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"Ah. I see you had words you’d like to exchange with Ketheric too?" Gortash said, smiling tightly. 
"Go back to Baldur’s Gate," Ralko grunted. 
"Why don’t you accompany me?" 
"I’d only accompany you if you were stored in several different bags and pouches on my person." 
"That seems cumbersome." 
Gortash’s smile was infuriating Ralko. 
When would this fool of a man learn?
He was dressed out of his usual formal wear, preferring instead to don lighter travel clothes. He seemed to have a few bags of his own on his person. He was clearly about to head out. Ralko eyed him distrustfully as he approached, slinging his bags to the ground. 
He stepped back, just as the lord held up his hands in a peaceful gesture they both knew was a lie. 
"You know he’s planning to betray us." 
"You know I’m planning on killing you both," Ralko sniped. 
"I would never rule with the likes of Ketheric Thorm," Gortash said. "But I would rule with you." 
Ralko scoffed. 
"Is that supposed to mean something to me?"
"If this was a power play, I’d respect you more than if it was...what I think it is." 
"Then think of it as a power play," Gortash said. "And indulge me." 
He smirked, drifting towards Ketheric Thorm’s bed. 
Ralko watched him, eyes narrowed, but his interest piqued. 
"Is there where he fucks you?" the lordling asked, running his hand along the silk sheets, face twisting with distaste. "Or does he take you over that desk over there? On the floor?" 
"He’s an old man, his joints wouldn’t be able to handle it," Ralko said. 
Gortash laughed mercilessly. "Remember that time I fucked you over a barrel in Wyrm’s Rock Prison? I thought you were going to bring the whole guard down on our heads with the way you were screaming." 
"They would’ve arrested me, after all the blood I drew from you, my
Ralko said, smirking. 
Gortash sat on Thorm’s bed. 
Hand drawing circles into the sheets. 
"Thorm will have his servants clean that up," the Chosen of Bane said, nodding at the bucket of gore. "But if you’re intending on insulting him...I can think of a far more lasting impression the both of us could make..." 
Ralko thought about spitting in his face. Maybe striking him. 
Dragging him to the floor, gutting him, and fucking his innards, while his blood trickled down his throat. 
But he was well acquainted with controlling such urges, where Enver Gortash was involved. 
And just as a spark of rebellion, and whimsy, had invited him to Ketheric Thorm’s bed, it now brought him back to the same location.
But with Enver Gortash. 
Ralko pressed him into the sheets of Thorm’s bed, hands on his clothes, tearing at them impatiently. 
"Easy now, just because they’re my travel clothes, does not mean you have the right to destroy them as you please," Gortash said, but his tone was not remonstrative, only amused. He fumbled with his clothes, batting Ralko aside, then tugging at Ralko’s clothes, just as eager to have him naked. 
Ralko knew where Thorm's little jar of oil was quite well by now. But as he had done with Ketheric himself, he didn't waste much time preparing himself. When he sank on Enver Gortash's cock, the lord hissed, because he was far too tight, and while it sent electricity coursing through his blood, it also squeezed him in a painful grip, a vice not unlike Ralko's grip on his throat. But Enver didn't protest, only wheezing, as Ralko's tight hole clenched around his cock, as he began to ride him in earnest, hips rolling, his flat, muscled stomach flexing, bucking. It was as exhilarating as it was terrifying, for Gortash, at least. Feeling Ralko's slick, wet walls on his cock, as he used Enver like a toy, but being close to passing out, his lungs screaming. Just as he thought he might die, strangled under Ralko's grip, with his cock up his ass, a truly mortifying death, Ralko let go of him. 
Gortash gasped for air, but he didn't find it, not when the Bhaalspawn followed up with a sharp, hard bite on his throat. 
"You vicious little brat," the lord spat. He shoved his hands against Ralko's chest, length slipping out of the man as he threw him aside. The Chosen of Bhaal snarled, but was mollified, slightly, as Gortash immediately clambered on top instead, pushing his cock back in insistently. "I'll tolerate the worship of your god, but perhaps you forget whom I worship." 
Ralko let out a broken moan as the Chosen of Bane began fucking him much too hard, thrusting with a ferocity bordering on lethal, drawing as much blood as Ketheric, just days before. But the Bhaalspawn didn't fight him, didn't resist, just laid back and let him use his body now, prying it open and sliding inside like a knife to the throat or to the heart. He couldn't help but think of Ketheric Thorm, in Ketheric Thorm's bedroom, in his bed. Both men had a desire to ruin him. Both men enjoyed the feeling of subjugating him, of dominating him. But Ketheric Thorm only used him to distract himself, eyes seeing someone else, anyone else. A sorrowful ghost, longing for the memory of being alive. An immortal, who no longer recalled living. 
