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Enrapture

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There’s a painting on the wall.

Depicted are two men. Your attention is first drawn to the man standing. He is dressed in a finely pressed suit, one gloved hand resting on an ornate cane propped in front of him, the other resting on top of an equally ornate chair -- a throne, perhaps. His tawny hair is spiked up immaculately from emerald eyes framed by pristine spectacles. His lips are downturned into a frown and his chin is held high, as if he’s regarding you from down his nose. He stands ramrod straight, almost like a soldier, but his figure exudes a certain grace that belies more brains than brawn.

The other man is half shrouded in darkness, shadows from the artist’s brush strokes, but you can still make out enough features to build a decent picture. His clothing is nothing short of ornate, perhaps with a bit of flair for the dramatic, all the complex layers and different textures of his robes somehow giving off a regal feeling. His jaw is set and lined with stubble, his chin tilted upward in a clear gesture of power. Russet hair falls carelessly over his head, though it doesn’t cover the parts of his face not blanketed in shadow -- you can make out a single golden eye. The man’s hands rest on the arms of the chair, relaxed in their grip, but still looking poised for action, as if they’d seen many a battle. His posture is straight, his feet planted firmly on the ground, and his entire image exudes power.

The painting makes you nervous, but you have no means of removing it or covering it, so you elect to ignore it the best that you can. The rest of the little hotel room isn’t nearly as imposing as that work of art, so you poke around while readying yourself for bed.

While you are eternally grateful for there being a vacancy in the hotel this late in the evening, something in your mind is telling you that it was odd that this was the only available room in a reasonably priced hotel on the more popular side of town. You had decided to chalk it up to sheer luck, choosing to ignore the nerves the man at the desk was clearly trying to hide as he handed you the room’s key and the foreboding feeling you got when entering the room and that painting .

It is a place to stay for the night, something which you had desperately needed. The rain that pelts harshly against the window renews your gratitude. It’s just for tonight, anyways. This is just a small detour for the sake of not succumbing to exhaustion during your travels. You were supposed to meet your cousin today, but the late night and the unfortunate weather hadn’t allowed for it. You hope that they’ll understand.

You settle into the bed, and even though your tired muscles are begging you to relax, you can’t seem to acquiesce to their demands. You huff out a frustrated sigh. The painting is, of course, placed directly across from the bed. It seems that no matter how you turn, it’s always in your field of vision. You lay back on the pillow, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. You’ll just block it out like you’ve been doing.

Sleep does not come easily. You toss and turn in your bed, unable to free yourself from the oppressing tension in the room. Your eyes snap open and you glare at the painting, knowing it to be the source of your discomfort. You aren’t sure how something inanimate could possibly be so unsettling, but it remains so all the same. You huff and resign yourself to trying to read yourself to sleep.

You rummage around the room again until you find a book. It’s a religious text, and it doesn’t truly interest you, but the purpose it will serve remains the same. You settle back into bed and begin to read it, though you’re more skimming the pages than actually taking in the information.

You hadn’t realized that you dozed off until you jolted awake, eyes wide and adrenaline coursing through your veins for an unknown reason. Your eyes quickly take in your surroundings. The book is in your lap, flopped open to the page you assume you last read. Your belongings are all exactly where you left them, the sheets on the bed are bunched around your legs, and the rain is still going outside, perhaps even stronger than it had been before.

Everything seems to be in place. You look apprehensively at the painting, and your breath hitches.

The two men in the painting are gone.

Alarmed, you reach for the phone on the dresser next to the bed, intending to call the front desk to alert them that something’s very wrong, but cold fingers wrap around your wrist, halting your movement. An equally chilling voice chides, “Now now, that won’t be necessary.”

Your eyes widen and you instinctively lash out with the only thing in your grasp, the religious text, but that motion is stopped short as well with another hand around your wrist. Lightning flashes, briefly illuminating an awfully familiar pair of spectacles and the green eyes narrowed behind them. “That won’t be as effective as you’re hoping it will be, I’m afraid.”

