After four years, Daniel thinks, they should be hitting the point where their sex life tapers off, but apparently one of the things they don't mention in the Group Marriage for Dummies Manual (a mystical beast he's actually been considering writing, if for no other reason than to amuse the wife he officially has and the husband they unofficially share) is that with three people present in a relationship, there's a much greater chance that two of the three will be up for something at any particular moment. Tonight it's him and JD. Cammie is half-drowsing; she had been almost asleep when they came to bed, after having been awake (working on the algorithms for Daniel's latest round of theorizing) for most of the past two days. She'd only stirred a little when Daniel and JD stumbled backwards into the edge of the bed, and now she's watching them through slitted eyes, lying diagonally on the bed with JD's head resting against the swell of her breasts, stroking JD's hair as Daniel kneels over him and works his way inside.
"Fuck," JD says, and the sound of it is odd; a little more desperate, a little more needy, than all the ways Daniel's used to hearing him. "Come on. Harder." His fingers clutch at Daniel's shoulder, and Daniel does his best, in the position he's in, to put more energy into his thrust. "I said harder," JD snarls, and Daniel bites his lip -- he thought he had been -- and bears down.
Above them, Cammie picks up her head, like a dog hearing some whistle human hearing can't catch, and Daniel has half a second to notice her bite her lip and look down at JD's face before looking back at Daniel. "Turn yourself on over, then, baby mine," she says, her voice thick and clotted with sleep, "an' let Daniel get a better angle."
Daniel looks up at her. Just go with it, she gestures, and he grips JD's hip and slides out. JD's rolling over before his dick is even clear, positioning himself on folded arms with his ass held in the air, and Daniel's reaching for the lube again (he had wanted a nice lazy night of making love, but he doesn't begrudge JD the time and effort; of the three of them, JD is the one with the libido cranked up to turbo-charge, and JD prefers getting fucked to doing the fucking by a factor of three to one, and, well, it's not a hardship) when he sees Cammie do something extraordinary: she pushes herself up so she's half-sitting, reaches underneath JD to pull his arms free and stretch them out in front of him, and puts her other hand on the nape of JD's neck.
Hard -- Daniel can tell -- and she circles JD's wrists with her hand and holds those down too, pushing him into the sheets like she could hope to hold him, and Daniel is frozen, watching, as JD's shoulders relax and his spine ripples and the noise he makes is pure greed. "Go on, then," she says, voice rough and tender all at once, and Daniel can't quite tell which one of them she's talking to, and he takes a deep breath, curls his hand around JD's hip, and lets go of everything he knows about how to be gentle.
It's nothing he's used to. It's nothing he ever thought he wanted. When he makes love to JD it's never timid, not the way he knows he can (still) sometimes be with Cammie, but it's never like this, this hot elemental passion that grabs him by the scruff of the neck and pulls him into the moment so fiercely, so directly. JD's hips thrust back at him, demanding, daring, test and challenge all in one.
He finds himself following the rhythms JD sets, hard and bruising, the room filled with the sound of skin striking skin and the low, soft keening sounds JD doesn't seem to be aware of making. JD keeps trying to push him, to steer and direct even though Cammie has his neck and hands pinned against the mattress, and there's just a fractional miscalibration between the rhythm Daniel sets and the one JD is pushing back against him with and Daniel finds his dick slipping free.
It disrupts the pleasure that's starting to build in him, the pleasure he's trying to give to JD, and it serves as a reminder that he still can't read JD's desires as well as he'd like to, and that makes him half-angry, half regretful. "Stop moving," he growls, swatting JD's flank, more absentmindedly than anything else -- I'm trying to do what you want here, give me a little bit of cooperation. He's not expecting JD to freeze in place. He should have -- there are things they don't do, and places they don't go, and up until this very moment he would have said that slapping JD's ass in the middle of making love would be in the demilitarized zone around the edges of the worst of JD's dark places, but he would have sworn that having anyone hold JD down the way Cammie is holding him would be anathema as well, and yet he's never seen Cammie steer wrong in her reading of JD once.
But the way JD freezes isn't half a step from freakout the way Daniel would have expected. It's the trembling, breath-held posture of someone who's waiting, and Cammie points her chin at her hands, at Daniel's hands, and Daniel puts one hand against the small of JD's back and leans.