But Gortash was so very alive. So ambitious, so cruel. So vulnerable. So obsessed with inflicting his own pain back onto a world that had hurt him. 
Ralko knew how he felt. He knew that same hurt; he enjoyed inflicting it on others too. 
But to be the subject of his pain, his obsession, his need for relevance and power and destiny...
Ralko smiled, grimaced, baring his teeth as Gortash bit him back, drawing blood from his throat. 
"You'll never own me," he spat. 
"I will," Gortash promised, his fingers tightening on Ralko's hips, fingernails digging into his skin. "Even if I have to collar and cage you, and use you as my little fucking sex pet, I'll have you one day. Even if I have to pry you from Bhaal's claws myself, and murder the murder god himself. I will destroy you, if that's what it takes." 
Ralko screamed, partially in rage, and partially in ecstasy as Gortash stabbed at that special part of his insides, the place that always blinded him, a weakness that no knife could ever penetrate nearly as satisfactorily. 
Just as he did, the door creaked open. 
Gortash paused, but only for a moment, a smirk on his lips again. 
He thought about saying something, but then decided he didn't care. Ralko stirred, trying to sit up, to see who was here, but Gortash grabbed his throat, forcing him back down. 
"Stay down," he said authoritatively. "Let them see me claiming you, you little whore. It's not like you shy away from exposing yourself to others or making your proclivities well known." 
He continued stabbing at the man's insides, hoping, praying, that the person who had opened the door was...
Ketheric Thorm.
He peered at the two of them from besides the bed, eyeing them with an icy detachment. 
"I was hoping you'd both already left," the general said, voice bored. 
"We will soon," Gortash grunted, still pushing into Ralko with a personal savagery, punching the reply right out of the Bhaalspawn, replacing it with ragged, incomprehensible gasps. "I'm going to drag him behind me on a leash." 
"I'm pleased that my two allies are resolving their differences," Thorm said, voice disdainful. "I would hate for our alliance to come to an end over something so personal and juvenile." 
"Fuck you, Thorm," Ralko managed to gasp. "Acting like you're above us..." 
"I'm certainly above you at the moment," the general said, a small smile curling at the edges of his lips as he slowly, carefully approached the two of them, watching Gortash as he drove into the Chosen of Bhaal like a bull. He wasn't sure what he wanted to look at, Gortash's face, screwed up tight with exertion and excitement, or Ralko's, upside down and more desperate than it ever was with him. 
Oh yes, he understood his two conspirators better than they understood themselves. 
He stared down contemplatively at the two, fascinated by them, more intrigued than he had been in the entire time he'd known them. They had come to him with a clever proposition, a plan that he found ambitious, if foolhardy. Gortash came across as the typical specimen of his class, a weaselly politician, with grand plans far above his station. Ralko he found a little more unusual, unique, a Bhaalspawn with more finesse and wisdom than others of his kind. He had the savagery of his father, but the intelligence of someone far more diplomatic. 
And perhaps that was why Ketheric found this naive Ralko to be so interesting. 
He knew it existed, in flashes and brief instances. 
But he'd never bedded the Chosen of Bhaal before, and the naivete he was displaying was oddly charming. Petulant and endearing. 
He leaned against the bed, contemplating the younger man as he was fucked into his sheets. 
"The Chosen of Bane is awfully jealous," Ketheric said lightly. 
Gortash scoffed at him, as Ralko's face twisted up with irritation. 
"You have no claim on him," he snapped. 
"Neither do you," Ralko protested, voice shaking slightly as his prostate was grazed again, sending jolts through his spine. 
A ghost of a smile crossed the general's lips. 
"So neither of you would mind if I joined?" 
Gortash actually stopped his movements, his eyes furious, his fingers digging into Ralko's hips. 
But the Chosen of Bhaal's reaction was the most amusing. His eyes widened as he stared up at him, never before looking so vulnerable, on his back, legs splayed like the whore he was, being fucked open by Enver Gortash. And seriously considering him, his hair spread out beneath him in a tangled mess. Ralko didn't reply, not verbally. Just as he had days ago, he answered with his eyes and his body. He pushed Gortash back slightly, shifting on the bed, pushing himself up and lying back down, so that his head was hanging slightly over the edge of the bed. 
He leaned back and opened his mouth. 
Ketheric felt a spark in the long dead caverns of his heart, something like heat, almost a real emotion. Most of the time, he didn't feel like a human, much less a man. It had been too long since he'd had a life. A wife, children, a loving goddess. A kingdom to rule, and subjects who loved him and relied on him, whose lives mattered to him. He pulled himself free from his pants, knees balanced against the bed, legs close to the Bhaalspawn's head. 
How could a man resist such a shameless, wanton invitation? 