You can’t help the tremble that begins in your bones as you struggle helplessly in the strange man’s grip. Your captor is undeterred, simply staring at you with that piercing gaze. Logically, you know it’s only been moments, but it feels like an eternity as unadulterated panic rises in your throat.

You open your mouth, perhaps to scream, perhaps to demand what’s going on, but suddenly the bed dips and there’s a presence at your back and a hand snakes its way around you to cover your mouth. “Don’t scream, my dear,” comes the teasing coo in your ear, “at least, not yet.”

You whimper but otherwise remain silent. Abruptly, the hand at your mouth leaves you, followed by the bed dipping back into its original position. “You’re frightened.” the person says, and you’d twist around and snark at him for stating the obvious, but the grip on your arms remains steadfast, holding your body in place, and the jade gaze you can’t seem to break away from scares you into holding your tongue.

“Allow me to introduce myself.”

With an echoing snap, your room is illuminated. The light is unnatural and still somehow gives off the feeling of darkness, even if it finally brings the intruders into full view. Their pale skin reflects a purple hue underneath the light of the fires spotted around the room, all of which are centered around the empty painting. Your fears are confirmed -- the two men before you are indeed the men that had been depicted in the painting.

The spectacled man releases your wrists, stepping back from you to join the other man. Even though you’re now free, you can’t seem to make yourself do anything -- like you’re paralyzed, maybe with fear, maybe with something else; nevertheless, you can only sit there while the wine-haired man gestures grandly to himself, golden eyes practically glowing. “My name is Ardyn Izunia, King of Solheim.” His smirk is almost sinister as he turns to the side, waving his hands towards the other man. “And this is my advisor, Ignis Scientia.”

Ignis meets your eyes again and inclines his head towards you. “A pleasure.”

You clutch your sheets closer to yourself and bring your legs in defensively. “What do you want?”

Ardyn smirks and approaches the bed. He doesn’t falter even when you shrink away from him. “We want absolute subservience. As incubi, we have a particular sort of hunger…” He invades your personal space, his breath fanning across your face as you stare back into his molten gaze fearfully. “And your soul will serve us justly.”

Your breath hitches when Ardyn trails his fingers against your jaw, a shiver passing over your spine. “You can’t. You can’t. ” you mutter under your breath, shaking your head slightly.

Ardyn chuckles lowly, leaning forward and caging you in with his body as he whispers in your ear. “Don’t worry, my dear. Rest assured, the process will be most pleasurable. It won’t be long until you’re begging for more.” He withdraws slowly, trailing his fingers down your neck and causing you to shiver again. He doesn’t bother looking over his shoulder as he begins to shift to the unoccupied side of the bed, his gaze never breaking from yours. “Ignis, if you will?”

Ignis takes a brief moment to roll his eyes at Ardyn’s antics and then he’s suddenly upon you, those same eyes flashing at you. You scoot back in a panic, but your back hits the headboard and Ignis only follows, leaving you nowhere to run. You whimper as he closes the distance between the two of you. His face is inches from yours, your breath mingling. “They say an incubus’ saliva has aphrodisiacal effects on mortals.” Ignis smirks, and your heart skips a beat. “Let’s test that, shall we?”

You open your mouth to protest, but you can’t get a sound out before Ignis shoots forward and kisses you. His tongue slides between your parted lips to dance with your own, and immediately you feel it, like fireworks, a sudden inferno settled in your belly -- Ignis is right. You’re burning up. You clench your thighs, trying to stave off the wave of lust and the incredibly empty feeling you have, but you have little success. It’s too hot, it’s too hot, and you feel so empty, so empty .

Ignis pulls away, perhaps to assess the results of his actions in your flushed face and blown pupils, but you don’t allow him a decent chance. “S-Stop,” Your protest is soft and gravelly, but it doesn’t matter when the hands that you press against his chest to push him away are pulling him closer and you’re kissing him again and another wave of lust rolls over you.

