Consumed by the Maelstrom

Léon's body was a canvas of pain and pleasure, his skin a deep, rich red as Wesker and Chris continued to assault him. Despite the turmoil, Léon tried to reach down, his hand trembling as he attempted to pet the two men, to soothe and calm them. But they were lost in their pleasure, their eyes glazed over, their faces twisted in a mixture of desire and madness. Wesker's hand closed around Léon's wrist, his grip like a vice as he pinned him to the floor. Chris's eyes flicked up, his gaze locking onto Léon's, his pupils dilated with desire. For a moment, Léon thought he saw a glimmer of recognition, of acknowledgement, but it was quickly extinguished as Chris's attention returned to the task at hand. Wesker's other hand closed around Léon's thigh, his fingers digging deep into the muscle as he bent and pulled him, forcing him to take the invasion. Léon's body was stretched to the limit, his entrance raw and tender, his skin burning with a fierce, searing pain. Chris's tongue pistoned in and out, his mouth and lips slick with Léon's juices, as he gazed deep into Léon's hole. The color of the juice was a deep, rich amber, like honey, and it seemed to glow in the dim light of the ship. Chris's tongue moved in a blur of motion, his mouth making soft, slurping sounds as he sucked out the liquid. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to get his tongue deep enough, his eyes straining with the effort. That was when Wesker moved in, his tongue darting out like a snake. But it was no ordinary tongue, for Wesker had a special trick, a lengthening ability that allowed him to extend his tongue to impossible lengths. It was a skill he had developed over the years, one that he reserved for special occasions, and it was clear that he considered this to be one of them. As Wesker's tongue entered him, Léon felt a new level of sensation, a depth of pleasure and pain that he had never experienced before. The tongue was long and thick, it seemed to fill him, to stretch him, and Léon felt himself being consumed, being devoured, by the two men. And then, suddenly, Léon was cumming, his body releasing a deep, rich stream of liquid that seemed to gush out of him like a fountain. The sound was like a soft, wet squelch, and it was accompanied by a vision of pure, unadulterated bliss. Léon's body seemed to glow, his skin taking on a soft, ethereal sheen as he released himself, as he let go. Wesker and Chris didn't stop, didn't even slow down, as Léon came. They just kept going, their tongues and fingers moving in a blur of motion, their eyes fixed on Léon's body, on the prize that they sought to claim. And Léon, still lost in the maelstrom, could only lie there, his body trembling, his mind reeling, as the two men consumed him, body and soul.