Vanilla Ice is taken aback when he enters his Lord's chambers and sees doubles, but nonetheless he bows his head in his usual show of respect. He likely just saw incorrectly. His focus is often skewered by Lord Dio.
"Raise, Vanilla Ice," Dio commands. Vanilla feels a strange tugging at his heart; Dio has not used his full name since they became lovers.
His confusion must be apparent when he looks up. The man beside Dio at the window is younger and slimmer, but quite clearly related to Dio, at the least. His eyes have the same intensity as he looks Vanilla over. Almost the same hunger. He can't say they haven't had polygamous trysts, but Vanilla feels unexplained nerves set in thinking about this man in such a way. Not a fear, but an unsettling intimidation.
"You recognize him, don't you, Vanilla?" Dio asks. He sets a hand on the other's shoulder, and Vanilla is sure of it. The way he flinches is the same way that Dio — his Dio — flinches when he's touched without warning.
"He resembles you, Dio," Vanilla answers vaguely, not wanting to look like a fool.
Dio smiles a little, letting the younger one speak. His voice is not as deep, but has the same thick accent. "I am him."
"You...?" Vanilla fights the urge to point, as if such a rude gesture would help him figure things out. "You are my Lord, too?"
He nods. Dio beckons Vanilla closer, slinging an arm around his waist and pulling him to his side. Vanilla forgets his confusion momentarily, as Dio presses a kiss to his jaw, but it returns full force as he feels a second pair of hands on his hips. They're more unsure, more hesitant to touch him.
"We've been talking, Vanilla," Dio murmurs, brushing his hair from his face. The touch grounds him, brings his focus onto Dio. "We think a little ménage à trois would be fun. Would you enjoy that?"
Vanilla can feel the other Dio's hands stop, resting on his sides. He glances back at him, catching his intent stare. It's strong and there's something in it that Vanilla has never seen in his own Dio's eyes, something hopeful and eager. The vulnerability of it softens up his previous notions. He could never tell his Lord no, and would never want to, but just that look would be enough to question any disapproval.
"I can't imagine anything more enjoyable," Vanilla says, turning back to his Dio. He smiles at him, and Vanilla realizes that Lord Dio is slightly taller than the younger one.
As soon as he answers, though, a rough hand turns his head back. Dio's kiss is not as experienced, but it's the same as Lord Dio's in spirit. Vanilla allows himself to be let go of, feeling Dio's arms surround his waist instead. It feels a little off-putting to be without his love, but this man is... well, he's also Lord Dio. Just with a little less meat on his bones and a little more enthusiasm when Vanilla's hands rest on his chest.
His hair is brushed aside, and Lord Dio's mouth is on his neck, pressing kisses and half-hearted bites against it. He fed from Vanilla once, then never again, and while it makes him disappointed to not be useful to his Lord in such a way, he cannot deny the feeling of safety in knowing he won't be fed from. Vanilla loves Lord Dio, feels for him deeper than a simple four letter word can even begin to describe, but he's only human. He isn't immune to discomfort.
Neither is he immune to feeling overwhelmed. To have his Lord, or what is essentially two of him, smothering him in kisses and gradually leading him to the bed, is more than he's ever dreamed of, even in his wildest fantasies, which never did get too imaginative. Lord Dio is the extravagant one, the one who sees his past self and thinks up a threesome with his lover. Vanilla is fine by it.
Dio's hands have tugged his jacket from his belt and began to slip it off, allowing Lord Dio to do the work of tossing it on the bed. He's returned to his place behind Vanilla, pressing up against him in no time. Vanilla feels his arms around his waist, holding him flush to Lord Dio's chest as the other Dio situates himself on the bed.
The two share a look, and Vanilla is certain this man isn't just a look alike. He can tell there's an understanding between them that transcends even the one between Lord Dio and Vanilla Ice. Lord Dio kisses his jaw, and then lets him go, hands lingering on his hips for a moment longer.
"What do you want, Dio?" Vanilla asks. He can't deny that he feels heavily scrutinized under the man's gaze, but he can't say he wouldn't feel just as skeptical as him in this situation.
At his words, Dio's expression fades from hunger into something Vanilla doesn't quite recognize. It's pained, and sad, before he seems to shake his sudden mood drop in favor of confusion. Lord Dio nudges Vanilla closer.