Your tongue moves with his against your will -- your entire body moves against his against your will. The lust is so incredible, so incredibly overwhelming, and you are absolutely drowning in it. The part of your mind that still wants to fight is getting smaller and smaller the longer Ignis kisses you.

They want to kill me and take my soul.

But it feels so nice.

I can’t let it end like this.

But it feels so amazing.

Fight back, (Y/N)!

But it’s so much easier to give in, isn’t it?

Ignis breaks away briefly to tug your shirt over your head. Your confusion as to when he’d moved the sheets enough to reach your shirt’s hem dissipates when he presses his lips to yours again. His hands come to rest on your waist, and you realize with another jolt of heat that his hands are bare -- when did he take off his gloves?

Ignis pulls you closer. You squirm in his arms, moaning into the kiss. His touch only ignites more flames across your skin and makes the fire already inside you burn brighter. It’s deadly and it’s addicting. You want it to stop and you can’t get enough of it.

I can’t let them do this! My soul--

What’s a soul, anyways? Who needs one?

I don’t want this. I don’t want this!

But you feel so empty. They can fill you so nicely.

They’re daemons, they’ll just kill me.

But what a wonderful death it will be.

I don’t want this.

You don’t?

A strangled cry locks itself between your lips and Ignis’ when he trails his fingers over your slick entrance, and when did he get your pants off? He chuckles against you, and you moan into his mouth when he presses his fingers to your clit, rubbing it teasingly. Your hips buck against him of their own volition, desperate for the pleasure. Maybe that will make the burning madness inside you cease.

Ignis pulls away and you gasp for air, clutching him tightly to you as he moves to nibble your earlobe. “You’re already so wet for me, yet you still resist… How much longer will you be capable of that, little morsel?” He slides two fingers into you and curls them quickly. Your back arches and you moan loudly in immediate response. Ignis chuckles. “Yes, sing for me…”

He begins to trail kisses down your neck, pausing briefly to bite down on your pulse point just as he curls his fingers inside you again. You squirm and buck against him, his name almost instinctively falling from your lips over and over again like some kind of tainted prayer despite your best efforts at keeping silent.

Another hand grazes your cheek as Ignis’ lips travel down your collarbone and chest to suckle on your nipples. Your head is tilted up slightly, and then you’re met with Ardyn’s absolutely sinful gaze. He leans close to you and you can’t even bring yourself to move away, paralyzed by pleasure as you are. Ardyn quirks his lip and cocks his head to the side when you breathe out Ignis’ name again, his russet locks falling across his cheeks artfully. “Moaning the name of another while looking me directly in the eye…” He clicks his tongue at you, shaking his head and leaning close enough that his lips ghost over yours. “Naughty, naughty girl…”

Ardyn kisses you, and a sound entirely beyond your control leaves your throat as the burning inside you becomes even more intense. Ardyn’s kiss is much more demanding, his hands cupping your face far from tenderly and then moving to tangle in your hair to direct you where he needs you to be. You’re almost distracted enough by the sheer intensity of it to forget about Ignis -- somehow, he must sense this, because the teeth biting into the inside of your thigh and the swiftly following licks of meaningless apology seem to be more attention-seeking than not.

You feel Ignis’ breath all too close to your core and you whimper into Ardyn’s mouth, squirming and struggling weakly underneath their hands. Ardyn only seems to take great pleasure in this, as his kiss somehow gets more fervent. Ignis pays your meager resistance absolutely no mind, closing his lips on your clit and swirling his tongue around it.

Fuck.

Your orgasm is instantaneous. Ardyn swallows your cries when Ignis doesn’t let up despite you now weakly kicking your legs to try and get him away, away before you lose your mind to this.

Ah, but my dear, you already have.