The noise JD makes, into the pillow, sounds like sex and desperation.
Daniel feels off his stride, off his game, like he has no idea what he's doing or what he's supposed to be doing, but Cammie's eyes are strong on his, not on JD's, and she's nodding like he's doing something right. He glances down. She's moved so that she's kneeling on the bed, one of her knees over JD's wrists to hold them there, and that frees up a hand to card through his hair, gently, tugging loose the ponytail he usually wears it in and letting it spill free.
"S'all right, baby mine," Cammie says, and she's starting to sound more awake now, and that makes Daniel feel better, because if Cammie is awake, Cammie can tell him what to do. He doesn't know what cues he missed, what caused this need that he's never seen before: not once in the two years when it was him-and-Cammie and Cammie-and-JD and finally him-and-Cammie-and-JD, not once in the two years since when it's been them together as three and as one. It's been a long damn time since he's felt this out-of-place in their bed. "It's all right. Daniel's not gonna let you go, an' neither am I."
Now would be a really nice time for a hint of that telepathy that Cammie and JD still share and Daniel can only hope to hint at at the best of times, because he has no idea what JD wants. Or needs. Except the obvious, and he bears his weight down a little more firmly against JD's tailbone, and JD whimpers again and spreads his legs, pinned out against the mattress, quivering, waiting. Daniel has never seen such passivity from JD before, all of that drive and passion focused inward, listening, concentrating. Desiring.
Cammie nods again, once. Daniel closes his eyes (but not for too long, in case Cammie needs to tell him something with her gaze) and plasters himself over JD's back, holding him tightly in place. "I've got you," he says, in JD's ear, because it seems like the right thing to say, and then he snaps his hips forward and tries to remember all the ways JD likes to be fucked best.
And Daniel's a little bit tired and a little bit annoyed and suddenly nowhere near as into this as he'd like to be -- as he should be, to be navigating this minefield -- but if there's one thing he's learned in the last few years, it's that it's important to repay the care others take with you by taking care of them when they need it. If JD wants this, if JD needs some token to make him feel present and cared-for and real (a fleeting sense of rightness, like he's on the correct track), it's the least he can do. So he sets his teeth against JD's shoulder, right next to where Cammie's hand is still holding down his neck, and he bites down just hard enough for JD to feel it, not hard enough for it to bruise, and he dedicates himself to wringing every last drop of response from JD's body that he can.
It takes longer than it usually does for the physical sensations (heat, pressure, the smell of JD's skin that he's never been able to quantify or describe) to begin to overwhelm him, begin to pull him inexorably towards his own climax, and he knows JD isn't anywhere close to being able to follow. He's reaching down, intending to palm JD's dick and stroke him to climax before he reaches his own, when Cammie's hand flashes away from JD's hair and circles his bicep.
It's a warning as much as anything she could have said out loud, and he looks up at her, and she shakes her head (just a little, just enough). He breathes out, biting his lip, trying to tell her without words that if he doesn't come in the next few minutes he's going to hit the point where he can't come at all, chafed and irritated and cranky, and her face undergoes a series of contortions he can't read: weighing, considering. She bites her lip as well, and her headshake turns to a nod. Go ahead, she says, lips moving without any voice behind them, and Daniel buries his face in JD's hair and gives himself over to the sensations, wondering what (if anything) he could have done differently.
When he's done with his orgasm (and he knows it's a part of JD and Cammie's theology that there is no such thing as a bad orgasm, but this certainly doesn't even get close to the top hundred -- the top thousand --) he collapses over JD, thinking (in the part of his mind that's still trying to figure out how he can make this better for JD, how he can answer that pit of JD's need -- not so deep as a well, nor as wide as a churchdoor, but 'tis enough, 'twill serve, and he presses his lips together and tries not to fucking lose it) that if he can't make JD come, at least he can give JD this: weight and pressure and skin pressed against skin, his dick still inside of JD, softening but not slipping free, all signs. Of how much he loves JD; of how much he wants to help, even if he's not sure what JD wants, needs help with, even if there's a tiny part of him that thinks it's unfair for this to come out of nowhere without some sort of sign.
