I’m very nervous posting this because I haven’t written anything in ages but I hope this is a little bit like what you were hoping for!!
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It wasn’t the first time this had happened. It didn’t happen often, especially because Joe and Nicky weren’t normally in the mood to share, but it happened often enough that he had learned to recognise the look in their eyes, the way that Joe’s hands lingered on his arm as he passed him a plate at dinner, the way Andy’s eyes sparkled a bit more than usual.
Most of the time it happened after a mission, when they were all hot on adrenaline and needed to remember, viscerally, that they were alive, but sometimes, like this particular occasion, they were just hungering for it.
Even though all of them knew, with unspoken agreement, what was coming, they liked to drag out the anticipation. By the time Nicky cleared their plates after dinner, Booker was antsy, his foot tapping against the floor, his cock pressing uncomfortably against his pants.
Joe and Nicky started things, because of course they did. Their love was the one fixed point around which everything and everyone else moved, and so it was natural that they always ended up being the beginning and the end of these sessions. Joe went over to where Nicky was washing the plates and plastered himself against his love’s back, pressing soft kisses to Nicolo’s neck and lazily rolling his hips—without real intent at first, just chasing the simple pleasure of friction, of pressing as close to Nicolo as he could without being inside him.
“Aspetta,” Nicky complained, “I’m not finished washing everything.” The way he tilted his head back, baring more of his neck to let Joe nip lightly at the skin, made his words ring hollow, and Joe stifled a smile against Nicky’s shoulder, sucking a mark there even though it would disappear almost instantly. “You can multitask, can’t you?” Joe joked, one hand trailing up under Nicky’s shirt to trace slow circles on his belly, while the other hand rubbed Nicky’s cock through the fabric of his pants, slowly working him to hardness.
Nicky’s soft groans had Booker wishing that he had a better view, that he could see the way that Nicky’s cock was filling out even while he stubbornly continued to wash the dishes. Joe was getting his lover ready for him, Booker knew, and just the thought had him stifling a moan.
“Are you just going to watch them or are you ready to help out?” Andy asked with a grin, and when Booker turned to look at her, she had shed her clothes and was sitting nude in her chair, waiting for him. Booker gulped, drinking in the sight of her. She never failed to take him aback with her beauty, the raw power in her toned body.
Suddenly he couldn’t move fast enough, springing up and sinking to his knees in front of her. “Can I, boss?” He asked, nearly vibrating with his eagerness. She laughed at how he was barely holding himself back from touching her, but it wasn’t unkind, merely fond. “Have at it, Book,” she replied, her legs falling open to give him space.
She was already wet, and the first swipes of Booker’s tongue lacked any kind of finesse or strategy. He dove in, as desperate to taste her as if it were the first time. Her hand drifted to the top of his head, not pressing him closer to her for the moment, just holding him lightly, grounding him. “Easy, Book,” she chided gently. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Once his initial desperation abated somewhat, he started to show more skill, alternating between licking into her and tonguing her clit, and she rewarded him with a groan, her grip on his head tightening.
“Want me to tell you what Joe and Nicky are doing?” She asked, her voice slightly strained. He hummed in response, sending a shiver through her as she felt the vibrations against her core. “Nicky has been washing the same plate for two minutes, because Joe has pulled down his trousers and started fucking him. Nicky must have still been loose from this morning, when they woke me up because they were being so loud—ah, that’s it, Book, right there—in the shower.”
Booker groaned at the picture she was painting, his tongue working her faster as his cock twitched in his pants. He heard a hitching cry from Nicky, and Andy chuckled. “Nicky finally gave up on washing the dishes, which is convenient because Joe’s got him bent over the counter now, and I’m pretty sure he’s tormenting poor Nicky’s prostate. Fuck, Booker, why don’t we do this more often? God, you’re good at this when you want to be.”
