"Out of the Way"
Part 1/1
Story V in the "Way" Series
Copyright (C) 1996 by A. Manley Huff
<ahaight@earthlink.net>This story is not in any way intended to infringe on copyrights held by J.
Michael Straczynski, Babylonian Productions Inc., or Time Warner
Productions. This story may be distributed only with prior permission of
the author, and may not be posted to any archive, ftp site, or web page
without the written permission of the author. This story is distributed
for the individual personal entertainment of persons over 21, and is not
subject to purchase or sale by anyone.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Garibaldi woke up because he realized he couldn't move his legs.
Then he realized that Susan was wrapped around them, sound asleep.
He grinned up at the ceiling in the darkness of his bedroom. John
was close to him, curled on his side, snoring gently. The impression of a
panther from the night before was still strong, and even as Garibaldi
reached out to rub his back, Sheridan shifted slightly and rumbled in a
remarkably pantherous way.
Really wanting to stretch his legs out, he gently moved them,
extricating them one at a time. Susan stirred and complained in a soft,
unconscious moan, holding him tighter for a moment.
"Hey," he murmured. "Gimme my legs back. They're cramping."
Susan growled in some semblance of comprehension and allowed him to
stretch out on the bed. "Ahhh, that's a lot better," he sighed.
"Can't help it," Susan mumbled from under the covers. "They're
comfortable."
"Sorry I woke you up," Garibaldi replied quietly. "But I hadda
stretch." Susan shifted, a shrug, and rolled over. He wished he could
see her; she was naked, as they all were, and his memories of her nudity
made him feel very warm inside.
"S'okay," she sighed. She hummed, amused. "Hope you liked last
night."
"Like?" he said. "Why is it that we can't come up with words good
enough for things?" He sighed, and when he spoke again his voice was
gentle. "My God, Susan. I didn't know I could feel like that. I didn't
know I could feel like I do now."
"How do you feel now?" she wondered quietly. There was a soft
pause in the darkness.
"Safe," he said. She heard him laugh. "Isn't that something? I feel
safe. And wanted. Loved. I'm not used to feeling like that."
"I'm glad you feel that way," she said. "It means John and I got our
message across."
He was going to ask her what she meant by that, but was
interrupted by Sheridan rolling over and rumbling deep in his chest. His
question faded into the back of his mind as another, somewhat more
immediate, curiosity took hold of him.
"You think he would mind if we woke him up?" Garibaldi asked.
Ivanova chuckled.
"Depends how you plan on waking him up," she said.
"Oh, I was definitely thinking of something very naughty," he
murmured. He reached out under the covers, searching for Sheridan's
body. He found it, closing his hand around an unexpectedly stiff, warm
erection. Sheridan rumbled again, his hips thrusting gently, reflexively.
"Whoa," he said.
"What?" Susan wondered.
"Middle of the night boner," Garibaldi said, sounding extremely
pleased. "We should take advantage of this, you know."
"Well," Susan said, "he did tell me once he liked being treated like
a sex object."
"Yeah? Well, let's go for it."
"What did you have in mind?" she asked.
"I was thinking the classic double mouth attack," he said. "I'll go
for his cock and you can have the rest." She laughed.
"Deal."
"Oh yeah," she heard him mutter and they switched places in the
bed, Garibaldi moving down to spread Sheridan's legs and Ivanova
putting herself up by Sheridan's chest. Garibaldi hummed pleasurably
and she heard a wet sound that she knew very well. Sheridan's hips
pushed up, a low growl coming out of his throat.
"Don't be gentle, Michael," she said as she leaned down to lick at
Sheridan's nipples. "He likes it rough and intense. Suck for all you're
worth." He laughed, his mouth full, and suddenly Sheridan convulsed,
his voice breaking into the room sharply. It startled her even as she felt
adrenaline flame out from her middle.
Everything came undone when she bit down on his nipple. A
sound like nothing she'd ever known came roaring out of John's throat,
his hand raising up to claw across Susan's back, nails digging deep. She
grunted, surprised by the pain and the suddenness of it, but didn't
relent. She knew she didn't dare stop, and hoped Michael had the sense
to keep going, too.