"Praise him," he suggests quietly.
Vanilla can do that. In fact, no matter his answer, he was planning to do just that. Dio leans up on his elbows as Vanilla leans down to kiss him, sitting his knees on either side of the blonde's hips. Vanilla's hands work at unbuttoning his vest, feeling Dio's slide into his hair. Another difference between the two that also gives him insight to just how his Lord has changed; Dio's clothes are stylish and flaunt his wealth clearly, while Lord Dio's are rather modest in comparison to his pockets' depth, when he wears any at all. He's welcomed Vanilla into their chambers lounging in nothing more often than not.
Dio's scent is vaguely different, too. This close, he smells of wine and blood and roses and that unique smell that simply is Dio. Lord Dio really only smells of the latter, and blood after dinner. Vanilla has never considered him to be tame, but with Dio's hands on him, fumbling to figure out his clothing and how to get it off, he realizes Lord Dio is a good three steps down from this man.
It's exciting. Vanilla realizes that if Dio smells of blood, it means there's a possibility he will want to feed from him. Despite his inhibitions about being fed upon, he can't say he doesn't find the concept of having Dio take his blood while Lord Dio watches arousing. Maybe then he'd even want to join in. Something about the potential to make him jealous gives him new confidence, as he finally undoes all of the buttons of Dio's vest.
Dio nods when Vanilla looks to him for consent, lifting his shirt over his head, followed by his long-sleeved undershirt. He'll admit that the view of Dio in such a simple linen undershirt, unlaced at the top and exposing his chest, was a nice one. He never grew out of his handsomeness.
Vanilla murmurs this against his cheek after they kiss again, letting the tip of his nose brush Dio's jaw as he kisses his neck. He feels his hands in his hair once more, smiling against the pale skin. Dio is so enthralled with his hair. He can't be much younger than Vanilla, if at all, but he finds him utterly adorable.
The feeling of Dio's fingers combing steadily through his hair sends pleasant tingles through his scalp, making him shudder. Vanilla appreciates it. Lord Dio likes to grab and tug — not hard, but certainly firm, and it feels nice, but this feels plain erotic. Vanilla's teeth scrape against his collarbone as he groans quietly into it, resuming his kisses once he's recomposed himself.
"That's good," Vanilla encourages quietly, leaving a soft kiss on Dio's shoulder. "You're good, Dio."
Dio makes a noise, and for a second, Vanilla fears he's said the wrong thing. But when he glances up, Dio's eyes are trained on him, his expression vulnerable. Pleased. Vanilla gives him a coy smile.
"You're quiet, you know," he says. "I'd like to hear you."
He looks as though he's at a loss for words, but nods. "Of course, Vanilla Ice."
"Vanilla," he corrects, kissing his pec and glancing towards Lord Dio, who seems to be appreciating their show. "I am just as much yours as I am his."
"Vanilla," Dio repeats, stroking Vanilla's hair gently. "Rolls off the tongue."
He chuckles at the comment, pressing his tongue flat over Dio's nipple. Vanilla hears his breath hitch, happy with the way his fingers curl in his hair when he flicks it with his tongue. His hands slide from Dio's hips, up his sides, and back down. He adores the way his back arches into his touch.
"How sweet," he mumbles against his skin, trailing kisses down his abdomen.
Dio's frame is far more lithe and curved than Lord Dio, but still muscular. Maybe it contributes to Vanilla thinking he's cute. He isn't sure. He hooks his fingers into his trousers, tugging them down far enough to nip along his V-line.
"Vanilla," Lord Dio says softly. He feels Dio's hands retreat from his hair as the other man's take their place to guide Vanilla into a kiss.
His belt is undone, clinking as it hits the floor. Vanilla is coaxed into sitting upright, feeling Lord Dio's hands grip his ass. He clutches at his arm with one hand, and Dio holds his other. His heart flutters when soft lips press a kiss into the back of his hand. Truly a sweetheart. Vanilla smiles into Lord Dio's kiss, groaning when he smacks his ass. It's not so much the feeling as it is knowing Dio is surely watching.
As he expected, Vanilla feels greedy hands joining Lord Dio's, a kiss on his thigh. His leotard is pulled to the side and he groans, feeling Dio tongue his asshole. Lord Dio kisses his forehead, moving his hands to comb through Vanilla's hair. His hands cup his face, holding it up as Vanilla shuts his eyes, a dull pang of pleasure rushing through him as Dio eats him out.
