.
Clive smears the head of his cock through Jill’s cunt, biting his lip at the wet drag his shaft over her folds.
Take her, Ifrit growls, removing his hand from her mouth to hold her waist, Make her ours, make her mine-
Flames lick across his body as ice shimmers across hers, and with a rough push Ifrit sheathes himself inside of Shiva until his hips meet hers, not giving her a second to adjust before he’s thrusting, punching his cock into her cunt like he’s trying to run her through.
Clive has never heard the choked, keening, fucked out sounds that leak from Jill’s lips, nor has ever heard the filthy sounds of their coupling so clearly. He crushes her to the floor, pinning her with all of his weight, and bites her neck to keep himself grounded as Ifrit digs his claws into Shiva’s hips, pulling her onto him every time she tries to buck away in search of better friction, relishing in how her ankles lock and tighten around his lower back.
“Mine,” he snarls in her ear, covering her mouth with his palm to muffle her sounds, “All mine, you’re-”
The smell of burning wood reaches his nose, and the floorboards beneath his knees feel decidedly brittle. Ifrit pauses for only a moment, which Clive uses to look down and see that the flames engulf his entire body, that they’re starting to burn through Shiva’s frost and the floor, leaving large, blackened scorch marks in the grain.
“Bed,” Jill gasps, picking her head up, her eyes going wide when she sees what’s made him stop, “We should move to the-”
Ifrit hooks his arms under her knees and stands, holding her close, bouncing her on his cock as he takes three steps over to the bed and slams them both down upon it, back to fucking her with a reckless abandon now that they don’t have to worry about burning a hole through the floor. The mattress squeaks and the wooden frame threatens to shatter, creaking dangerously from the force of them, and if anyone were to walk in they would get the perfect view of him mounted on top of her, his ass pistoning back and forth and her ankles shoving against it to keep him inside, the way his knees dig into the sheets to give himself leverage and how her nails scratch down his back.
“Close,” Shiva moans, exposing the column of Jill’s throat as she throws her head back, “Ifrit-”
“Shiva,” Ifrit loses his rhythm, and Clive feels himself tighten, “Shiva-”
He’s first to fall over the edge, spilling inside of her as his hips stutter, burying his moans into her neck. She grinds her clit against his pelvis once, twice, three times before her legs shake and she goes still, her mouth open wide in a silent scream.
Together, Ifrit and Shiva recede. Together, Clive and Jill catch their breath. She makes a disgruntled noise when he pulls out, her nose wrinkling, and he plants a kiss on her forehead before he crawls down her body and begins to eat her out, set on cleaning her with his tongue.
“Let me…” she sounds drunk, lethargic in how she reaches for him. “Let me clean you, too. Come up here.”
He pulls away and does as she asks, settling his legs around her head and dipping his back between hers, tasting himself on his tongue as he dips it inside of her. She tucks his cock inside of her mouth, humming as he ghosts his lips over her clit, and doesn’t protest when he starts gently rocking into her, enjoying the hazy bolts of pleasure that tingle down his spine.
She’s quick to cum again, shuddering against him, and he’s quick to follow. He licks one last strip down her slit before coming up for air, and she swirls her tongue around his head one last time before she lets him go with a cough.
He rolls off of her, his head settled on the mattress next to her legs, and she leans her forehead against his shin, resting her hand on his thigh.
“You should walk in on me more often,” Clive murmurs, pressing a kiss to her knee. His body burns with the strain of semi-priming, his mind cloudy with exhaustion and the peace that comes from a good fuck, and he really wants to turn again so he can actually hold her and kiss her on the lips but he doesn’t know if he can move without collapsing.
“You should tell me whenever Ifrit wants a go,” by the slur to Jill’s words, she’s in the same boat and halfway to sleep already, settling on her side. “Shiva and I are happy to assist.”
He chuckles at how she nuzzles into his leg, hugging it like she used to hug her teddy bear as a child, and wishes he could capture this moment with something other than his heavy eyes.
We’ll just have to do this again, he thinks, before he gives in and lets sleep claim him.