Gortash grimaced, but he didn't say anything more as he crawled further up the bed, and started fucking Ralko again, harder this time, almost as if trying to punish him, as Ketheric ran his fingers through the Bhaalspawn's hair. His grip tightened, and he pressed his cock inside his mouth. 
Slowly at first, then more insistently, as Gortash's thrusts pushed that delectable throat further onto his cock. It was a rough rhythm, sloppy in fact, as Gortash didn't seem to care about inconveniencing Ketheric, and the general didn't much care to match his pace either. 
But Ralko didn't seem to mind. Pinned between two of the Chosen, he braced himself, pushing back against Gortash's punishing thrusts, while keeping himself as still as possible for Thorm's invasion of his throat, pushing down as far as he could. It was a curious dynamic, the three of them shared. Ketheric didn't care for either of them very much, but Ralko was at least sporadically entertaining, sparingly amusing. Gortash's interest was far more obsessive, intense. He was an egomaniac, wanting something he knew he shouldn't have. Desiring a Bhaalspawn, whose own god only begrudgingly allowed the dalliance. 
But were either of them interested in the other? 
Not particularly. 
Gortash thought that he would rather Thorm not be here at all. As far as he was concerned, Ralko was his, to claim and possess and hold tightly within his hand, until he shattered, splitting his skin and drawing his blood. As for Ketheric, he didn't care much for Gortash either. His presence was only tolerated because the situation itself was of passing interest. In the end, he would kill them, the same as he had killed himself, long ago, pledging himself to Myrkul. But what else did he have to do, in this house of misery, this haunt of corruption? 
He was no longer the man he used to be. If this was a shadow of a man, then at least it danced. Still moved. Still breathed, and huffed, and panted, as his cock was enveloped by something warm, slick, accepting. 
Ketheric came first. He couldn't help it, and frankly, he wasn't even trying that hard to last longer. Ralko's teeth had briefly grazed the head of his cock as it thrusted back in, and he was reminded of two days before, when Ralko had bit off a portion of his cock. Painful, in a way, but hardly a dealbreaker for him. After all, he had lost his soul. His entire life. A body part was nothing, even one as sensitive, and once beloved, as his cock. He came, and his spend spurted down the Bhaalspawn's throat. He thought about it, sliding down his neck, into his stomach. The seed of Myrkul, tainting the seed of Bhaal. A smile flickered on his lips as he pulled out, carefully pulling himself back into his pants, casually walking away, as though the two on his bed did not exist. 
As soon as he was gone, Gortash swapped positions, forcing Ralko onto his stomach, so that he could pull him up by the hips and press his hand down between his shoulder blades. 
How typical. The Chosen of Bane, demanding submission, supplication. 
The Bhaalspawn's noises were stifled as his face was pressed into the sheets. 
Gortash's emotions were predictable. Ketheric Thorm almost laughed as he thought about their triviality, their juvenile obsession. He doubted Gortash knew how pitiful they were. A Bhaalspawn was not made to be loved, or even cherished as a valued pet. He was a rabid dog, destined only to consume the hands of those who tried to pet it, put a leash around its neck. 
But still. If fucking him like a dog gave him hope, held their alliance together...then by all means, bark, Lord Enver Gortash, Chosen of Bane. 
His right hand slapped at the back of Ralko's thighs, punishing and playful, before his fingers pulled at the skin of his buttocks, prying his hole looser, wider, as he fucked into it. 
The Chosen of Bhaal came as soon as he pressed one of those fingers into him, alongside his cock, his head thrashing to the side, releasing a high-pitched, keening sound that echoed off the far corners of his bedroom, for all above and below to hear, perhaps. Gortash, it seemed, had greater stamina. 
But not too much. 
He came soon after, giving one last powerful thrust, dragging out another scream, this one far more subdued, withdrawn, even tired, collapsing halfway into more of a whimper. 
Gortash bent over the man's back for a moment, his chest heaving, face flushed red with exertion. 
He pressed a small kiss into the Chosen of Bhaal's lower back, before rolling off him, completely spent. 
None of them talked to one another for the rest of the night. 
Ketheric just sat at his desk, quietly ignoring the other two. 
Gortash lay on his side, not quite touching Ralko; no one could tell if he was asleep or awake, just that he was alive, and still breathing. 
And Ralko spent most of the night praying, his hands tightly clasped together, mouth moving, words only occasionally slipping out, harried and agitated and slightly afraid. 
They didn't say a word to one another. They just stayed there, together, never touching again, not talking, but no one leaving either.
And none of them would ever admit why.
Ketheric Thorm didn't see them leave Moonrise Towers. 
He just knew they left at separate times, Gortash gone a little earlier in the morning, before Ketheric's meeting with his commanders, Ralko gone somewhere during the meeting, missing as soon as he got back.