What she didn't know was that Michael had made his teeth felt at
almost the same instant she did, nipping sharply at the tender skin
under the head of Sheridan's cock and drawing his teeth back down the
shaft. He took Susan at her word that Sheridan liked it rough. Neither
of them -- possibly not John himself, either -- really understood how true
that was.
Sheridan's voice was clear and hard, like polished steel in the air,
as he yelled and swore, writhing on the bed. They had to hold him down
to keep him still enough, and he still fucked Michael's mouth with a
savage relish. He made enough noise to wake the dead, all in that
bright, shining voice that spoke of unbearable fire, a sexual fury that
went beyond his body and would remain unsatisfied even once this was
done. He did not speak their names, did not say anything intelligible
beyond the most rudimentary exclamations of affirmation and desire, but
his voice alone made their guts wrench, made their hearts tremble and
their groins flame. A man who would never get enough -- of this, or
anything.
Susan discovered, purely by obeying an impulse that she usually
suppressed, that he loved to be bitten. Hard. She left deep marks on his
ribs and belly, bruises that would show darkly later. He howled with
each one, laughing, swearing, begging for her to do it again. She bit his
throat and he grabbed her by the hair, pulling her mouth to his brutally.
She tasted blood, not sure whose it was and not caring.
Michael was not even sucking on him when he finally started to
writhe the way he did when his orgasm was approaching. Michael had
the head of John's cock in his mouth and was applying gentle pressure
with his teeth on the flesh, alternating with quick strokes of his tongue
around the crown and into the hole. Obviously it was bliss, and he kept
it up at a steady, uneven pace as John began to howl.
"Oh yeah oh yeah oh yeah _oh yeah_ _oh yeah_ _yeah_ _yeah_
_yeah_ _yeah_ YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAHHHHHH AAAAAAAHHHHHH!" He
arched his back, drawn taut as a steel cable, Susan's mouth sucking
hard on one nipple and Michael taking his come eagerly. When the peak
of it let go suddenly, he swore violently again. "FUCK, _oh_ dammit..." A
growl left him, low and shuddering. "Ah, shit, that hurt." He started to
laugh, full-throated and exalted.
Then there was a violent rustle in the bedcovers as Sheridan tore
through the bed toward Garibaldi. Strong hands closed on Garibaldi's
shoulders and he was pushed down on his back. He could sense
Sheridan looming over him in the darkness, pausing for a considering
instant, breath ragged. Then a hot mouth on his, tasting him, tasting
what he had taken out of John's cock. Sheridan growled at him, the kiss
almost cruel. Garibaldi knew the truth, though -- blind hunger, a
simple, oppressive need to devour. He rubbed his hands up Sheridan's
back, welcoming it even though it was painful. Sheridan seemed to get
his fill, and broke the kiss with a groan. "Oh God yes," Sheridan moaned
breathlessly. "God, you two are so fucking amazing." He sat up,
reaching for Susan. He found her shoulder, moved closer to her as she
turned to face him. He put his palm on her back, searching for the deep
scoring he had given her. "I think you're bleeding," he murmured,
drawing away wet fingertips.
"I'll live," she said, sounding distinctly amused.
"Christ, John," Garibaldi said from his pose on his back. "Did you
grow fangs and horns when I wasn't looking?" Sheridan laughed roughly
in the dark.
"I guess I was a lot less inhibited...sleeping like that and then
having you wake me up. Oh, I love it, damn..."
"You like waking up like that?" Susan asked.
"Ooh, yeah," Sheridan purred. He laughed again, sounding briefly
shy. "Urm...what time is it?"
"A little after four hundred," Garibaldi said, and Sheridan groaned
tiredly.
"No wonder I'm exhausted." There was the sound of him flopping
back down onto the bed. He heard Ivanova chuckle.
***
The next morning, Sheridan spent an unusually long time in his
office taking an interstellar communication. When he came out, he
looked much more upbeat than when he had gone it. She watched him
come around the upper deck in C&C, privately appreciating his
muscular, easy gait.
"Good news," he muttered to her. "The Lumati want another
meeting. The Ambassador said it was to 'finalize our relationship'. From
talking with him it looks like they want to deepen our alliance, maybe
provide us with a lot more firepower and resources than we're currently
getting. He wants me to come to their flagship for negotiations."