None of them are perfect; none of them are unscarred. Love means trying to figure out how to meet needs. It also means not getting upset with yourself when you fail to.
Cammie lifts her hands from JD's skin and strokes Daniel's shoulders, runs her fingers through his hair: wordless reassurance, love, communication. It's all right. He picks his head up to look at her, intending to mouth some request for help in knowing what to do next -- the days when he was jealous of Cammie knowing JD better than he does, of JD knowing Cammie better than he does, are long behind them -- when JD's head comes up too, wild and unfettered, no longer held down by Cammie's hands. He only has a split second to yank his head back before the back of JD's head collides with his nose, but he manages.
The sound JD makes is pure nonverbal need, like he's gone through speech and out the other side, and Cammie moves her hands to cradle JD's cheeks. "Shh," she says, her voice brisk and quelling. "I know, baby. I know. But you're scaring Daniel."
Daniel opens his mouth -- to say something, to protest, he doesn't know -- but Cammie shakes her head at him, quickly, and he shuts his mouth again. He watches as Cammie forces JD's head back, holding his eyes with her own, or so he assumes; he can't see JD's face, just the reflection in Cammie's strong features. "Look at me, baby," she says, low and compelling, and JD's chest heaves as he gasps for breath, and Cammie stares down whatever she finds there, still kneeling on his wrists. "You know we got you. You know we do. You just gotta tell me if you want toys or fingers, baby. That's all, an' then you can go right back to where you were."
Daniel's dick, now quiescent, finally starts to slip free, and he reaches down to hold the base of the condom before things get messy. (They don't need the latex -- they've been monogamous, if you can still call it monogamy with three instead of two, for long enough that everyone's got a clean bill of health, but it makes cleanup easier from a quickie, which this was supposed to be.) JD keens again as Daniel eases out of him, and Cammie makes a clicking sound, deep in the back of her throat. "Toys or fingers, baby," she repeats, and Daniel has been sleeping in this bed for four years, and he thinks he should probably know by now that sex doesn't only happen when two or more bodies are hard or wet, but he always seems to need the reminder.
Cammie keeps her eyes on JD's, and Daniel can't hear whatever response JD must make, but it's apparently enough for Cammie. She guides his head back down to the mattress, pressing her palm against the nape of his neck and squeezing just long enough for a shudder to go through JD's body, once. Daniel rolls to the side, coming up to his knees, and JD's body jerks again until Daniel puts his hand back on the small of JD's back and bears down. It makes JD go calm again, and Daniel scrapes his fingernails over the lines of JD's tattoos and watches Cammie as she leans over the edge of the mattress to rummage in the nightstand.
She comes up again a moment later with her hands full, tossing the results of her quest on the bed: two disposable gloves (latex-free, powder-free, bright purple), the pump-top lube. As Daniel watches, she strips her rings off her fingers, sets them carefully on the nightstand: wedding ring (thin platinum band with rounded edges, simple, elegant; its mates live on Daniel's and JD's fingers) from the left hand, engagement ring (channel-set sapphires, in platinum as well; no cold and distant diamonds for their Cammie, not with her warmth and their cost in blood) from the right. She holds out her hand to him; it takes him a second to realize what she must mean (he's always stupid after sex, even when it isn't over yet), and then he pulls off his ring and hands it to her as well.
"Told you we got you, baby," she says, trailing her hand down JD's spine, twining her fingers with Daniel's briefly when she reaches JD's tailbone. "You just lemme take care of a few things back here first." She walks down the bed on her knees, and it's been two years and more since she's been able to and Daniel still marvels at the sight. He expects her to settle between JD's splayed legs, which she does, but he's not expecting her to lean over against him, tipping her face up for a kiss.
He delivers it, finding her mouth soft and warm and loving, even if he can tell that she's still a little sleepy. She pulls back after a few minutes, and her breath is warm against his lips as she says, low enough that he doesn't think JD could probably hear her even if JD was capable of processing speech right now, "You just watch what I'm doin' for a while, baby mine. Let you drive whenever you think you're ready."