Her eyes fell shut for a moment as she luxuriated in the feeling of Booker lapping at her, his hands gentle on her thighs, and she only opened them again when she heard Joe’s long guttural moan which she knew meant that he had finished. Joe stayed inside Nicky for a minute, peppering kisses to his shoulders and murmuring something in Italian, too quiet for the others to catch.
When he finally pulled out and Nicky turned around, his eyes locking with Andy’s, her breath caught as she saw how worked up he was, his face flushed, his cock rock hard and weeping, the head an angry red. “Mm, I’ll give you Booker in a minute,” she reassured him, her fingers carding through Booker’s hair. “Let me?” she asked the man kneeling before her, and she didn’t need to explain more, because he was already humming his assent. She cradled his head with both hands, riding his face as she chased her pleasure, and it didn’t take long before she came apart with a cry, holding him against her as her thighs trembled with the aftershocks until she was too sensitive. “So good, Sebastien,” she praised, pulling him up to reward him with a kiss, tasting her own juices on his lips. “Now, Nicky needs you I think.”
Nicky groaned. “Won’t last long,” he warned. Booker grinned. “That’s okay, I have Joe for later,” he quipped. He unbuttoned his pants and threw them to the side before settling in Andy’s lap, trading lazy kisses with her. Joe, relaxed after his orgasm, sprawled next to Andy, watching as Nicky trailed a slick finger around the rim of Booker’s hole.
“Don’t tease,” Booker whined, torn between pushing back into the finger and rutting against Andy’s thigh. Nicky looked up at Joe and Andy, grinning. “What do you think, amore mio? Boss? Should I tease him a bit?” Joe chuckled. “Good things come to those who wait,” he ventured. Andy leaned over to press a kiss to the top of Booker’s head. “Don’t tease him too badly, he was very good for me.”
Nicky would have liked to tease Booker until he was sobbing for it, but the truth was his own patience was limited. His cock was throbbing and aching to be buried in the other man’s sweet warmth, and so he made fairly quick work of opening Booker up, his fingers sliding just past his sweet spot to draw indignant whimpers from the Frenchman. “Fucking—get in me already,” he grumbled. Nicky obliged, sheathing himself to the hilt so quickly that Booker yelped, his cock blurting out precome onto Andy’s thigh.
Nicky set a punishing rhythm, his hips snapping against Booker’s so quickly that the other man could barely catch his breath in between thrusts. “Goddamn it, Nicky,” Booker gasped against Andy’s shoulder, clinging to her as Nicky pounded into him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he repeated in every language he knew, trembling as he felt himself approaching the edge, nails digging into Andy’s arms. “Nicolo,” he breathed, almost worshipful, as he spilled against Andy’s leg.
His pleased sighs quickly turned to pained whimpers as Nicky fucked him through the aftershocks, Booker shaking with oversensitivity. Their immortality might mean that they had shorter refractory periods than usual, but the constant stimulation still had his nerves on edge, an assault of pleasure mixed with too much, too soon. Nicky’s hips stuttered, once, twice, then he drove deep into Booker and came hard, stifling his moan as he bit into the younger man’s shoulder. As strung out as Booker was, it felt like an age that Nicky was spilling in him, cock twitching with each fresh wave, but finally he pulled out, pressing a last kiss to Booker’s neck.
Booker was exhausted. His face was still wet from eating Andy out, his cock soft and lying in his own cooling release, and he had Nicky’s come trickling down his thighs. But there was one piece missing, he knew, and he lifted his head to look over at Joe. “Joe?” He asked. “How do you want me?”
Joe’s cock had slowly started to take interest in the proceedings as he had watched his lover spill deep inside Booker, but he was still mostly soft. “I want to be inside you,” he admitted, “but first I need you to get me hard for you. Do you think you can do that?”
Booker nodded, clambering off of Andy’s lap with unsteady legs. “Ah, ah,” Andy admonished, gesturing to the mess Booker had made of her thigh. “Before anything else, you need to clean that up.” Booker flushed crimson, but he immediately complied, laving her leg with long strokes until there was no trace left of the pleasure that had coursed through him just a few minutes earlier.