"That _is_ good news," she said. "Uh...do I have to go?" He
grinned.
"No," Sheridan said, and she heaved a sigh. "They said they only
required me. It's traditional, apparently."
"Thank God," she said. "I don't think I could...do _that_ again."
Sheridan stifled a laugh.
"You looked pretty good from where _I_ was watching," he
murmured for her ears only.
"So when do you go?" she asked.
"Tomorrow," he said. "I'll take a Starfury out. Their flagship's in
Ganges sector -- close enough that I'm not worried. I'll probably be gone
about four days." Ivanova nodded, then she looked apprehensive.
"You know, the Lumati's method for sealing deals is pretty well
established. Do you think they're going to make you..."
"I don't know," Sheridan shrugged. He looked a little apprehensive
in the depths of his blue eyes. "Guess I'll find out, won't I? It can't be
much worse than what we've already done, and that wasn't so bad."
"I guess not."
***
"This sucks."
Ivanova sighed as she sat down in front of Garibaldi. It had been
he who had spoken, and she nodded, drumming her fingers on the table.
They were in Earhart's, the high babble and warm laughter of good
morale keeping the place hopping.
"I miss him, too," she said, downing a swallow of her drink.
"Thought I was gonna go crazy this morning when I woke up wishing I
could fuck him and he wasn't there. It's frustrating."
"I hadn't realized how much a part of my sexual habits you two
have become," Garibaldi said in a low voice. "I can still jerk off but it
isn't as much fun as when you guys watch. So, I don't even bother.
Jeez, I haven't come since he left two days ago."
"That's bad for you," Ivanova teased him. "Tell you what, I'll take
you to dinner. Gotta do something to stop from going nuts, right?" He
grinned.
"Sounds good. How's nineteen hundred sound?"
"Perfect."
***
He had a sexy walk, a casual swagger that transferred to her body
softly as they went deeper into the maze. She had one arm around his
lower back, able to feel his muscles shift as he moved, definition sharp
beneath his silk shirt. His hand shifted a little where he had an arm
across her shoulders, holding her close against his body as his thumb
rubbed her trapezius restlessly, slowly. They had been walking like that
since they left the restaurant, each of them comfortable with the
closeness, needing the sensuality of it but hesitant to take another step
that would bring them to the level of intimacy they always knew in
John's presence.
The oddness of that struck Ivanova suddenly. Sheridan was the
exhibitionist, Garibaldi the voyeur, and _she_ felt inhibited when John
_wasn't_ around? Oh, that was one for the books, all right.
//What happened to the brass nerve, Susan?// she asked herself
wryly. //Can't go for Garibaldi's ass when Sheridan's not looking? Oh,
that's sad woman. Very sad. And his ass is so cute...// It was the soft
scent of his cologne again, flooding her groin with warmth, that finally
got her nerve back. She moved her hand down over his belt, down to rub
her palm over one of his buttocks firmly. She felt his hand tighten on
her shoulder but he said nothing.
"What's the matter, Chief?" she teased in a low voice. "Don't you
like being fondled by a superior officer?"
"Oh, I like it a lot," he sighed ruefully, glancing at her. She saw the
heat in his eyes. "Just...nervous, I guess." And he did shiver suddenly.
"Of me, or where we are?" she wondered. He swallowed.
"Both," he said. She stopped him and they paused on the path.
"I'm the one who's supposed to be a prude about this, remember?"
she said, rubbing her hands up his chest. She found his nipples
through his shirt and he gave a sharp sigh, his eyes closing briefly.
"Dammit," he whispered, "no fair taking shortcuts." And he bent
his head to meet her as she reached for his mouth with her own.
"Mmmm...uuurrrryeah," he sighed, putting his arms around her tightly.
"You are so fucking sexy." She chuckled as he kissed his way down her
neck to the collar of her white shirt, nuzzling the hollow of her throat.
She was surprised when he pulled away, still swallowing hard.
"What is it, Michael?" she said. He shook himself a little, taking
his hands off of her hips.
"We shouldn't be doing this," he murmured, looking away uneasily.
"What the hell are you talking about?" she said, keeping her voice
down but very confused. "If you're nervous about being out here we can
sure as hell go somewhere else."