That alone is enough to tell him that she's planning something that'll be new to him, some form of consummation that isn't in their standard repertoire, and he's glad that she's there to steer. He wraps his other hand around JD's neck, where her hand had rested, and he always used to (mentally) mock JD and Cammie when one of them complained that they could hear someone thinking, and now he knows what they mean by it. For a minute he feels like he could read the thoughts flying through JD's head by feeling for the buzzing of his headbones alone.
He can feel the tension of JD's body beneath him, the way JD seems to be straining up against his touch, and he thinks of the line of JD's spine that stretches out between his two hands like the AND-gate of a digital logic circuit adding input to input, and he watches as Cammie rubs the pad of her thumb along each of the nails of her right hand, testing each one and then running her nails along her lips to confirm. She pulls on the glove. She doesn't snap the wrist at all.
"Do you nice and good, baby, don't you worry," she says, the words falling from her lips like she isn't paying a bit of attention, which (he thinks, looking at the way her brows are drawn together, the fierce concentration on her face) isn't far from the truth. "You know we're gonna take care of you. C'mon, baby, ease on up just a little so Daniel can put a pillow under you to make this better --"
It's an order, even if it's directed at JD and not at him. Daniel lifts the hand from JD's tailbone, reaches across himself to fetch the pillow as directed. (JD's pillow. He's not stupid.) JD breathes in, one quick sharp rasp, and lifts his hips enough for Daniel to get the pillow underneath them. He somehow manages it without lifting his face from where it's pressed against the sheets, and Daniel realizes that JD's arms are still stretched out in front of him, where Cammie had been kneeling across his wrists, and he sweeps his hand down the length of JD's arms to squeeze one of JD's wrists before putting both of his hands back right where they were, and JD shivers once and lies still beneath their ministrations again.
Cammie picks up the bottle of lube, keeping up the constant stream of low-voiced reassurance, and Daniel knows he used plenty of lube earlier, but she adds to it now, until JD's skin is slick and shiny. Her voice trails off, and she draws her lower lip between her teeth in concentration as she spreads the lube over her gloved hand with careful attention to detail, and it only takes half a second before Daniel takes a deep breath and weaves his own voice in where hers has faltered.
He isn't sure what to say. Maybe it doesn't matter. He goes for repeating what Cammie had started with: it's all right, we have you, we're not going to let you go, and after a minute he sees Cammie's lips quirking in barely-suppressed amusement and realizes that he's slipped sideways into French. Well. French is a pretty language. And he doesn't think JD cares about the words so much as the sound of his voice, the reassurance of sound to go with the touch and prove to him that he's not alone inside his skull. (Another flash of rightness, like he's closer to an answer, and he resolves, later, to check with Cammie, and see how close he is.)
When Cammie slides three gloved fingers inside JD (and oh God that thought makes his stomach squirm, more a mental arousal than anything physical, knowing she is where he had been not ten minutes before, and there are a list of things about his new life that he will never cease to be amazed at and this is one of them: they have taught him that jealousy is really insecurity in disguise, and when the insecurity blows away the jealousy quietly tiptoes off to follow) the sound that JD makes is like pure aching relief. His biceps tense, and he tries to bring his head and shoulders up off the bed, but his hands haven't moved from where Cammie had put them, and that tells Daniel he should keep his weight where it is, bearing down with equal force to what JD is using to push up.
JD could overpower him in an instant, even like this, if he truly wanted to. Maybe that's the point. Maybe that's why JD wants the weight of reassurance.
From where Daniel is, he can't see JD's face; JD's head is down, his arms stretched out, his face between his biceps. It's a posture of submission, his body open and receptive, his expression hidden away. Daniel curls his fingers around JD's neck; his thumb skims the line between marked and unmarked skin, feeling the jut of bone, the vertebra at the top of JD's back. JD shivers again, and Daniel puts his other hand in the center of JD's shoulderblades, covering the sentences he's still learning to read and the ones he knows he'll never decipher.
Cammie's face is a study in concentration as she slides her fingers into JD's body, holds them still within his depths, slides out again. She's kneeling between his parted thighs, sitting on her heels, her own knees splayed wide enough that Daniel can see the close-trimmed curls of her pubic hair, the barest glimpse of her labia beneath. He shifts so he can see her hand more clearly, watching how she twists her wrist with each stroke. She glances up at him and smiles a faint ghost-smile, quick with reassurance, before drawing her bottom lip between her teeth again and dropping her eyes to JD's body. She isn't watching what she's doing; she's watching the space between JD's shoulders, just over Daniel's hand, and Daniel wishes he could tell what signs and portents she's reading.
