[COMMISSION] FAUST/DON | LIMBUS COMPANY

The world was too warm, too wet, and far, far too loud.

Faust’s breaths came in short, shuddering bursts, the air thick with heat and sweat and something muskier and earthier. Her pale skin, once pristine, now glistened with a thin sheen of humidity and…something else. Arousal. Not hers.

Don’s.

She was wedged—no, pressed—between two heaving walls of flesh. Don’s tits, massive and flushed, trapped her tiny form in a vice of soft, fever-hot pressure. Faust’s back arched instinctively as the friction increased, the steady slap of Don’s cock grinding against her stomach. Each motion left a streak of pre-cum smeared across her chest, hot and sticky and impossible to ignore.

“Rejoice!” Don practically sang above her, cheeks flushed, bangs plastered to her forehead. “For today, I, the illustrious Don Quixote, shall consecrate this invention with your most sacred service!”

“Don…” Faust managed, her voice barely audible beneath the rolling moan that thundered from Don’s throat. “You are—nh—completely unhinged.”

Her only answer was a shuddering groan. Don’s grip tightened, palms squeezing her breasts together harder. The shaft nestled between them throbbed—the veins visibly pulsing, the crown twitching with need, so engorged it almost brushed Don’s collarbone. And there, smushed against that monstrous thing, Faust squirmed—her body sliding in rhythm with every pump of Don’s chest.

It was no wonder she had such an arrogance about it. If anyone was packing the sort of girth that they could literally tittyfuck themselves with, it was something to be proud of. And in a way, the same thing was being done to Faust at that moment too, albeit on a scale that made it less like having her tits fucked, and more like having her whole body fucked. 

Every inch of her vision was Don. Everything she could hear, smell, taste, feel, was her. She was almost dazed by it, to the point where she couldn’t even clearly remember how or why she had ended up here in the first place. 

How she had ended up so small.

Needless to say, it was overwhelming. Her arms pinned. Her thighs soaked. Her face smearing up along the underside of that dripping cock with each motion.

She could feel it twitching against her ribs. Every beat of Don’s heart was palpable through it.

“Do you feel that, Faust?” Don rasped, her voice deeper now, feral with lust. “Thy dainty frame, so defenseless, wrapped around my lance of justice…!”

“Your cock, Don,” Faust gritted, face now smeared with more slick than sweat. “It’s your cock, call it what it is—ah!”

A thrust. Not violent—purposeful. Don’s chest pumped forward with a sudden motion, sliding the thick, pre-lubed shaft so hard between her breasts that Faust felt her back bend slightly around it. Her own cunt throbbed involuntarily, soaked and neglected, legs twitching in the damp air.

Don laughed breathlessly, eyes practically glowing with ecstasy. “Very well! I shall call it what it is! My sacred, throbbing, sin-forged cock! And thou, Lady Faust, art its humble sheath!”

She moaned the last word.

Faust tried to respond, but another pump dragged the crown of Don’s length right across her face. Her lips parted in reflex—a mistake. Her mouth filled with the taste of Don’s pre: salty, warm, heady. She gagged softly, trying to turn her head, but there was no escape. The scent, the heat, the weight of it—it was all around her.

“I am not aroused by this,” she mumbled, even though she knew deep down that it was denial. 

Don let out a shuddering laugh. “Then why dost thy thighs tremble, hmm~?”

Faust didn’t answer.

Couldn’t answer.

Her legs were trembling. Her cunt was dripping, untouched, aching. She was soaked—not just in Don’s fluids, but her own. And it only got worse when Don squeezed her breasts tighter, sandwiching Faust harder than before.

Another thrust.

Another twitch.

Another splatter of slick warmth across Faust’s stomach and breasts.

“You’re close,” Faust whispered, barely audible.

Don only moaned in response, rolling her hips, sliding her cock up and down between her tits with faster, needier strokes. Each pump dragged the slick head across Faust’s body, now gliding easily over the soaked canvas of her chest and torso, smearing warmth across her skin in long, heavy lines.

“Goddess above…” Don panted. “You feel…perfect.”

Her rhythm grew erratic. Her moans louder. Her grip even tighter.

Faust braced herself.

The cock between them jumped—once, twice—then jerked violently as Don’s cry echoed through the room. Her entire body arched, and with a roar of bliss—

Don came.

Thick, steaming ropes of seed erupted from her cock, the first jet arcing over Faust’s tiny frame and landing across Don’s chin and collarbone. The next splashed directly onto Faust’s chest, heavy and wet, covering her from throat to thighs. She gasped as the heat hit her, a wave of cum cascading down her stomach like molten silk.

Don didn’t stop. Her shaft throbbed again and again, pumping more of her release between her tits, over Faust’s limbs, across her face, until the tiny woman was left drenched—slick, panting, blinking through strands of white that clung to her hair and lashes.

Don collapsed back with a sigh, her chest still rising and falling.

Faust laid there, face-down against her cock, breathing in shallow gasps. Her whole body was limp against the rigid, rubbery, heated surface of it, her arms and legs hanging weakly over the sides. 

She could have just ground her intohe sheets like ‘normal’, but no. She had to make sure she squeezed the life out of her with her cleavage too, didn’t she? It left her wearier than she could remember being in quite some time. 

“…I hate you,” she muttered, eyes closed, face serene.

Don giggled sleepily, still drunk on the afterglow. “And yet…thou serveth me so well…”

Faust twitched, then slowly rolled to her side, dragging a hand across her cum-soaked tiny face.

“This is a violation of every ethical research code.”

Don only smiled, dazed and content. “Thou lookest divine.”