Ardyn releases your lips then and you gasp for air again, your hands leaving Ignis’ hair (when did they get there?) to push at Ardyn’s chest. At best, your resistance is entirely ineffective, and Ardyn only chuckles and grazes his fingers over your cheek. “Your fight only makes it that much sweeter to take your soul.” He tweaks your nipple and tugs on your hair to tilt your head back further just as Ignis slips his tongue inside you and begins working you towards your second peak. “Keep resisting, dear. It will be all the more delectable when you give in.”

Ardyn presses one more quick kiss to your lips, ignoring the way you chase after him in favor of nudging his knee into Ignis. The disturbance only makes Ignis eat you out with more fervor, and you groan and writhe underneath him. Your hands again find their way into his already-mussed-up hair as he yanks you towards your climax. Your feet kick at him, but he doesn’t stop.

Ardyn frowns and reaches down. He slaps your hands out of the way and takes grip of Ignis’ hair himself, tugging harshly. Ignis doesn’t relent; his grip on your waist only tightens as he pulls you with him, keeping his lips attached to you. It takes four more yanks from Ardyn and an orgasm from you for Ignis to finally come free, and the man in question looks decidedly angry at being interrupted.

Never, ” Ignis hisses, his pupils blown to all hell and his grip on you so tight that you fear he may break your hips, “ never have I devoured one such as this one. I will not let this delicacy escape me.”

Ardyn simply tilts his head to the side and raises a brow, a small pout upon his lips. “Won’t you let me have a taste, then?”

Ignis shakes his head, but you can feel his grip on you loosening. “I’m inclined to refuse.”

Ardyn chuckles and slaps Ignis on the shoulder in a well-meaning gesture. “Let’s not follow that inclination, yes?”

“Lucky man.” Ignis replies, and then he’s moving from between your legs. His eyes are trained on yours again, but before you can even begin to cower away, Ardyn has taken up Ignis’ old position and pulled you closer to him. Ignis cups your face and leans down in time with Ardyn, a smirk upon his lips. “As for you,” Ignis begins, his thumb rubbing against your cheekbone, “let’s continue where we left off, shall we?”

Ignis’ lips meet yours just as Ardyn’s meet your clit, and the taste of yourself upon Ignis’ lips makes that inferno in your belly flare up wildly again. Even through all the overstimulation, even working towards your third orgasm of the night, even being as tired as you are, even with the stimulation actually starting to hurt, you want -- no, you need more. That little bit of fight you had leaves you just as easily as your moans do. You need more , you need this insanity underneath your skin to cease, even if it kills you.

They’ll take my soul… so what?

Somewhere between you grabbing Ignis and pulling him closer to deepen the kiss and you squeezing your thighs around Ardyn’s head, something in your brain connects and it comes to your attention that both of them are still fully dressed.

Entirely too dressed, in your opinion.

Your fingers quickly find and begin to undo the buttons on Ignis’ shirt while you drag your feet up Ardyn’s back, bringing his shirt with them. Your desire is clear -- you want them undressed, right now, and with that realization, both men let out similar sounds of satisfaction.

“There she is.” Ignis breathes out, eagerly helping you remove his clothes. With his capable fingers moving alongside yours, Ignis is naked in no time.

As Ignis continues to kiss you near senseless, Ardyn continues his work down below. He swirls his tongue around your clit and gives one firm suck that has you digging your heels into his back and crying out his name against Ignis’ lips. He chuckles and goes lower, sliding his tongue into you and thrusting it in and out. He returns to your clit and repeats his earlier actions, driving you positively mad with need. You just want to come one more time, one more time -- maybe that will be the end of you, finally. As if hearing your thoughts, Ardyn continues lapping at your clit and slides two fingers into your slick entrance, curling them and hitting that sweet spot inside you immediately. It’s not much longer before you’re clinging tightly to Ignis, screaming through another orgasm.

Yet still, that burning has not ceased.

