It was far too hot today to be wearing armor, but also far too dangerous to take it off. That problem was one the Dragon Knight couldn’t win, so as always, he chose the safer choice, cursing the blazing sun as he walked along the riverbank. Not an ideal path to take, clinging to the river in hopes that it would run past the castle, but the Dragon Knight let slip the map to his destination many miles ago from his sweaty hands.

This meant at least a day more of trudging through the weeds lining the riverbank, a task Sir Davion was increasingly questioning his ability to do. Every step was becoming a battle between the heat and his will.


Just one more step...and another...and then…then...


The next thing Davion was aware of was a sensation of wetness on his back and thighs. Slowly, the now-evening sky came into focus, and he realized he must have fallen to the ground in the throes of heatstroke.


“Damnit,” he cursed, picking himself up with difficulty, “I can’t do this anymore. There must be someplace to rest for the night, somewhere like…” He breathed deep in relief--the forest was becoming thicker, and there was a shady grove just ahead. Sweet, sweet respite. He laughed as he trudged towards it, letting his sword and shield fall slack in his hands. A few steps further, then around the tree to the natural clearing. He dropped his sword and shield and turned the corner, ready to fall asleep where he stood.


“Oh, look who decided to join in on our debauchery. Does the noble knight have some not so noble desires this evening?”


Davion stopped and tried to blink the sweat from his eyes. That voice. He knew that voice.
“Lucifer! What are you...doing…”


        It took several seconds for the scene before him to come into focus; as it did, he became more and more disturbed. There, leaning against the largest tree, Lucifer sat, his entire body devoid of his usual armor. The massive demon was grinning at him, but all Davion could concentrate on was that body. Muscled and toned far beyond his own, and now on full display, the knight felt a sense of awe and inferiority. His eyes roamed over it, taking time to examine the demon’s bulging biceps, those sculpted pectorals, and--though he tried to resist--the demon’s enormous cock and balls. These certainly surpassed his expectations, though he had, to his shame, guessed at their size before.


        “At a loss for words?” Lucifer laughed, and brought Davion out of his spell-bound state. “Most are when they lay eyes on my full glory.” Piercing eyes looked the Dragon Knight over, noticing his heavy breaths and half-lidded eyes. This would be an easy one. “Why don’t you come lay here with my minions? Play nice, and maybe I’ll let you join them.”
        Davion was starting to get his wits back about him--or at least enough to recognize the situation he was in. Enemy. King of All Hells. And.... Minions? His preoccupation with Doom’s body had made him blind to the two heroes on either side of him. A sense of shock and disgust shook him anew; it was Slark and Night Stalker, naked, clinging to his sides and burying their faces in his armpits. The two of them seemed to be enjoying this, rubbing their faces in those dark pits, slurping at Doom’s sweat-covered skin while grinding their erect cocks against his body.


        “Whatever...vile activities you’re doing, I’m not going to be a part of them.” Davion turned around, snorting in disgust, as he often did towards the debased heroes of the Dire.


        “Still trying to hold on to your nobility? We both know you’re a very dirty knight under that armor. I can see it--your strong, powerful body bowing at my hooves, begging to join the other two in their worship of my armpits.” Lucifer licked his lips, sending a chill down Davion’s spine. “You’re hesitant now, but you’ll thank me later.” With a snap of his fingers, Slark and Night Stalker pulled out of his pits and looked at Davion, who took a hesitant step back. “Fetch him.”

        “Ah, the hunt begins. Though I think this prey will be caught quite easily,” Balanar said, wiping a mixture of sweat and drool off his face. “At least try to run for us.”


        This was a nightmare come true, to be cornered defenseless and exhausted, at the mercy of these horny heathen. I was a fool, he thought, struggling to even turn his body around, that this armor would protect me.


        As expected, a talon came down on his shoulder. “This isn’t fair. No fun chasing prey that just collapse from exhaustion. You must be so...hot under there,” the Night Stalker whispered into Davion’s ear, his tongue licking the side of his helm. “Why don’t you let me help you out of it?”


        Armor pieces were soon being torn off and tossed aside, crudely being wrenched from their places by Balanar while Davion stood there, powerless to stop him. “There. Much better. Look at all that sweat and grime. Doom was right, you are a dirty knight.” A smile--if it could be called that--formed on Balanar’s face as the knight reacted to being let free of that silver and scarlet prison.


        As determined as he was to maintain his composure and dignity, the cool breeze that blew on his hairy, sweaty chest made him lean his head back and groan. He was now stripped of all his armaments, left only with his undershirt and shorts, both soaked thoroughly with sweat. “If you think I’ll just allow you to go further--”


        Balanar cut him off, muffling him with his hand. To his disappointment, the sun still shone on the horizon, and to hunt even easy prey in the light would be tiresome. “Tell you what--I’m going to let you go right now. I won’t chase you.” He winked at Slark, who was either licking sweat or his own pre-cum off his fingertips while staring at Davian’s package. “You’ll have escaped our grasp--unless Slark catches you.”