Vanilla's thighs slide apart just a little more, but he isn't sure if it's a conscious effort or not. Lord Dio's mouth is back on his, stealing away any thought he could give to such a meaningless question. Dio's hands press into his hips. It's difficult to find one thing to focus on, to decide whether he wants to lean into one touch or another. Lord Dio's hand beginning to palm him through his leotard is enough for Vanilla to decide that it's impossible to choose between the two.
His arms around Lord Dio's neck are all that really keep him on his knees. His legs feel shakier the more Dio toys with him. They just about give out when he feels Dio cup his balls, Lord Dio thumbing his tip at the same time, Vanilla's hands clenching into fists in an effort not to finish right here and now.
Dio is the most merciful. He presses a final kiss to Vanilla's thigh, tugging on his hips to pull him away from Lord Dio. Interest crosses his Lord's face, watching Dio guide Vanilla's back to the pillows. It makes his heart race to have what feels like a million eyes on him, taking in his body as Dio gets his leotard off, even when it's just the three of them.
Vanilla chokes on a moan, Dio's tongue warm on his balls. It's almost too much, too sensitive, his toes curling reflexively. Lord Dio takes one of his hands, his other palm resting heavy on his chest.
Vanilla feels hot, unbearably so, arching into the fingers flicking his nipple. His free hand finds Dio's hair, curling his fingers into it, encouraging him as he takes him into his mouth. Vanilla feels greedy, basking in all this attention from his lovers, but whatever his Lord offers him, he must deserve in some way. He trusts his judgement whether he can see the reasons for it or not.
Perhaps it isn't a stretch to say he does deserve such lavish treatment. He's Lord Dio's most loyal, most devout; he gives him all he can give and more, and he will never complain. As if the thought had ever crossed his mind to begin with. Vanilla won't pretend to be too humble to enjoy the heaven that is Dio's mouth, or the way Lord Dio's hands can't seem to stay off him.
His hips want to buck so badly, but he uses what's left of his strength to keep them down. It's the most difficult thing he's had to manage in weeks; Dio sucks on his tip, every content noise he makes over Vanilla tugging his hair going straight through his cock.
He can't watch though, as much as he wants to, for Lord Dio's kiss is far more important. Vanilla feels his hand trace over his hips, eventually lifting one of his thighs up to the side of Dio's head. It's an odd move. Vanilla would guess it makes him feel suffocated — though something tells him that suffocating between his thighs is the least of Dio's concerns. He seems more enthusiastic even, the attention already overwhelmingly pleasant before.
"Think you could take us both, love?" Lord Dio asks. Vanilla swallows. His voice sounds even huskier this close to his ear.
The concept is daunting to say the least. He's vaguely aware, in the back of his jumbled mind, that Lord Dio's body isn't truly his own. There's a chance that Dio isn't as big, but it's probably not very high.
Lord Dio chuckles, seeing the concern flash across Vanilla's face, pressing kisses to his face as he reassures him he knows that he can't. It's easy to forget it, as he continues murmuring dirty talk into his ear and Dio lets him rut into his mouth hopelessly.
He feels spoiled. Even as he's coming, Lord Dio telling him how pretty he is, Dio never letting up, he's struggling once more with whether or not being so pampered is what he really has earned. His chest heaves as he comes down from his high, his leg falling against the sheets.
The men switch places; though Dio guides Vanilla into his lap, an arm around his waist as his other hand strokes his chest. Lord Dio smiles faintly.
"You look blissful, Vanilla," he teases.
"I am," Vanilla says honestly, though he feels flustered to be called out on just how disoriented he probably looks.
Dio kisses his cheek, his grip tightening. "Vanilla?" He asks. His voice is just as deep as Lord Dio's, but it's so undeniably soft and gentle in comparison. Vanilla's heart melts just hearing him say his name.
He leans his head back to his shoulder. "Mm?"
"I want you to ride me." It takes effort for Dio to assert himself, but Vanilla finds himself smiling nonetheless. He never could've imagined his Dio so... shy. it's heartwrenchingly adorable.