"It's all right, baby," she says, her voice rough and low, sounding nothing like herself. Bedroom voice, for the middle of the night, the middle of the nightmares. She tucks her pinky finger underneath the other three, making her fingers into a wedge, and Daniel's breath catches in unison with JD's as she thrusts inside him up to the barrier of her final knuckles, holding JD open beneath her.
The noise JD makes beneath her hands, beneath her ministrations, is naked need. Daniel can see her thumb sliding down to the curve of his perineum, coming to rest up against the point where the swell of JD's balls just begins. JD's cock is trapped between him and the pillow, but Daniel can tell that he isn't hard. It's all right, somehow, he thinks. That's not what this is about. He doesn't know what JD is getting out of this, but he can tell it's not so much about the arousal as about the sensation. The reassurance.
He runs his hand along JD's back, down to the top of JD's ass, and drags a tentative finger between those twin globes. He can feel the muscles moving to either side of him, the way JD clenches and releases against Cammie's fingers, relaxing as Cammie pulls them out and returns them, tensing against them as she sinks all the way in and holds. JD's skin is as hot as it always is, and the light coating of lube makes Daniel's finger slip downward until he bumps up against Cammie's knuckles. The surface of the glove she's wearing is slippery, too, and he can just feel the tiny tremors of her knuckles as she crooks her fingers inside JD's body.
JD responds by breathing out, his legs sliding open a fraction of an inch more, his fists clenching even as his shoulders ease. "Do it," he rasps, his voice barely intelligible, swallowed against the sheets. Cammie pulls her hand free, and JD's hips rise to follow. Daniel watches as she reaches for the bottle of lube again, using more than he's ever seen JD need before, spreading it thickly all around JD's opening before thumbing a generous dollop inside him. When she pours another pool into the palm of her hand, using her ungloved hand to coat her fingers, her knuckles, the back of her hand up to her wrist, he realizes what she's about to do.
He watches, fascinated and just a little bit aroused again, as she folds her fingers into a point again, tucking her thumb underneath with them, and rests them just against JD's entrance. Then, changing her mind, she looks up at him and picks her hand up again, showing him how she's holding her hand, demonstrating the forward motion, the way she curls and tucks her fingers into a fist around her thumb. Her gestures are swift and sure, for all that he thinks she's slowing her motions for his benefit, and he looks back up to catch her eyes, trying to put I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm willing to try in every inch of his face.
Cammie gestures with her chin for him to move so that he can see what she's doing, and he does; he has to release his grip on JD's neck to do so, and JD's head comes up as soon as Daniel's hand lifts. Cammie sits up on her haunches to reach across him, shoving his head back down with her ungloved hand, still sticky with lube. "Down," she says, firmly, and for a second Daniel can hear the echo of the commander she once was as JD's head drops again. "Showing Daniel what I'm doing. You want him to know how to do this."
Daniel licks his lips. "And I want to see," he says, and he's surprised at the sound of his own voice, aching and full. Cammie turns her head to look at him, and her eyes are dark and hungry. She doesn't smile at him. She doesn't need to.
"Wider," Cammie says, pushing JD's thighs further apart, and he complies, until he's almost resting his weight on his knees. As Daniel watches, he realizes that Cammie's timing her breaths to match JD's, which are coming slightly fast, ragged with anticipation. She circles the pads of her fingers around the edges of his entrance, and Daniel can see the muscle there contract, relax, contract again. Some tiny detail doesn't satisfy her, and she adds another bit of lube. JD's skin is glistening with it.
One breath, another, and then Cammie's fingers are right there again, and Daniel's breath catches in the back of his throat as she pushes forward with one smooth motion as they're both exhaling, until her fist is inside of JD, coming to rest just at the wristbone, holding fast. Her other hand strokes JD's thigh, gentle and soothing. JD makes a sound that's half moan, half whimper, and Cammie says, "Shhh. It's all right. I got you, baby. I got you."
