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There's an overwhelming smell of tobacco and sour-scented spirits lingering in the overly humid air. As you step in, you can't help but turn your nose up. No amount of perfume could mask such a pungent scent. What exactly were you expecting from a club on the Ground?
It's a shame. You got yourself dolled up and everything; you have your best earrings and bracelets adorning your ears and arms. It's not helped by the fact that it seems to be some kind of work-reunion night at this specific club. They also seem to be letting just anyone in, given the fact there's a child with a pacifier half asleep at one of the tables. You're busy wracking your brain as to the familiarity of their uniforms, walking absentmindedly as you do, when you bump into a wall.
This is humiliating. How did you miss an entire wall? Except it's not a wall. It's just some kind of... merlot-coloured fabric with something hard behind it. You look up and find that the merlot wall is actually a man in a red shirt. A rather wide man, staring down at you with an amused expression.
His tangled blond hair hangs over his eyes, which are sharp, almost avian. It feels like they're piercing into you, and you feel increasingly small as he shamelessly sizes you up.
“Sorry, sweetheart. Did I get in your way?” He talks so condescendingly, placing his hands on his knees as he leans down to be face-to-face with you. You feel your ears burning, and you scoff a little. He only chuckles, “You don’t talk or somethin? Shame. For somethin’ so pretty, I was hoping that mouth would be some kind of useful for me.” The absolute audacity of this man… You’re willing to give credit to alcohol, seeing as his breath smells of boozy nuances and hints of oak and caramel.
You shift your weight back, leaning away as you find yourself unable to find any kind of witty reply to the filth he’s spewing. You’re saved, luckily, by another blonde who steps in from the side to push the taller man further back. “I’m so sorry about him; he’s clearly had a little too much whisky and not enough food.” He glares knowingly back at him before looking down at you.
His jaw tightens, and you can’t blame him. When you say you got all dolled up, you meant it. You were still processing both the words of the brawny blonde and also still trying to figure out the uniforms. When the older man sees you staring at the logo on his armband, he cracks a small grin. “We’re Cleaners.”
Cleaners... Cleaners?
“Wait, like, those guys who clean up those giant monsters outside of the dome?” You seem gobsmacked, but at the same time, these are two men in uniform. They probably both do great services for the Ground, keeping you safe... what can you say? Maybe you have a thing for guys in uniform.
So, you do what any sane woman would do. You cosy up to the pair, drinking with them throughout the night. You find out the older one is called Gris, and the bolder one is called Enjin. It only grows later, with a couple of what you know now to be ‘Supporters’ leaving with some of the younger Cleaners. They’re really quite an amusing group; Enjin is knee-deep in a story about the last time they were out like this, what happened, and how he dealt with it.
Gris is shaking his head, leaning down to your ear, “Trust me, when he’s not this tipsy, he’s usually much more humble.” He murmurs, and you tremble at the closeness alone, laughing a little. “I’m sure he is.” You purr.
You feel an overly large hand situate itself on your knee, glancing back over to Enjin, who’s got the sweetest pout on his face. “Hey, I was talkin’ to her.” He grumbles, and Gris lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Oh, I’m sorry. She seemed so entertained.” He’s smug, even as Enjin drags you more towards him, twisting you to face away from the other.
“What’s that s’posed to mean? ‘m I borin’ you?” His honey-coloured eyes are boring into yours, and he’s positioned your legs over one of his thighs. You can feel the muscle beneath, and one of your knees is dangerously close to his groin. You swallow, feeling the air shift just a little.
“Only a little.” Wrong answer, it seems. He just looks down at you before lifting a hand to sweep some hair along your neck back. “Yeah? What could I do to make tonight more entertainin’ for you then, huh?” The hand runs down your shoulder, slipping around you.
His eyes break away from you to look at Gris, who you feel has shifted closer. They’re having some kind of conversation that you aren’t a part of, Enjin grinning as you hear Gris huff in disapproval. “Judgin’ by this pretty little piece you’ve got on, I’ll bet you came out tonight to dance. Didn’t you, baby?” He stands, quicker than you can keep up with in your mildly altered state. He catches you by your lower back, pulling you flush against him.