He wasn't wrong to assume that Dio isn't as big, but it's still a comfortable stretch as he sinks down on him. Lord Dio has opted to watch, Vanilla all too aware of him eyeing their every move. It's exciting to feel so on display. Wanted. Desired. Everything he feels when he and Lord Dio are alone, amplified.
Dio's grip on Vanilla's hips is firm as he starts to set a rhythm. Overstimulation sends shivers through his thighs, and if it weren't for Dio's strength, he isn't confident he could lift himself up for very long. It's admittedly sloppy nonetheless, the faint strain in his legs making him drop onto Dio harder than he intended, more than once. Dio appreciates it either way, if his soft moans from behind Vanilla are anything to go by.
Vanilla feels his cock twitch, senses overwhelmed with Dio's pants in his ear and Lord Dio's loud groans from in front of him. Vanilla realizes his own voice joined in at some point, barely coherent begging and chants of Dio's name.
Somewhere amidst the haze of his mind, he realizes that he's in for, at minimum, three orgasms, and his legs feel particularly weak. Lord Dio's hands replace Dio's, stronger in their hold on Vanilla's hips. As Dio's hips quickly work up to slamming into him from below, Lord Dio's kiss muffles every one of his cries.
The roughness is a stark contrast to the relatively mellow pace they'd had, but the whine in Dio's voice and angle of his hips bring Vanilla to a peak so high he couldn't care less. He clings to Lord Dio's shoulders as if his life depends on it, incoherent pleas for Dio to not stop, to never stop, falling into their already sloppy kiss. Lord Dio squeezes his hip and it's all he needs for the pressure building in his core to snap.
Vanilla's thighs give out as he comes and Lord Dio lets him drop into Dio's lap, eliciting a groan from the younger vampire and forcing a wheeze out of Vanilla. Lord Dio holds onto his arms to support him, and if it weren't for that, Vanilla is sure he would fall face first into the sheets. He lifts himself off Dio with his help, leaning back against his chest once he has.
Dio strokes Vanilla's chest and sides until he can no longer hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Lord Dio cups his face, but his eyelids feel too heavy to pay him any mind just yet. He feels tired, and his legs are growing sore. He needs a moment of rest.
"Isn't he pretty?" Lord Dio murmurs. Dio agrees, punctuating it with a kiss to Vanilla's shoulder.
He is more than content to have his face pet and to be doted on while he relaxes, feeling Dio's hands begin to massage his thighs. He feels dull arousal from the gentle touch, too blissed out to recognize the scrape of teeth on his neck before he feels the love bites along his skin. They make him perk up, drawing a sigh from his lips. He isn't sure that he really cares which of them is doing it.
"Vanilla," Lord Dio purrs, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It's an effort to open his eyes and give him his attention. He notices, chuckling. "We've fucked you good, haven't we, love?"
Vanilla nods. If there were ever a time to be shy, it isn't now, but his face warms regardless. Lord Dio can say the crudest words in the most adoring tone.
"I think I deserve my turn, now," Lord Dio continues. He runs his thumb over Vanilla's bottom lip, and he can guess what he wants rather quickly. "After all, I've been so patient."
Vanilla helps him with his belt and trousers when Lord Dio sits up on his knees. He enjoys sucking him off almost as much as properly making love, but he's a little relieved he's being given more time to recover. Lord Dio leans into his touch as he runs his hands over his lower body, grunting when Vanilla takes his tip into his mouth.
Lord Dio rests his hand on the back of his head, silent encouragement for him to take more. Normally, Vanilla would obey such a signal in a heartbeat, but he's too caught up on the way his Lord groans as he tongues his slit and sucks on his head. Admittedly, he is copying Dio's tricks, hoping they feel half as wonderful as they did to him.
The hand on his head nudges him closer, and he listens this time, a hand beginning to knead Lord Dio's balls as he takes him further. From behind him, Dio's hands start to wander, trailing over Vanilla's chest and toying with his nipples. He moans around Lord Dio, earning a deep groan and a plea for him to do it again. His nose brushes curly black hair briefly, before he leans back to catch his breath.
Dio's other hand rests on his cheek, stroking it with his thumb. "You're beautiful," he says, voice rich with a fondness that makes Vanilla smile.
He brushes Vanilla's hair back from his face as he takes him in again. Though his jaw is beginning to complain, mild discomfort has never disheartened Vanilla when it comes to Lord Dio. Giving his ass a light smack, he does his best not to gag when Lord Dio's hips buck into his mouth reflexively. It isn't the first time he has ever used him this way, but it doesn't happen often.