Daniel lifts a hand, tracing his fingers over the curve of JD's ass, letting them come to rest against Cammie's wrist. Against JD's ass. Oh, God, she's got her entire hand inside JD's body, and it is the most starkly erotic thing Daniel has ever seen, the way he's bearing down against the touch and gasping for more.
"Look at you," Cammie says, her voice low, lulling. "Look at you, taking this for us. C'mon, baby, it's all right to reach for it. I got you, baby. Not gonna stop until you got what you need. Look at you, baby mine. So pretty. You just lie there and take it. I can fuck you all night if that's what you need."
And Daniel's always thought, privately, that so much of pillow-talk sounds ridiculous, like bad erotica or worse porn, but Cammie's words are thrown out like a lifeline for JD to cling to, and they don't sound ridiculous at all. He closes his hand around her wrist, feeling the tension there, feeling the iron control and the tiny flex-and-release as she shifts her position.
What does this feel like for JD? He can barely imagine; he's come to love the sensation of JD fucking him, of Cammie using her fingers or one of the many and varied sex toys they own, but there's always that one brief flash of panic at the initial stroke, the fear of too much too fast too thick too deep. Cammie's fist is wider than any dildo they own, wider than anything Daniel would ever think to allow inside himself. But JD pushes back against her, urging her wrist a millimeter deeper, and Daniel's whole skin feels electrified as he watches Cammie twist her hand inside of him and rock her knuckles back and forth.
"God," he says, and he can see JD's shoulders jerk at the sound of his voice, and he wonders what JD hears that he can't hear himself. "That's beautiful."
Cammie pulls her hand back without unfolding her fist, just reaching the bridge of her knuckles, and JD holds himself still and trembling, open and wanting beneath her. Then she plunges back inside, up to the wrist again, up to where Daniel's fingers are braceleting her, fierce and forceful. JD makes a noise like the unfolding of tension packed tightly and brings more of his weight onto his knees, his chest, his arms still stretched out along the length of the bed like a penitent begging to be shriven.
"So damn pretty," Cammie says, agreeing with him, encouraging JD. She twists her fist back and forth, rocking it until JD is gasping, breath with just a hint of voice behind it. "Come on, baby," she says. "You just eat that right up, don't you. Fuck you as long as you need."
This time she pulls her hand all the way free, then slides it back, still fisted, pushing with just enough force for JD's body to welcome her inside. It looks and feels like a punch, untamed, ungentled, but Daniel can feel the control trembling in her wristbones, the way she's reading JD's responses from his skin through the thin membrane of the glove she's wearing. Both of them have such beautiful hands, strong and sure, unafraid to use them.
The pace she sets is fierce and demanding, no hint of compromise, coaxing every last drop of response from JD's body that she can. It's just irregular enough that Daniel can't catch what rhythm she's using: four strokes, pause, an instant where she pulls her hand out and then slides back in, another stroke and hold. Daniel slides his hand down hers as she slides free, feels the slick heat of JD's skin, feels the way the muscles of JD's entrance clench and release on empty air before Cammie's hand returns to its resting place.
The room smells like sex, like lust, like the smell of Cammie's arousal. Daniel realizes, looking at her, that her nipples are hard and crinkled and her chest is flushed. It isn't surprising. He's half-hard himself, despite having just come, just from the sounds JD's making and the way the two of them are moving together.
He traces the edge of where Cammie's wrist meets JD's ass, feeling the flutter of movement there, and suddenly he wants: wants to feel JD falling to pieces beneath his hands, wants to feel JD's heat and JD's strength given over to him, wants to feel what Cammie's feeling and see if he can discern what cues she's reading to tell her when to dive deeper and when to retreat. "I --" he says, and hearing himself, he doesn't quite know what follows that syllable. "Show me," he finally settles on. "Show me how."
Cammie pauses with her fist nestled inside JD's ass, searching his face for something. She must find it, because she picks the other glove off the bed with her left hand and hands it to him, and he remembers to check his fingernails -- which he's learned to keep well-trimmed -- before pulling it on. She hands him the lube. "Use plenty," she says, soft enough that Daniel doesn't know if JD can hear her. "Twice as much as you think you need."