Gris’ arm comes around your shoulders. “He’s right. It’d be a shame for such a dress to go to waste, y’know?” Ah. They seem to have come to a decision.
A smile breaks over your face, and you nod a little, not much for words any longer. They tug you along to the dancefloor; the soft sound of a guitar blending into drums and a piano fills your senses.
You’re sandwiched beneath both men, Enjin lifting your leg to hook around his hip as he dips you into Gris, resting your head on his shoulder. You lift a weak arm to reach back around Gris’ neck, smushed in the crowd of dancers.
The club got busy while you were talking with them, it seems. All the better for them to turn you into a puddle, apparently. Enjin rolls his hips forward, straight into your sweet, dripping cunny. Gris is whispering in low tones, right into your ear. You hadn’t expected the absolute filth coming from a man who seems so composed.
He’s promising all kinds of things, in all kinds of places, as Enjin massages at your hips, grinning down at you. The alcohol, the heat, and the feel of them touching you all over are so overwhelming. The older blonde bites at your earlobe, while the younger pushes your dress up to sneer at your panties. “Would you look at that, Gris? This sweet baby’s wearing the filthiest panties. These don’t suit you at all, you know that?”
You’re honestly surprised that security hasn’t kicked the three of you out yet or that others haven’t noticed over their own affairs. Gris leans over you to coo, “He’s right… They don’t suit you in the slightest, doll. How about we take them, just for a bit?”
You feel like you’re melting as Enjin slips them down your plump thighs, gasping as he takes a long, drawn-out sniff. He chuckles, “Fuck, that’s the stuff.” Freak. Gris steadies you from behind as Enjin closes in. They’re both staring down at you as you look up at them, straining your neck just a little.
Enjin lifts his gaze to Gris, and before you can really understand what’s happening, the taller has his lips crushed against the other’s. You feel yourself tremble a little, clinging to Enjin’s shirt, feeling Gris’ cock pressing against your back. It’s fucking filthy, the way you can see Enjin’s tongue pushing into Gris’ mouth, who just groans softly. Enjin’s clothed cock is right against your cunt, grinding into you deliciously every time he leans further into Gris. The feel of his uniform against your raw pussy was doing all kinds of things for you.
They pull away from one another, Enjin chuckling as he sees Gris’ flustered expression as he licks the older man’s spit off his lips. The younger refocuses on you, laughing when he sees your face. “Aww, did I forget about you, baby? Poor thing, it’ll be okay. Let me make it up to you, alright?”
Enjin carries you to a bathroom, locking the door behind the three of you, and you begin to wonder how he expected to make it up to you, exactly.
It didn’t take you long to figure it out. Gris wraps his arms around your middle, leaning back against the sink. “Turn your head, doll. This is going to hurt a little, yeah? We have to keep you quiet.” How could you ignore such a polite request? Your head twists to the left.
His lips were warm and soft, dizzying you with unexpected gentleness. Your stomach dips as he squeezes you a little, inspiring you to part your lips, allowing him to slip his tongue inside, around the same time as you feel Enjin’s cock sliding over your folds.
You tense, only slightly, feeling every curve and vein as he teases himself over your sticky clit. “Fuck, look at this cunt. You’re real pretty, you know that, baby?” Your tummy sinks as your legs dangle on either side of him uselessly.
There’s no way you’re not going to get caught. You feel Enjin press into you. No amount of foreplay could’ve prepared you for the monstrous cock this man has.
The girth spreads you open, and you feel every moment of it. Gris is rubbing at your stomach soothingly, whispering comfort into your lips. You feel him splitting you open, making room for himself rather inconsiderately. He curses, resting his face against your tits as he bottoms out.
Drool trickles down your chin as his heated body presses into yours, hips bucking involuntarily, making you gasp at the sheer pain. Gris’ hands move up, cupping your tits. “Shh, shh… you’ve got it, doll. You can handle it, can’t you? Be good for the two of us?? If you can’t handle him... how are you going to handle me, sugar?” You flutter around Enjin at the praise, and he groans lowly.