Nicky had beaten him to Joe, kissing his lover deeply and nipping at his lower lip. They broke apart briefly as Booker came over, and Joe laid a gentle hand on the Frenchman’s shoulder, pushing him down and feeding him his cock. Even mostly soft, sliding into Booker’s mouth felt like heaven, and Joe sighed happily against Nicky’s lips. “Do your worst, Booker,” he commanded, and the other man did his best to follow through. Booker had always loved giving oral, to men and women alike. He liked the intimacy of it, the messiness of it, the feeling of kissing soft folds or the edge of a hard length. He loved this the most, because he had to work for it. He earned the heady feeling of Joe thickening in his mouth by pulling out all the tricks he had learned over a long lifetime, one hand cradling Joe’s balls, the other stroking the base of his cock, his tongue caressing the head, dipping into the slit, lapping up beads of precome as they appeared.
Finally Joe pulled Booker off of him with a punched-out groan, rubbing the head of his cock against Booker’s lips as if he couldn’t bear to leave that wet warmth entirely. He gave Nicky a last, lingering kiss and then motioned Booker to bend over the table. “Don’t come on my table, Book,” Andy warned. “I’d like to still be able to eat breakfast there tomorrow morning.”
Booker nodded shakily, stammering out a “yes, boss” as he bent over, bracing himself against the wooden table. He expected Joe to slide in right away, but instead he felt fingers playing at the edge of his hole, not stretching him, just lazily thrusting inside, and Booker flushed as he realised that Joe was rubbing Nicky’s come into him. “Joe, please,” he begged, the overstimulation from his earlier release gone and replaced by a desperate need to have Joe spearing him open.
When Joe bottomed out inside him, Booker buried his head in his hands on the table, gasping at the stretch. Where Nicky had fucked Booker hard and fast, Joe took his time, sliding almost all the way out before pushing back in in slow, deep thrusts that unerringly brushed against Booker’s sweet spot. “So tight for me,” Joe murmured. “Even after Nicky took you earlier. Fuck, I can feel his come in you, it makes you so slick.”
Booker was too far gone to reply, his nails scrabbling at the table as Joe pushed him up it with each thrust. Distantly he heard Andy remark, amused and a little turned on: “God, the noises you make, Booker.” Booker couldn’t help the whines and gasps and soft cries—Joe felt so perfect in him, and Booker couldn’t decide which he wanted more, for this to go on forever or to feel Joe’s release inside him, joining Nicky’s. “Please,” he begged, nearly sobbing, not even sure what he was asking for. More, more of the long slow drag of Joe’s length, more friction for his aching cock, more nights like this where he felt like he had found a home amongst the team. “Please, Joe, please...”
By the time Joe finally spilled inside him, Booker had started to worry that he wouldn’t be able to keep his promise to Andy not to come on the table. He was so hard it hurt, and hearing Joe’s gasp of relief as he found his release was nearly enough to send him over the edge. “Boss, I can’t—please, Boss,” Booker pleaded, turning around once Joe had pulled out of him.
Andy got up from her chair where she had been watching the boys and lazily fingering herself, and gave Booker a soft kiss, wrapping her hand around his length. “I’ve got you, Book,” she murmured. “It’s alright, you can come now. You’ve been so good for us, you deserve it.” Her finger brushed over the head, her nail toying with the slit, and Booker lost it with a howl, coming in thick spurts all over her fist. She held him as he shook, his eyes closed as he surrendered to the pleasure.
When he finally opened his eyes again, Joe and Nicky were curled up together, kissing chastely and murmuring to each other in their habitual mishmosh of languages. Andy chuckled and shared a grin with Booker—this was how it always ended, with the two of them reaffirming that no matter what happened, they were the love of each other’s lives. Neither Andy or Booker would ever want to get between that—but they couldn’t help but enjoy sharing a piece of that love, every once in a while.
