It was a minor inconvenience—or stroke of luck, rather—that Night Stalker forgot their sleeping supplies behind a brook so many miles away in the forest. No matter; the Doom Bringer’s body was large and warm enough for both Balanar and Slark to find adequate respite. The duo slept, huddling close to the demon’s massive frame—Slark nestled between his legs, by his groin, while Balanar took shelter laying curled up by Lucifer’s shoulder, that strong arm wrapping around him while they slept.
It happened to be a large splash that woke Slark from his reverie, just after sunrise. The Nightcrawler sighed and shifted a bit in his position, rubbing back against the demon’s soft, warm flesh. This certainly wasn’t a position he wanted to give up…perhaps a few more minutes here amidst Doom’s musk and sweat wouldn’t hurt. A few minutes later, as his deepwater eyes adjusted to the bright morning sun, he made out what caused the splash: Balanar was bathing in the stream in front of them, wiping and washing his body in the lazy current.
“Well, this is a nice way to start the day, innit?” he asked, knowing Doom was still asleep. He smiled and licked his toothy lips, admiring the Night Stalker’s powerful form as he rubbed down his thighs and chest, the smooth, cobalt skin glistening in the sunlight.
“I thought you’d be sleeping a while longer, Slark. I wouldn’t have gotten up this morning and stripped, otherwise,” Balanar said, jerking Slark out of his voyeurism. Slark blushed and averted his gaze, but Balanar winked and turned around, continuing on as if nothing happened. When Slark snuck another peek, the Night Stalker was bending over, presumably to wash his hooves of mud and leaves. It was probably unnecessary for him to raise his tail so high, though…
Balanar drew out his bathing as long as he could, attempting to make sure the Slitheen behind him saw as much of his body as possible. After ten minutes of faking washing himself, he glanced over his shoulder. The Nightcrawler was still huddled against Doom, only idly staring at him. What? Is this body not enough for him, anymore? Normally Slark would be pouncing on his backside by now. This wouldn’t do, especially when he put effort into his seduction; it was almost a personal insult. He wasn’t even stroking himself while watching!
“I’m not doing this for my own sake, you know,” Balanar said—which Slark knew very well was a lie—as he stomped back onto the grass, towards where Lucifer was slumped against the tree. To his frustration, Slark closed his eyes and wiggled further back into the crevice between Doom’s hefty sack and upper thigh.
“Sorry mate, but it’s really nice here. And damp,” he added, his tongue flicking out to taste a bit of the sweaty skin surrounding him. “You’d understand if you’d just try it.”
Balanar huffed in a show of disgust, but Slark noticed his eyes sneaking glances at the rest of Doom’s hulking form. It must be a pride thing. A dirty little thief like himself didn’t mind enjoying Lucifer’s body and giving it the worship it deserved, but Balanar was a proud demon.
“There’s more than enough for him to share,” Slark taunted, giving the sack beside him a slow lick. “You won’t regret giving in.”
Balanar stood still for a moment, fist clenched. He wasn’t a little beggar like Slark, who didn’t have any dignity to lose…but that was an enticing offer. Lucifer would hold it over his head for millennia, that he once bowed and joined the religion of the demon’s body. Then again, bowing to the Lord of all Hells did have its perks. A shaky step forward. Then another. Slark snickered as the Night Stalker made his way forward, knowing the treat he was in for.
He stopped near where he had lain for the night, twisted and awkwardly spread on Doom’s forearm, using his left pec as a cushion for his head. He never could rest well during the night, his usual prime hunting hour. Perhaps that’s why he was immune to Lucifer’s scent and muscular beauty then. Silently cursing his weakness in the sun, he felt his thoughts grow hazy as that intense musk wafted around him. That amazing earthy scent, and those gorgeous, powerful pecs—no, he wasn’t stronger, he was oblivious before. Now he was in a proper state of mind, and could perceive just how much his arrogance had denied him.
The shakiness and uncertainty in his movements were gone by the time he knelt down, his face mere inches from the greatest source of that musk around Lucifer’s upper body—his armpit. The air was thick with that scent, heavy with heat and still with stench. As his face moved closer, more of that musk assaulted his senses until finally restraint gave way to desire, and he buried his face into that dank pit.
I was foolish before, for not bowing to this body sooner, he thought, shivers coursing down his spine as his tongue splayed out from his maw to slather around that pit. The taste was as pungent as the musk, and every droplet of sweat he collected was another surge of elation. His arms reached out, gripping Lucifer’s large biceps to force himself further in. Even those muscles beneath his talons felt amazing, the sheer power radiating from them putting his own body to shame. Strangely, he was not jealous or resentful, as his kind usually was of those above themselves. No, this was admiration. How dominating his master was… Wait. That’s not right, Balanar thought, some inner portion of him still struggling to resist these urges, resist surrendering, submitting…but primal desire won out, and he abandoned any pretense of self-worth as he grinded his body against Doom’s arm, his face firmly rubbing into that pit. He was going to be marked with this scent now, and that thought, instead of disgusting him, was oddly arousing.