You’re not given any time to catch your breath. You’re hoisted up from your position laying down on the bed -- by Ignis or Ardyn, you’re unsure -- and sandwiched between the two of them. Ignis, behind you, gently rubs his fingers against your nipples and trails his lips over your neck, pressing kisses and bites alike along your skin. In front, Ardyn presses teasing little kisses to your lips and laughs at the way you chase his retreating lips every time. His hands press against your thighs, keeping your legs spread wide and allowing him to merrily keep position between them.

“It’s time for the main event, my dear.” Ardyn coos, pressing another kiss to your lips.

You blink. “The main…?” You whimper softly under Ignis’ ministrations and tilt your head to allow him better access to you.

“Did you think that was all?” Ignis chastises. “We hunger for a bit more than just your soul.”

It’s then that you feel his cock pressing into your lower back, and it’s then that you realize just how hard he is. You wriggle against him, hoping to create some friction -- with the restrained groan he lets out, you know you’re successful.

“Please.” You reach behind you and wrap a hand around Ignis’ cock, slowly pumping him up and down. Your other hand settles in Ardyn’s hair, tugging him to you for another kiss.

Ignis bucks into your grip, groaning. Ardyn, however, easily pulls away, tutting at you. “Ah-ah. Patience is a virtue.” He slides off the bed and begins undressing himself.

Impatient despite Ardyn’s words, you frown and start to squirm in Ignis’ arms. At the whine you let out, Ignis growls, swatting your hand away from his dick and replacing your hand with his, the other going to your hip. “Fine,” he rumbles in your ear, aligning himself with your wet heat, “greedy little thing.”

With one hard thrust, he’s fully seated inside you, stretching you out around his thick cock, and you don’t hold back the scream of a moan when he begins pistoning into your oversensitive hole. You cry out his name on almost every single thrust, back arching incredibly at the pleasure jolting through you. Ignis bites down on your neck and you tighten around him, throwing one of your hands into his hair.

He grips your hips tightly and pulls you into his thrusts, his teeth remaining locked in your soft flesh. He rams into that sweet patch inside you over and over again, sending white across your vision. That coil is tightening inside you again, and when Ignis slides his fingers to your clit and rubs it vigorously, it snaps like twine, sending you spiraling into your fourth orgasm of the night.

It feels like a punch to the gut, the wind knocked right out of your lungs, leaving you a panting, breathless mess. Ignis doesn’t stop his thrusting even as you start to go limp in his embrace. You’re so tired, so tired , and yet…

That inferno still blazes inside of you.

Weakly, you begin rocking your hips into Ignis’ movements. “More…” you mutter softly, your head lolling back against his shoulder.

“Don’t worry.” Ardyn’s voice calls you back to attention, but you’re too tired to move. All you can do is feel his hot fingers trace your skin, feel his nails graze and scratch at your thighs. “Ignis, turn her around, will you?”

Ignis grunts and stops his thrusting. You begin to quiver, shaking your head as he begins lifting you off of his cock. You squirm, a whine leaving your lips. “N-no…”

Ignis pauses, and Ardyn chuckles. “No?” Ardyn grabs your chin and yanks your head so your gaze locks with his. He smiles patronizingly. “What is it you want, then?”

You can’t bring yourself to be upset about anything aside from the fact that Ignis isn’t moving anymore. “More,” you utter breathlessly.

Ardyn sneers, releasing your chin harshly. “Is that it, now?” His hand moves swiftly between your legs and he slides a finger into you alongside Ignis’ cock, causing the man in question to let out a strangled groan. “Is this what you want?”

Ardyn curls his finger sharply, and you reward him with a wanton moan. Upon hearing that, Ardyn chuckles darkly, a smirk coming to his face. He leans in close and pulls you into a harsh kiss, biting down on your lip and drawing blood. When he pulls away, there’s red on his tongue and his eyes are alight. “You truly are a greedy little thing.” Ardyn grabs your hips and shoves you down on Ignis’ cock. You cry out, eyes rolling back. Ignis begins to thrust into you again as Ardyn leans close to your ear, beginning to work another finger into you. “Then we’ll give the lady what she wants.”