        The Nightcrawler, who had been observing this scene cock in hand, grinned back at Balanar before setting his sights on the Dragon Knight. “Sounds good to me. I already got m’shiv out and ready,” Slark replied, giving his cock a few long strokes.


        Summoning the last of his and Slyrak’s strength, Sir Davion shook off Balanar’s grasp and charged forward, praying that he might lose the fish somewhere along the river. The evening wind felt surprisingly nice on his half naked body as he ran, and his legs were somehow still supporting him despite being as heavy as stone. Perhaps he could make it. He had to make it.


        “Gotcha!” Before Davian could react, he felt Slark pounce on his back, knocking him to the grass. “You ran a bit quicker than I thought you would. So that’s somethin’.” Cold, slimy hands passed over his arms before settling on the neckline of his shirt. “But I gotcha fair n square, so I get a little reward.” The shirt came off effortlessly, with Slark picking up the half underneath him and throwing both soaking halves into the river. “And I’ve been waiting to do this.” Davion’s shorts joined his shirt, and Slark took a moment to admire the nude warrior. The sweat from the day clung quite nicely to his furry ass, whose meaty fullness practically begged Slark to squeeze and fondle. “I can tell you’re one of those warrior types, you’ve got the muscles for it. Let’s see you from the front side…”


        Beads of sweat flew onto Slark as he flipped Davion over; he took a moment to taste one that landed on his face. Very salty. Very delicious. But that could be savored later. Right now the thing that piqued his interest was Davion himself, who had shut his eyes tight and was offering no resistance. Slowly, Slark crawled onto his chest, now feeling and smelling all that had been cooking in Davion’s armor in the time he was under the scorching sun. Their sweat and slime mixed well, and made those well-defined pectorals glide even more smoothly under his hands. The stench of those hairy armpits wafted over Slark’s nose as he moved his face mere inches from Davion’s, making his cock start to leak pre-cum on the man’s chest.


        With a roar, Davion made his move, raising his head and gathering what little remained of his energy into his breath. This was it, his last stand. To his horror, only a stream of black smoke blew out of his mouth. The fumes were quickly waved away, and Slark coughed and sputtered. To Davion’s surprise, the Nightcrawler seemed more amused than anything, chuckling as he repositioned himself on the knight’s chest.


        “Was-was that your breath of fire? Really?” At this Slark broke out in raucous laughter, magnifying the humiliation Davion was feeling. With a resigned sigh he let his head fall and closed his eyes.


        “I give up. Do what you will with me.” He didn’t want to surrender, to give himself over to Doom’s minions. His body, however, disagreed.


        “Oh, we will,” Slark said, giving the knight’s chest a long, sloppy lick before getting off. “But Lucifer is the one who decides what’ll happen to your fuzzy ass. Who knows, maybe he’ll lemme play with it later.”


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



        The sun had set over the rolling hilltops by the time the regret-laded feet of Davion returned to Lucifer’s dwelling, and the crepuscular skies did nothing to hide the unmasked knight’s shame at being made a prisoner of this war--though the Dragon Knight had the sinking suspicions that this had less to do about the Ancients, and more with whatever perverted desires the repulsive demon king had finally deigned to act on. As he approached the men’s camp, unnaturally lit by a series of floating ghoul-fires, the reclining Doom Bringer came into view. Just as enormous as he last remembered, and at least twice as sweaty, from the way his sweat glistened against his dark purple skin.


        “He’s tied up nice n’ tight,” the nightcrawler said, tugging on the vine rope that bound Davion’s hands. “And my nighttime curse will ensure no...draconic escapades,” Night Stalker added, his words coming as a whisper to the scared-stiff Davion’s ears.


        “You shall be well rewarded for your work.” Lucifer laughed, and the lights became aglow with his excitement. “Now let’s corrupt our newest accomplice. Push him in.”


        “Wait, what are--” Davion rasped and fell forward as Slark delivered a soft blow to the small of his back, forcing him to stumble straight into Lucifer’s...armpit? The demon was sneering at him, both his hands behind his head, his pit musky and reeking of burning sulfur and brimstone and all things masculine and hellish. Given how hot this day was, Davion could even feel the sweat where he knelt…


        Before he could react, the flustered Dragon Knight was manhandled by Slark and Balanar, his head forced into the dank cavern of Lucifer’s pit, face smearing into the dense jungle of hair within. So much sweat...he had to have a taste, yes… In spite of his honor, his valor, Davion was worn and beaten, and just wanted a little drink.


        Sluuuurp.


        “Little pig, like the others,” Lucifer said, chuckling and making Davion blush a beet red, though the knight seemed only encouraged on. Lucifer’s armpit was sinfully tasty, and--dare he admit it--not at all a bad place to squirm about in, so hot and large. Within minutes, the naked Dragon Knight was moaning like a whore, rubbing his entire body into Lucifer’s armpit, coating himself with the demon’s scent and pitjuice. “Finally understand?” Doom gave a grin to Slark and Balanar, who were already drooling and eyeing the demon’s free armpit. Lucifer beckoned them over with a nod of his head, before reaching down and idly fingering the moaning Davion’s hirsute asscrack. “Oh, how proud Slyrak would be…”


        Davion merely grinned in return.