So absorbed was he in his newfound appreciation of Lucifer that he didn’t notice the Nightcrawler creeping closer to him. Slark had been eyeing Balanar since he walked past; seeing another join him in his submission to Lucifer’s little cult made him feel both satisfied, and hornier. He gazed on the Night Stalker enjoying the Doom Bringer’s armpit enviously, though he knew he could get into Doom’s other one if he so desired. It was Balanar’s ass shaking and wiggling as he slurped that kept his attention. What hadn’t interested him in the river was now irresistible. In a single leap, he closed the gap between them and shoved his face into that blue ass. Balanar was absent of his own musk since he washed up, but he was still sweaty, and the earthy scent wafting from Doom more than made up for it.
Night Stalker grunted as he felt his ass get invaded—any other time, he’d deliver Slark a stern kick to the groin, but at the moment his submissive nature made him raise his tail to invite further probing. Slark acquiesced, letting his tongue roll out to lick up and down Balanar’s crack, before pushing against his asshole.
“Fuck, you should have made me do this sooner,” Balanar said, grinding his ass back into Slark’s face. “What else do you do with his body?”
“Whatever I tell him to,” Lucifer replied, causing both Balanar and Slark to jump; until this, they presumed the Doom Bringer to be fast asleep.
“Oh! Lucifer, I…” the Night Stalker’s face turned a deep shade of purple as he looked at Lucifer’s face from his view inside his armpit.
“Heh, as my other acolyte knows, I quite enjoy waking up to being serviced. I think you’ve spent enough time in there now,” he said, grinning and moving his hand to push Slark away and give Balanar’s ass a hard spank, “but since you’ve finally accepted me as your liege, I’ll reward you with something better.” With a heavy groan, Doom rolled over, resting his arms on the raised mound of dirt surrounding the tree while he raised his tail. “Now, for your first assignment, I’m going to put you to work. And as for you, little fish, I think your new partner should get more experience in eating ass. Why don’t you let him have at yours as well?”
Balanar, who was already getting into position to dive between Doom’s enormous cheeks, raised his own tail and slapped his rear, smiling. “An order’s an order, Slark. Get to it, before night falls again.”
Slark laughed and scampered up Doom’s back, more than ready to continue his exploration of Night Stalker. “‘Suppose it is,” he said, before grabbing both blue cheeks and using his tongue to tease Balanar’s pucker.
A moan escaped Lucifer’s mouth as Balanar dove in, breathing deep the thick, corrupting musk. His hands fondled and squeezed the cheeks while he rubbed Doom’s ass with his body, taking care to make sure he collected as much of that delicious scent and sweat on himself as possible. Mouth fully unhinged, his tongue licked and tasted every inch it could. Slark certainly seemed to be having fun behind him, and the waves of pleasure assaulting both sides of his body were nearly overwhelming.
“Mmm, I’m glad you finally came to your…senses, Balanar,” Doom said, snickering. He had his eye on the Night Stalker for some time, but waiting for his musk and body to do its dirty work was much more fun than force.
Balanar was aware that something was not right, that he wasn’t thinking clearly. But he didn’t care. Somehow the notion that Lucifer was manipulating his thoughts made him lust for him more, and this pleasure, this body, was worth anything. His talons dug into those fat cheeks, pressing them firmly against his face. Oh, he never wanted to leave here. Taking a moment to enjoy his bliss, he noticed Doom’s asshole, and an intense want to pleasure the Doom Bringer took hold. He pressed forward, his tongue not bothering to tease or coax that pucker—it slithered its way in, and the surprised groan of delight from the massive demon caused a euphoric shudder of his own. This feeling, coupled with Slark’s ministrations from behind, were too much for him to contain; with a moan, he came, splattering Doom’s sack and taint with his cum.
Slark was paying little attention to the show going on in front of him. All that mattered to him was this sweaty ass, and the disproportionate amount of pleasure he was getting from shoving his face and tongue into it. Before he knew it, his orgasm also came, and he splattered his load on the ground. “Not half-bad,” he said, panting, his head still in Balanar’s ass.
Balanar started to reply, but was cut off from a bellow from Doom. “Good work..” Lucifer slowly turned over, forcing a reluctant Balanar out of his ass. “You two are going to be put to work for a long time. Speaking of work, you’ve made a mess,” he added, pointing to his chest. It was smeared in his cum, and both Balanar and Slark, who finally pulled out of Balanar’s ass, licked their lips.
“You want that cleaned, dontcha.” Slark winked at Balanar, who was already starting to lap up Lucifer’s chest.
“How did you guess?” Lucifer replied, giving the pair a genuinely warm smile.