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In the Ruins

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After the fourth or fifth death, you figured out something weird was going on. At first you thought they were just daydreams--vivid, morbid daydreams--but you could feel them. You felt the rush of air as you fell off a cliff, the sensation of being flattened by a boulder, the sting of a snake's venom as it sank its teeth into your heel.

But it didn't hurt. Well, it did, in some way, but it never lasted long, and you always found yourself back at the beginning, like it was just some fever dream that happened again and again. Another trip. Another fall. Another spike pit. Another bat. And more treasure, too, more shining geodes and gold doubloons and rusty old chests for you to pry open with your greedy, trembling hands.

The strangest thing of all was that there were other people in these caves, too, that they didn't just exist for you and you alone. There was that girl--she didn't say her name, but you dubbed her Spelunkette, in your head--and that sketchy, hostile loner, the Dark Spelunker. And as you wended your way through the caves, you gathered one and then the other, existing in an uneasy truce as the three of you traveled through the underground oceans and ruins.

You saw them die, too. You'd swear you did. Spelunkette crawled through one of those cramped, terrifying passages and didn't return, and the Dark Spelunker was pinned by rocks as one of his bombs went off. But they caught up to you later, inexplicably, laughing, dazed, dreamy. If you didn't know any better, you'd say they liked it.

And what kept you going, after all? The coins weren't worth much. Neither were the geodes. The diamonds, large though they were, were few and far between. You told the other two that you were searching for your father, and it surprised you that you even remembered it. Yes, that was how it had started, but it wasn't what kept you there. None of you would admit that secret thing.

But you didn't need to. It was obvious. You remember the moment when you and the Dark Spelunker waited anxiously for Spelunkette to return from an underwater excursion. She'd laughed in your faces when you suggested one of them go instead--she was by far the fastest and strongest swimmer, and all of you knew it. She boasted that she could hold her breath for five minutes.

Well, it was six minutes later that she returned. She staggered out of the water, gasping for air and clutching a litho-orb in one hand. She drew in deep, ragged breaths, coughing as she collapsed in both you and your rival's arms. She kissed you both, one and then the other. And you'd never really been attracted to her before, not like this, and you didn't really feel attracted to her now--but something pulled the three of you together, and she squirmed out of her shorts and pressed against you both. You took turns as you fucked her, and it wasn't long before you shuddered and emptied yourself into her. 

You slumped back a bit, panting and dazed, but still holding her in your arms. You remember hearing her squeal as the Dark Spelunker pushed into her, his groans low and deep. You watched them come against each other, and you didn't feel anything except a blurry, detached confusion. What was this? What was happening?

...Eventually, it was over. The three of you lay sprawled out on the cavern floor, warm and sticky, and as the haze cleared from your minds you picked yourselves up, washed off, and walked further into the maze.

None of you talked about it. But she did hold your hands a little more often, and shoot you both some embarrassed grins. You returned them, nervously, and you watched your rival's scarred face and heavy-lidded eyes, and couldn't understand what he was thinking when he stared at you.

But you got the chance to find out later, at the massive, labyrinthine entrance to the ruins. One of the paths involved an awful lot of tight spaces, and though Spelunkette loved water, she hated closed areas. So you and the Dark Spelunker volunteered to go that way, and she went another. You'd meet up later. Business as usual.

You expected snakes and bats, but what you didn't expect were the spikes. As you crawled through the corridor, with the weight of a thousand tons of stone hanging precariously over your head, you felt the whoosh of air as a sharpened spike jutted out of the ground and just barely missed your thigh. You gasped. From behind you (because there's no way your rival would trust you at his back), you heard a laugh.

Embarrassed, you kept going, slowly, carefully. There was a pressure plate ahead of you, and you kept your balance as you crawled over it--gently--just enough so the spikes protruded without piercing your clothes. They caught against your buttons, against the leather of your belt. Scraping gently against the cloth. You bowed your head, trying to ignore your burning face. 

Another laugh. Your limbs trembled.

And then you finally made it out into the next chamber, collapsing onto your back. You nearly cried from relief and humiliation and lust, and as your rival--partner--whatever he was unzipped your pants and buried his head between your thighs, you held him down, hissing out a moan.

He groaned around you, bringing his teeth together on the scratches the spikes had left in your skin. You howled, gripping his hair, and he did it again, harder, and then moved his head up and took you into his mouth, moaning as he sucked you off. 

He swallowed every drop. And as you fell back, spent, he sat up and brushed his cock against your lips, and you opened them weakly. You swallowed him, too, as much as you were able. You didn't care. It felt good. It felt right. And in the distance, you both heard the high-pitched moan of your friend, mixed with the sound of metal against stone.

It wasn't so much that you used each other. It was like the ruins used all three of you, bending you to its will, making you lose yourselves. This was your punishment and your reward, and you loved it. All of it.