He pumps a puddle of lube into the palm of his hand: two strokes, three, four. A drop falls to the sheets as he coats his hand with it, down to the wrist, past the boundary of the glove. Just in case. He can feel his heart thundering in his chest, nerves and arousal all at once, and he can feel the blood expanding to fill his cock, so slowly it's as though he can feel every vessel opening in turn.
God. He's really going to do this.
Cammie leaves her fist inside JD, rocking it gently, while she reaches across herself with her other hand and folds it around Daniel's, coaxing his fingers into the triangle wedge she'd used before. "You don't need to do this now," she says. "He's open enough. But you should know it for later." Her voice, her words, make him shiver again, and he's not the only one; he can see JD, beneath her, beneath them both, his spine rippling outward. "It's all right to be rough with him. He'll tell you if it's too much. Won't you, baby?"
The last is to JD, and JD answers, not with words, but with another whimper, a plea for more, harder, now. Cammie pats the other side of the bed, on her left side and just outside JD's splayed knees, and Daniel slides behind her, pausing to kiss the nape of her neck as he goes. She melts back against him as he does, pliant and willing, and he can smell her shampoo and the earth-metal scent of her skin.
Then he comes to rest on his knees, his right leg pressed up against Cammie's, straddling JD's calf, and Cammie pulls her gloved hand out of JD's body and surrounds Daniel's right hand with hers. JD makes a wordless noise of protest. She closes Daniel's hand into a fist around his thumb, sets the second knuckles of his index and middle finger against JD's opening, and Daniel finds himself holding his breath as she grips his wrist and pulls him forward.
A push, a twist, and God, JD is like a bonfire around him, hot and wet and welcoming. He can feel the ring of muscle clutching at his wrist, hard, and he shifts a little so that it's more comfortable and JD gasps. It's a good sound, a gorgeous sound, so he does it again, and his knuckles must be just over JD's prostate, because he can feel JD's thigh trembling beneath him.
He turns his head to see whether Cammie has any further instruction to give, and he finds her watching them both, the fingers of her left hand resting on her clit, not stroking, just touching. She smiles at him, soft and lazy, and he leans forward to kiss her. Her mouth is as hot as JD's ass, and she kisses him fiercely, her tongue against his and her mouth wide open. Daniel's head is swimming, and he feels like a conduit between them, his hand inside JD, his tongue inside Cammie, spun out like wire that carries more current than it should. She's the one to break the kiss, and when she does, she rests her forehead against his and he realizes that all three of them are breathing together.
"Go ahead and fuck him," Cammie says, and JD makes a noise that means please, and Daniel can remember that he started out this evening wishing for this to be over quickly, but now he's ready to kneel here and do this forever.
JD still isn't hard, but Daniel's certain now that it doesn't matter. He can feel JD's skin beneath him, surrounding him, and he can feel every inch of the pleasure JD is feeling, reflected back at him with a thousand tiny cues. JD pushes back against his touch, urging Daniel deeper, harder, more. Daniel can feel Cammie's grip just beneath his wristbones, circling his forearm, and she tugs him back and then forward again, rough and forceful, perfectly controlled. Harder than Daniel would have. JD breathes out with a half-vocalized whine, high-pitched and breathy, and Daniel shifts his knuckles a fraction and does it again.
"Fuck," JD says, sharp and edgy, but whatever monsters were riding him before seem to be slipping away, because now it's just the familiar sound of JD's desire. "Jesus fuck. Harder. Harder."
The last thing Daniel wants is to hurt JD, but Cammie is watching him, Cammie has her hand wrapped around his wrist, and he knows she'll stop him even if JD wouldn't. He can feel his biceps starting to burn already, but it doesn't matter. He pulls his hand free, surges forward again, twisting as his knuckles pass the barrier, holding there for a minute and then doing it again. Again. It's not anything at all like fucking JD, like fucking Cammie, like anything he's ever done before. It feels like his whole body is narrowed down to the nerves in his hand, like he exists in this one moment to bring JD pleasure, and he can feel every twist and twitch of JD's skin like a signpost five miles wide.