Fill: Andy/Joe/Nicky/Booker, gangbang
I’m very nervous posting this because I haven’t written anything in ages but I hope this is a little bit like what you were hoping for!!
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It wasn’t the first time this had happened. It didn’t happen often, especially because Joe and Nicky weren’t normally in the mood to share, but it happened often enough that he had learned to recognise the look in their eyes, the way that Joe’s hands lingered on his arm as he passed him a plate at dinner, the way Andy’s eyes sparkled a bit more than usual.
Most of the time it happened after a mission, when they were all hot on adrenaline and needed to remember, viscerally, that they were alive, but sometimes, like this particular occasion, they were just hungering for it.
Even though all of them knew, with unspoken agreement, what was coming, they liked to drag out the anticipation. By the time Nicky cleared their plates after dinner, Booker was antsy, his foot tapping against the floor, his cock pressing uncomfortably against his pants.
Joe and Nicky started things, because of course they did. Their love was the one fixed point around which everything and everyone else moved, and so it was natural that they always ended up being the beginning and the end of these sessions. Joe went over to where Nicky was washing the plates and plastered himself against his love’s back, pressing soft kisses to Nicolo’s neck and lazily rolling his hips—without real intent at first, just chasing the simple pleasure of friction, of pressing as close to Nicolo as he could without being inside him.
“Aspetta,” Nicky complained, “I’m not finished washing everything.” The way he tilted his head back, baring more of his neck to let Joe nip lightly at the skin, made his words ring hollow, and Joe stifled a smile against Nicky’s shoulder, sucking a mark there even though it would disappear almost instantly. “You can multitask, can’t you?” Joe joked, one hand trailing up under Nicky’s shirt to trace slow circles on his belly, while the other hand rubbed Nicky’s cock through the fabric of his pants, slowly working him to hardness.
Nicky’s soft groans had Booker wishing that he had a better view, that he could see the way that Nicky’s cock was filling out even while he stubbornly continued to wash the dishes. Joe was getting his lover ready for him, Booker knew, and just the thought had him stifling a moan.
“Are you just going to watch them or are you ready to help out?” Andy asked with a grin, and when Booker turned to look at her, she had shed her clothes and was sitting nude in her chair, waiting for him. Booker gulped, drinking in the sight of her. She never failed to take him aback with her beauty, the raw power in her toned body.
Suddenly he couldn’t move fast enough, springing up and sinking to his knees in front of her. “Can I, boss?” He asked, nearly vibrating with his eagerness. She laughed at how he was barely holding himself back from touching her, but it wasn’t unkind, merely fond. “Have at it, Book,” she replied, her legs falling open to give him space.
She was already wet, and the first swipes of Booker’s tongue lacked any kind of finesse or strategy. He dove in, as desperate to taste her as if it were the first time. Her hand drifted to the top of his head, not pressing him closer to her for the moment, just holding him lightly, grounding him. “Easy, Book,” she chided gently. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Once his initial desperation abated somewhat, he started to show more skill, alternating between licking into her and tonguing her clit, and she rewarded him with a groan, her grip on his head tightening.
“Want me to tell you what Joe and Nicky are doing?” She asked, her voice slightly strained. He hummed in response, sending a shiver through her as she felt the vibrations against her core. “Nicky has been washing the same plate for two minutes, because Joe has pulled down his trousers and started fucking him. Nicky must have still been loose from this morning, when they woke me up because they were being so loud—ah, that’s it, Book, right there—in the shower.”
Booker groaned at the picture she was painting, his tongue working her faster as his cock twitched in his pants. He heard a hitching cry from Nicky, and Andy chuckled. “Nicky finally gave up on washing the dishes, which is convenient because Joe’s got him bent over the counter now, and I’m pretty sure he’s tormenting poor Nicky’s prostate. Fuck, Booker, why don’t we do this more often? God, you’re good at this when you want to be.”