“This cunt is too damn good, baby, how d’ya think ‘m gonna pull out? Fuck.” He draws his hips back, pulling back till only his tip is inside. He grins down at you darkly as you stare up at him like a deer in headlights. Gris deepens the kiss, distracting you once more, before Enjin grabs onto your ass-cheeks and pistons back in.
A hand comes over your throat, Gris, keeping you quiet as you cry out. Enjin begins to fuck you properly, muttering expletives about how goddamn sloppy you are. The walls of the bathroom do nothing to muffle the sound, that luscious slap slap slap as he fucks himself into you mercilessly.
Gris tilts you up, forcing you to watch where you’re connecting. To see how, each time he draws back, he tugs the prettiest strands of your sweetness with him. Enjin’s hands draw back from your hips, instead finding solace under your knees as he forces your legs apart.
His hips repeatedly slamming into your thighs begins a dull ache, all your senses feeling as if they’re on fire as he churns your insides into mush. You feel the stickiness from your cunny trickle down the curve of your ass, and Gris uses a free hand to reach down, pressing his fingers to your neglected hole.
“...Is this okay? I dunno if I can wait, doll. You’re just too pretty, yeah?” You can only nod stupidly, hips bucking when he presses a finger inside. It’s a strange feeling, almost ticklish, as he pushes in to his knuckle. You let out a choked sound, seeing stars at the combined feel of Enjin inside you and Gris fingering your ass.
“Goddamn, look at that pretty ass. You like taking Gris’ fingers? Fucking filthy, aren’t you, baby? Full of surprises too.” Enjin laughs a little, moving a hand to press to your clit. It’s becoming too much, the combined feelings. It’s like you were thrown in a washing machine full of neon lights and sweet feelings.
They’re both so mean, Gris finds himself overly impatient as he pushes in two, then three, and then four for good measure. It’s overwhelming in the most satiating way; they’re carnal. Feral, even, like you tapped into some long-forgotten part of their DNA. Gris lifts you a little, Enjin moving forward and spreading you open for him. You keen as you feel the older blonde begin to push into you. His fingers were an entirely different story; his cock is long and curves towards him, and Enjin exhales as they drag along one another, separated by nothing but one of your gooey fleshy walls.
You’re in fucking ecstasy; this is like nothing you’ve ever experienced. Enjin is rolling himself into you, in and out, in and out, over and over like it's some kind of ritual, basically praying into your tits for you to let him fill you up. Gris is bullying himself into your ass; with a bruising grip on your hips, his teeth are gnawing at your shoulder, just moments away from biting down to keep himself together.
It’s like a goddamn nature documentary; you feel like a small prey animal trapped between two predators trying to tear you apart. Enjin starts to make pretty little marks on your tits, tongue swirling over your perky nipples. It feels so good, his pretty lips ghosting over your tits and sucking wherever he deems appropriate. Gris has started to bite at your neck, leaving fingernail indents on your hips.
You’re going to wake up tomorrow full of pain and sore muscles. You can’t find it in you to care.
Enjin’s wide hand moves down you, starting to play with your clit again, drawing little shapes into you. Gris is becoming less merciful in his thrusts, practically dragging you down onto his dick. The two of them are pushing into you so passionately it’s as if they’re trying to merge with your sweet body.
It feels like a bucket of cold water is poured over you when you tip over the edge, with Gris growling into your ear and Enjin praising you oh-so-condescendingly.
“Yeah, yeah? Is that the spot, baby? You gonna cum on my dick?” He laughs, running his other hand into your hair and tugging at it, “You gonna make a goddamned mess of me ‘n Gris? You know you want to, know you need to.” He chuckles as you lean up weakly.
“Do you need something, baby? A little push, just to get you over that edge?” You can only nod, half-conscious at this point, so dumb you can barely process his words. You coo as he leans down, pressing his whisky-strong lips to yours, running his tongue over your lips.
He tastes bitter, like cigarettes and booze.
Gris bites down on your shoulder, piercing skin as you fall apart, eyes squeezing shut as you pour unholy words into Enjin’s mouth, and as your cunt squeezes around him. He keels over a little, groaning as he unloads inside your saccharine cunt. Gris only grunts, thrusting up a couple more times before he, to your disappointment and simultaneous relief, pulls out and paints your ass.
For Cleaners, they really know how to make a mess.