Ardyn works in four fingers before he decides that it’s enough and moves into position, lining up and beginning to press his dick inside you. Your eyes roll up into the back of your head again and you let out a choked moan, struggling to relax enough to let Ardyn in. Ignis pumps his hips once and stills, his hands trailing over your skin as you shake under his touch. It's so tight, he's so big, too big--

Ignis licks and nibbles at your earlobe, pinching and tugging at your nipples. “Relax…” he coos softly, groaning at the feel of Ardyn’s cock against his own as the other man slides in deeper. “There you go. Yield to us like the perfect little slut you are…”

Ardyn’s hips finally meet yours, and in that single moment, you feel otherworldly. You can feel the two men throbbing inside you, feel their thickness nearly splitting you in half, feel every single twitch of their hips -- you’re in heaven… or maybe hell.

You’re so fucking full, you can barely think straight, barely breathe. You twitch, mouth hanging open, eyes gazing blankly into the darkness above you. You’re just about to wrap your mind around the feeling--

And then they start moving, and that burning, roiling, blazing fire inside you finally calms.

You scream in rapture, clinging to Ardyn and scratching your nails down his back as he and Ignis fuck you with abandon. They move relentlessly, using you as a vehicle for their pleasure, a doll for them to toy with and nothing else, and you love it.

Ardyn continually presses against that sweet spot inside you and has your eyes rolling and your breath leaving you in even shorter pants. You wrap your legs around his waist and hook your ankles together to try and pull him in deeper, deeper, even if this is all so much, too much, and you already feel so full --

“I-I’m gonna,” you choke out, moaning wantonly as their hands begin wandering again. Ardyn roughly rubs your clit with his thumb and Ignis plays with your nipples again, the both of them working together to drive you out of your mind with pleasure. “I’m gonna-- please--”

“Yes,” Ardyn moans, thrusting more insistently, “Your cries are exquisite. Sing for us, my dear.”

Ignis bites down on your neck again, garnering your attention. “You moan so sweetly. Cum for us. Perhaps we’ll keep you as a pet; you certainly serve us well.” His hips collide sharply with yours and you cry out again. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Complete subservience at the feet of your masters?”

You nod your head frantically, gasping. “Yes! Yes, p-please!” You call their names out like a chant, a breathless prayer, absolutely enraptured by their movements, completely encapsulated and never wanting it to end.

Ardyn chuckles again, his eyes flashing. “As you wish, my lady.”

He seals your lips with a kiss, his tongue immediately dancing with yours, and you collapse in on yourself in the most glorious way. You crest your peak and ride the waves, clenching down on the two men inside you as you cry out their names in euphoria.

It’s only a few more thrusts from each before they release in unison. Their teeth sink into your neck in a claiming bite as the pleasure and the burning finally begin to fade, consciousness close on their heels. Your eyes flutter and you moan weakly when you feel them pull out. You’re quickly losing the battle with your overexhausted body. You slump against Ignis and he holds you there, continuing to lap at your neck. You can’t help but think that you feel safe in his arms as you finally acquiesce to your body’s demands and fall unconscious.

The next morning, the cleaning service comes into your empty room. The man tsks at the state of your room -- sheets everywhere, and the smell -- and he’s so focused on getting everything tidied up that he does not notice the painting.

Ignis and Ardyn remain in their original positions; however, instead of Ignis’ hand resting upon the cane, it lingers in the hair of the naked woman on her knees in front of him. A studded collar sits prettily around her neck, the handle of the connected leash sitting comfortably in Ardyn’s hand. The woman’s gaze is turned down submissively, and her hands lay in her lap.

The painting is complete.