Her eyes fell shut for a moment as she luxuriated in the feeling of Booker lapping at her, his hands gentle on her thighs, and she only opened them again when she heard Joe’s long guttural moan which she knew meant that he had finished. Joe stayed inside Nicky for a minute, peppering kisses to his shoulders and murmuring something in Italian, too quiet for the others to catch.
When he finally pulled out and Nicky turned around, his eyes locking with Andy’s, her breath caught as she saw how worked up he was, his face flushed, his cock rock hard and weeping, the head an angry red. “Mm, I’ll give you Booker in a minute,” she reassured him, her fingers carding through Booker’s hair. “Let me?” she asked the man kneeling before her, and she didn’t need to explain more, because he was already humming his assent. She cradled his head with both hands, riding his face as she chased her pleasure, and it didn’t take long before she came apart with a cry, holding him against her as her thighs trembled with the aftershocks until she was too sensitive. “So good, Sebastien,” she praised, pulling him up to reward him with a kiss, tasting her own juices on his lips. “Now, Nicky needs you I think.”
Nicky groaned. “Won’t last long,” he warned. Booker grinned. “That’s okay, I have Joe for later,” he quipped. He unbuttoned his pants and threw them to the side before settling in Andy’s lap, trading lazy kisses with her. Joe, relaxed after his orgasm, sprawled next to Andy, watching as Nicky trailed a slick finger around the rim of Booker’s hole.
“Don’t tease,” Booker whined, torn between pushing back into the finger and rutting against Andy’s thigh. Nicky looked up at Joe and Andy, grinning. “What do you think, amore mio? Boss? Should I tease him a bit?” Joe chuckled. “Good things come to those who wait,” he ventured. Andy leaned over to press a kiss to the top of Booker’s head. “Don’t tease him too badly, he was very good for me.”
Nicky would have liked to tease Booker until he was sobbing for it, but the truth was his own patience was limited. His cock was throbbing and aching to be buried in the other man’s sweet warmth, and so he made fairly quick work of opening Booker up, his fingers sliding just past his sweet spot to draw indignant whimpers from the Frenchman. “Fucking—get in me already,” he grumbled. Nicky obliged, sheathing himself to the hilt so quickly that Booker yelped, his cock blurting out precome onto Andy’s thigh.
Nicky set a punishing rhythm, his hips snapping against Booker’s so quickly that the other man could barely catch his breath in between thrusts. “Goddamn it, Nicky,” Booker gasped against Andy’s shoulder, clinging to her as Nicky pounded into him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he repeated in every language he knew, trembling as he felt himself approaching the edge, nails digging into Andy’s arms. “Nicolo,” he breathed, almost worshipful, as he spilled against Andy’s leg.
His pleased sighs quickly turned to pained whimpers as Nicky fucked him through the aftershocks, Booker shaking with oversensitivity. Their immortality might mean that they had shorter refractory periods than usual, but the constant stimulation still had his nerves on edge, an assault of pleasure mixed with too much, too soon. Nicky’s hips stuttered, once, twice, then he drove deep into Booker and came hard, stifling his moan as he bit into the younger man’s shoulder. As strung out as Booker was, it felt like an age that Nicky was spilling in him, cock twitching with each fresh wave, but finally he pulled out, pressing a last kiss to Booker’s neck.
Booker was exhausted. His face was still wet from eating Andy out, his cock soft and lying in his own cooling release, and he had Nicky’s come trickling down his thighs. But there was one piece missing, he knew, and he lifted his head to look over at Joe. “Joe?” He asked. “How do you want me?”
Joe’s cock had slowly started to take interest in the proceedings as he had watched his lover spill deep inside Booker, but he was still mostly soft. “I want to be inside you,” he admitted, “but first I need you to get me hard for you. Do you think you can do that?”
Booker nodded, clambering off of Andy’s lap with unsteady legs. “Ah, ah,” Andy admonished, gesturing to the mess Booker had made of her thigh. “Before anything else, you need to clean that up.” Booker flushed crimson, but he immediately complied, laving her leg with long strokes until there was no trace left of the pleasure that had coursed through him just a few minutes earlier.