Vanilla makes a strangled noise as he feels Dio's fingertips trace over his cock, teasing along the veins and head. It's the closest to a whimper he thinks he's ever made in his life, and he feels his face flush. Lord Dio's fingers curl into his hair, Vanilla's pressing into his ass, as his thrusts grow more eager. The steady stream of grunts and obscenities from above him begin to slur, until Lord Dio can only pant.
It isn't difficult to break him down; for such a reserved and secretive man, Lord Dio is more physically sensitive than Vanilla would have ever guessed. Perhaps it has something to do with his body — though Vanilla likes to think the deep, rich moans of his name are entirely his doing, entirely because of the way he looks up at him.
Lord Dio pulls himself away, leaving Vanilla somewhat unsatisfied. He takes Vanilla's hands and tugs him towards his chest, as Dio slides out from behind him. He cups his face, though his hands are unsteady as he kisses him.
"You're mine," Lord Dio mumbles against his lips. "Only mine, remember?"
Vanilla feels his chest tighten with adoration, nodding slightly. "I'm yours," he promises. He keeps his voice just as low; he assumes Dio is not meant to overhear this moment, and he's fine by it.
He's never quite been so possessive over Vanilla during sex before. They've had their fun with others, but as Lord Dio takes his time feeling out every curve of Vanilla's body with his hands, and then his mouth, there's something lovingly competitive behind it.
Vanilla bites his lip when he gives him a few pumps. He's hard, but hyper sensitive from his last orgasms, and his fingers dig into Lord Dio's shoulders when he sinks down on him. He's so warm and tight — among other explicit things that he certainly rambles about, as Lord Dio begins to ride him — that he doubts he will last much longer than his lover who's already breathing heavily above him.
He realizes that going to the effort of finishing with Vanilla inside him is probably a not-very-silent, unnecessary fuck you to Dio. Vanilla feels a sense of pride wash over him, one that gives his tired hips the energy to meet Lord Dio's every move.
Their sloppy, half hearted kissing turns to Lord Dio groaning into Vanilla's neck, muttering how he is far better than Dio, how he loves Vanilla so much more, how Vanilla is so good for him. Vanilla's toes curl, the mixture of his praise and heavenly moans sending shocks down his spine. Even if he doesn't blackout, he'll surely be out of commission after this, and he is certain that's exactly what Lord Dio wants.
For him to know that Lord Dio is the only one who could ever wreck him so thoroughly.
Dio is unhappy with this, fighting for attention with a finger circling Vanilla's asshole. He can hardly handle Lord Dio around him, but the added pressure of Dio's fingers thrusting into him leaves him breathless. They've messed around with almost every single part of Vanilla's body; being penetrated while penetrating is not new. But on the horizon of his third orgasm and knowing that both are his beloved Dio, it's enough to make his body want to curl up from how good it feels.
Any hope for coherent thought is tarnished; the only things on his mind are the way Lord Dio practically slams himself down upon Vanilla now, his heavy breathing in his ear, and his repetitions of my Vanilla, my Vanilla going straight through his body.
If it weren't for most of his comrades being out, Vanilla is sure that they would hear his pathetic, desperate cry as he gets off. If it weren't for his healing capabilities, Lord Dio would likely have bruises shaped like Vanilla's hands on his back for a week. He does his best to power through until Lord Dio shudders and finishes over his stomach, his mantra finally fading out to hard pants.
A third, quieter moan from Dio makes Vanilla feel guilty for neglecting him. And if this is not merely a wild fantasy he will wake up from, if he does awake in the arms of two men, he will be sure to make it up to him.
Now, though, the only concern on his mind is the haze of cleaning up their mess well enough to nap. Lord Dio's arms bring Vanilla's back to his chest near immediately, snatching the opportunity to hug him away from his counterpart as soon as he can. Dio curls up against Vanilla's chest, leaving him sandwiched between the two men.
Vanilla's limbs feel like lead, but he strokes Dio's hair anyways. It isn't very long before he hears his soft snores and his grip on Vanilla's hip relaxes. Vanilla hears a sigh, and as Lord Dio kisses his cheek, he swears he feels a smile on his lips.