Next to him, Cammie's breath is coming faster, and he can feel her fingers tighten on his wrist. He stops his motion for a second, a flash of worry that he's gone too far or pushed too deeply, but he realizes a split-second later that it's just the sound and feel of her climax, one of the tiny swells that leaves her breathless and ready for more.
"God," Daniel says, or maybe he just thinks it, and his knuckles skim loose and he pushes forward again. JD writhes beneath his hand, so hot, so tight, and the sounds he's making are pure pleasure. Daniel can feel the sensation reflected back at him, and he wonders -- half a flash -- what JD is getting out of this, whether the euphoria is building to any particular destination or whether the process is the point. He wonders if he could stand this himself, this maelstrom of force and heat and thrust, whether they'd be willing to coax him slowly to the point where his body could bear up beneath such touch. Then he sets the thought aside and concentrates on the feel of JD beneath him, every inch of skin begging for more, until the only thing he can think is yes, like this.
He's sliding his hand inside JD again, seconds or minutes or hours later, when all of a sudden JD's body tenses beneath him, and not in the way Daniel's learned to revel in. It's followed a second later by the sound of JD sucking air in between clenched teeth, but Daniel doesn't need the auditory cue; he's already frozen, motionless, reading the twitch and spin of muscle beneath his hand. "Yeah," JD says, through gritted teeth, and Cammie's hand closes on Daniel's wrist again.
"Fast," she says, in his ear, and Daniel takes a deep breath in and pulls his hand out as quickly as he can. He leaves his knuckles pressed up against JD's ass, not pushing in, just a weight left there for comfort, and JD breathes out and slides down against the sheets, limp and exhausted.
Cammie's right there with a towel for JD's skin, stripping the glove from her hand by pulling it inside-out from the wrist, and Daniel follows suit with his own. His skin feels clammy to the touch; he was sweating, from nerves or arousal or the heat of JD's body, and his fingers are puckered ever-so-slightly at the tips. JD turns his head to watch the process, and his face is calm and open. Peaceful. His voice is rough and raspy as he says, "Fuck her for me. I want to feel you both come."
"Roll over, then," Cammie says, quiet and calm, and JD makes a grumpy noise and does so. Daniel's not sure what he's expecting, but what he gets is Cammie stretching out over JD, settling down against his chest to kiss him, deep and hungry. JD kisses back. Daniel's never stopped loving the way they look together, somehow chaste and innocent no matter how carnal the act is, and now is no different. JD's hand comes up, languid and boneless, to grope around until it falls on Daniel's wrist. He circles it with his fingers, right where Daniel had been buried inside him a moment ago, and pulls Daniel forward.
Daniel goes willingly, pressing himself against Cammie's back, kissing the nape of her neck. His cock nestles between her thighs, which are so wet he glides along her skin, until he bumps up against where JD's cock is lying, still unhardened, between their bodies. He slides his fingers through the heat and dampness, and Cammie makes a greedy noise into JD's mouth and pushes up against him. His fingers brush over her clit; she shudders and breaks the kiss, tucking her forehead against JD's shoulder, and Daniel braces himself against the bed and slides inside her, with the care that has become second nature over the years to keep from resting too much of his weight on her spine.
It feels nothing like fucking JD, like fisting JD, like having his hand buried inside JD's body, and he wonders for half a second if Cammie's ever done that too, if she would even want to, wonders what it would feel like to have his hand nestled inside her cunt the way his cock is cradled inside her now. Then she breathes out, her skin rippling out from her center, and it's the sound she makes when she wants him to fuck her fast and furious, so he takes a deep breath and does.
Eventually, Daniel realizes that they're all rocking together, Cammie's body between him and JD, JD bearing their combined weight and glorying in the feel of their skin against his. Daniel's losing himself in the heat and comfort of Cammie's beloved body, his head against her shoulder, dizzy with the scent of her skin, and he's only dimly aware that JD's hand is between his hips and Cammie's, his fingers moving against her clit, bumping against the base of Daniel's cock. "Come on, sweetheart," JD says in Cammie's ear, and Cammie shivers and clenches and comes, and the last thing Daniel remembers thinking before he comes too, so much deeper and more satisfying than before, is that he never thought he'd find a love like this, so strong and abiding, but he can't imagine how empty his life would be without it.
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