Nicky had beaten him to Joe, kissing his lover deeply and nipping at his lower lip. They broke apart briefly as Booker came over, and Joe laid a gentle hand on the Frenchman’s shoulder, pushing him down and feeding him his cock. Even mostly soft, sliding into Booker’s mouth felt like heaven, and Joe sighed happily against Nicky’s lips. “Do your worst, Booker,” he commanded, and the other man did his best to follow through. Booker had always loved giving oral, to men and women alike. He liked the intimacy of it, the messiness of it, the feeling of kissing soft folds or the edge of a hard length. He loved this the most, because he had to work for it. He earned the heady feeling of Joe thickening in his mouth by pulling out all the tricks he had learned over a long lifetime, one hand cradling Joe’s balls, the other stroking the base of his cock, his tongue caressing the head, dipping into the slit, lapping up beads of precome as they appeared.
Finally Joe pulled Booker off of him with a punched-out groan, rubbing the head of his cock against Booker’s lips as if he couldn’t bear to leave that wet warmth entirely. He gave Nicky a last, lingering kiss and then motioned Booker to bend over the table. “Don’t come on my table, Book,” Andy warned. “I’d like to still be able to eat breakfast there tomorrow morning.”
Booker nodded shakily, stammering out a “yes, boss” as he bent over, bracing himself against the wooden table. He expected Joe to slide in right away, but instead he felt fingers playing at the edge of his hole, not stretching him, just lazily thrusting inside, and Booker flushed as he realised that Joe was rubbing Nicky’s come into him. “Joe, please,” he begged, the overstimulation from his earlier release gone and replaced by a desperate need to have Joe spearing him open.
When Joe bottomed out inside him, Booker buried his head in his hands on the table, gasping at the stretch. Where Nicky had fucked Booker hard and fast, Joe took his time, sliding almost all the way out before pushing back in in slow, deep thrusts that unerringly brushed against Booker’s sweet spot. “So tight for me,” Joe murmured. “Even after Nicky took you earlier. Fuck, I can feel his come in you, it makes you so slick.”
Booker was too far gone to reply, his nails scrabbling at the table as Joe pushed him up it with each thrust. Distantly he heard Andy remark, amused and a little turned on: “God, the noises you make, Booker.” Booker couldn’t help the whines and gasps and soft cries—Joe felt so perfect in him, and Booker couldn’t decide which he wanted more, for this to go on forever or to feel Joe’s release inside him, joining Nicky’s. “Please,” he begged, nearly sobbing, not even sure what he was asking for. More, more of the long slow drag of Joe’s length, more friction for his aching cock, more nights like this where he felt like he had found a home amongst the team. “Please, Joe, please...”
By the time Joe finally spilled inside him, Booker had started to worry that he wouldn’t be able to keep his promise to Andy not to come on the table. He was so hard it hurt, and hearing Joe’s gasp of relief as he found his release was nearly enough to send him over the edge. “Boss, I can’t—please, Boss,” Booker pleaded, turning around once Joe had pulled out of him.
Andy got up from her chair where she had been watching the boys and lazily fingering herself, and gave Booker a soft kiss, wrapping her hand around his length. “I’ve got you, Book,” she murmured. “It’s alright, you can come now. You’ve been so good for us, you deserve it.” Her finger brushed over the head, her nail toying with the slit, and Booker lost it with a howl, coming in thick spurts all over her fist. She held him as he shook, his eyes closed as he surrendered to the pleasure.
When he finally opened his eyes again, Joe and Nicky were curled up together, kissing chastely and murmuring to each other in their habitual mishmosh of languages. Andy chuckled and shared a grin with Booker—this was how it always ended, with the two of them reaffirming that no matter what happened, they were the love of each other’s lives. Neither Andy or Booker would ever want to get between that—but they couldn’t help but enjoy sharing a piece of that love, every once in a while.