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mickeymTitle: And Then There Was One
Pairing: Logan/Alec/Max
Rating: NC-17
Words: ~750
Spoilers/Warnings: None I can think of.
Disclaimer: So not mine, sadly.
A/N: I fully blame![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rivers_bend and montana_harper for this. They're enablers, pure and simple. Also, this turned out to be far more…melancholy, I guess, than I'd intended. Is porn-without-angst too much to ask for? Apparently. Anyway, hope y'all enjoy :)
They never actually ask you. Max isn't quite able to leave herself that open, or vulnerable; Logan teeters on the edge of saying the words, but unable to get past the brutal awkwardness.
So, no asking. Which means you offer.
No, I don't mind. Anything to help out a couple friends. Really, it's okay.
You're not really being altruistic. Max is one seriously fine chick, and Logan isn't exactly hard on the eyes. You like sex, and you like both of them, and everyone ends up a winner, right?
Except--not.
Because the way Max writhes beneath you, when you push her thighs up and open so you can eat her out, it's not for you. Not really. It's you between her thighs, drowning in heat and wet; spit and come smeared over your face and her taste heavy on your tongue, but it's his name she cries out when you work your tongue over her clit, and into her; when she arches her back and comes and comes and comes.
Logan bites the back of your neck, teeth skimming over your barcode, his breathing rough and heavy in your ear and against your skin. Gooseflesh erupts everywhere he touches, everywhere the words land, moist and wanting and hurting.
Kiss her for me. Let her taste herself…
Max kisses like she fucks, sharp and quick with lots of nips. If she had claws instead of fingernails, and fangs instead of teeth, your skin would be shredded. But she laps at your face: chin, cheeks, mouth, smearing her juices. Behind you, against you, Logan shudders and whines low in his throat.
You slide into her, sheathing yourself in wet heat that feels like a dream. Logan gives you a minute, just a minute, then presses against you. Into you. Stretching muscle and tissue, filling you. You groan, shudder out a breath and try to relax; beneath you Max gasps as each press forward from Logan pushes you deeper inside her.
You want to kiss Logan, too, but kissing him is how this starts, not how it finishes. Instead you tilt your head back, shivering when he mouths at the cords of your neck; when he laps at the beads of sweat gathering along your hairline. You lean forward to mirror his actions on Max; she tastes salty-sweet, musky and earthy and so alive.
Need to fuck you…fuck her. Need to move, Alec.
Each word is a grunt; not quite pain, more than pleasure. You hear them, feel them, each one rumbling down through you. Logan fucks like there won't be another time; single-minded, intense, this is his sole focus right now. Every stroke into you hurts but doesn't, sensation blossoming from too much to not enough and God, you want more. Want it all.
Max stares up at you, through you, past you; all you want is one look at you. You want her eyes on yours, just for a minute. You want Logan's mouth against you whispering your name. Just once.
You come when Max tightens around you, spasms of white-hot pleasure catching you, holding you, owning you. Logan cries out, a sound somewhere between a growl and a sob, and Max wriggles beneath you as Logan drives hard and fast into the both of you.
He tenses up just before coming, and you hold your breath with each pulse inside you; that little bit of liquid heat something you get that you don't have to -- can't -- share. For one brief, selfish moment, you're glad.
The three of you are frozen for a moment, hunger briefly appeased but not sated. Behind you, in front of you, the weight of their stares drags at you. You heard the whispered words called out in the throes of orgasm: Max, God, Max and …Logan….
Max moves first, shoving at you, at Logan, muttering, can't breathe, get off.
It hurts when Logan pulls out, moves away. Not so much a physical pain, though there is the sting of that, but a disconnect you feel bone deep.
She's gone almost instantly, one hesitant caress -- leather gloves always in place -- to Logan's cheek and only the barest of glances at you before she scrambles up off the mattress and dashes into the bathroom. Logan moves a little slower, gives you a look you've never been able to decipher, but in the end he goes, too, and you're left alone.
After all, everyone got what they wanted, right?
~fin~
Pairing: Logan/Alec/Max
Rating: NC-17
Words: ~750
Spoilers/Warnings: None I can think of.
Disclaimer: So not mine, sadly.
A/N: I fully blame
rivers_bend and montana_harper for this. They're enablers, pure and simple. Also, this turned out to be far more…melancholy, I guess, than I'd intended. Is porn-without-angst too much to ask for? Apparently. Anyway, hope y'all enjoy :)They never actually ask you. Max isn't quite able to leave herself that open, or vulnerable; Logan teeters on the edge of saying the words, but unable to get past the brutal awkwardness.
So, no asking. Which means you offer.
No, I don't mind. Anything to help out a couple friends. Really, it's okay.
You're not really being altruistic. Max is one seriously fine chick, and Logan isn't exactly hard on the eyes. You like sex, and you like both of them, and everyone ends up a winner, right?
Except--not.
Because the way Max writhes beneath you, when you push her thighs up and open so you can eat her out, it's not for you. Not really. It's you between her thighs, drowning in heat and wet; spit and come smeared over your face and her taste heavy on your tongue, but it's his name she cries out when you work your tongue over her clit, and into her; when she arches her back and comes and comes and comes.
Logan bites the back of your neck, teeth skimming over your barcode, his breathing rough and heavy in your ear and against your skin. Gooseflesh erupts everywhere he touches, everywhere the words land, moist and wanting and hurting.
Kiss her for me. Let her taste herself…
Max kisses like she fucks, sharp and quick with lots of nips. If she had claws instead of fingernails, and fangs instead of teeth, your skin would be shredded. But she laps at your face: chin, cheeks, mouth, smearing her juices. Behind you, against you, Logan shudders and whines low in his throat.
You slide into her, sheathing yourself in wet heat that feels like a dream. Logan gives you a minute, just a minute, then presses against you. Into you. Stretching muscle and tissue, filling you. You groan, shudder out a breath and try to relax; beneath you Max gasps as each press forward from Logan pushes you deeper inside her.
You want to kiss Logan, too, but kissing him is how this starts, not how it finishes. Instead you tilt your head back, shivering when he mouths at the cords of your neck; when he laps at the beads of sweat gathering along your hairline. You lean forward to mirror his actions on Max; she tastes salty-sweet, musky and earthy and so alive.
Need to fuck you…fuck her. Need to move, Alec.
Each word is a grunt; not quite pain, more than pleasure. You hear them, feel them, each one rumbling down through you. Logan fucks like there won't be another time; single-minded, intense, this is his sole focus right now. Every stroke into you hurts but doesn't, sensation blossoming from too much to not enough and God, you want more. Want it all.
Max stares up at you, through you, past you; all you want is one look at you. You want her eyes on yours, just for a minute. You want Logan's mouth against you whispering your name. Just once.
You come when Max tightens around you, spasms of white-hot pleasure catching you, holding you, owning you. Logan cries out, a sound somewhere between a growl and a sob, and Max wriggles beneath you as Logan drives hard and fast into the both of you.
He tenses up just before coming, and you hold your breath with each pulse inside you; that little bit of liquid heat something you get that you don't have to -- can't -- share. For one brief, selfish moment, you're glad.
The three of you are frozen for a moment, hunger briefly appeased but not sated. Behind you, in front of you, the weight of their stares drags at you. You heard the whispered words called out in the throes of orgasm: Max, God, Max and …Logan….
Max moves first, shoving at you, at Logan, muttering, can't breathe, get off.
It hurts when Logan pulls out, moves away. Not so much a physical pain, though there is the sting of that, but a disconnect you feel bone deep.
She's gone almost instantly, one hesitant caress -- leather gloves always in place -- to Logan's cheek and only the barest of glances at you before she scrambles up off the mattress and dashes into the bathroom. Logan moves a little slower, gives you a look you've never been able to decipher, but in the end he goes, too, and you're left alone.
After all, everyone got what they wanted, right?
~fin~
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Date: 2008-03-02 10:57 pm (UTC)*snugs you*