"It's not that," he said. "Well, not entirely." He rubbed at his face,
still not meeting her eyes.
"Look at me for Chrissakes," she hissed and he obeyed reluctantly.
"Is it something I did? God, Michael, at least tell me." Michael put his
hands in his pockets and shrugged frustratedly. He couldn't think of
any way to explain so he just said it as basically as he could.
"You're John's," he muttered.
"I'm _what_?" she said. "Are you out of your mind? John doesn't
_own_ me like some kind of...of _cat_." Garibaldi's mouth twitched -- a
leopard was exactly what she looked like that moment. A sleek, sexy...
"Susan, moving in on you while John's not around is the worst
thing a man can do to his friend," Michael sighed.
"Don't look now," Susan growled, "but you and John did it without
telling _me_." Michael looked shocked for a moment.
"But...he said you wouldn't mind..." Oh, that sounded good. "That
you'd talked about it before and you _wanted_ him to if he wanted it."
"That's right," Susan said quietly. "And we had the same
conversation about you and me. Jesus Murphy, Michael, how thick is
your skull anyway? John's not the voyeur. Do you think he would have
let you and me do what we've already done if he were jealous? If he
comes back from this diplomatic mission and finds out we _haven't_
done anything while he was gone, he'll think there's something wrong
with us. He's been worried from the beginning that you and I won't ever
warm up to each other, and...and I for one am glad we did." She realized
her throat was trying to close up. "Michael, didn't you hear me the other
night?" She took his face in her hands. "Ya lublu tyebya." She
whispered it for him, softly exotic. "Ya lublu tyebya. I love you.
Dammit."
He kissed her again, filled with heat from her closeness, comforted
by her words -- given the permission that some part of him needed. He
wasn't betraying John by doing this...wasn't trying to take something
that Susan didn't already want to give him. Sweet, ferocious
lust...Garibaldi hummed low in his throat. He wanted her bad, wanted
to hold and kiss her and pleasure her. She responded so deliciously to
him, writhing in his arms now as he kissed her throat, nuzzling hard into
her neck and collarbone.
She pulled at him, dragging him by his tunic down a side path in
the maze to a low stone bench. She needed to feel him, to press close.
She made him sit down and she climbed into his lap to straddle him.
His surprise was obvious in his face but he didn't resist, and she pushed
her sex against his cock through their clothes. He was rock hard
beneath her. She held his face, thumbs stroking his cheeks sensually.
"Jesus, Michael, you've got such a big cock," she whispered. "I
want it, you know. I love big cocks." He felt a surge of primal pride and
shifted slightly to let her feel more of it, spreading his knees a little more
and pushing it between her legs.
"That sounds really good from my perspective," Garibaldi
murmured, his arms around her waist. She moved again, grinding her
pelvis into his, trying to ease the throbbing ache in her sex. He shoved
gently and her breath caught. He grinned. "Found something, huh?" he
asked. "Like that?" She took his lower lip between her teeth and nipped
him, making him grunt.
"Hell, Michael," she groaned. "I love that. I love you, I love your big
cock, I love your hands around me. One of these days I was gonna just
fuck you in front of John, see what he thought of it. He'd love to watch,
I'm sure. But he's not here and I'll just have to take my ease without
him, won't I?" She grinned at him and was rewarded by a look of utter
desire and naked wanting on his face. He moved again, the hard ridge of
his cock pressing against her clitoris through layers of their trousers and
underwear. She gasped a curse and Michael licked his lips.
"Thought so," he murmured. "Let's see if we can't do something
about _that_, hm?" His hand was on her belt buckle, pulling it loose. He
unfastened her trousers as she watched, silent, breathless, unzipping
them down to the seam quietly. He pulled the tails of her blouse out and
put his hand up under it to lie flat on her lower abdomen. She exhaled
shakily, resisting the urge to move, to get his hand closer to her sex.
But he had that in mind already, his thumb exploring down under
the edge of her underwear, pushing through soft, curly hair. The outer
lips of her sex were swollen and warm, and when he probed gently his
thumb was covered in wetness. He grinned up at her as she gasped.
"Michael," she whispered, amazed, hungry. "Oh yeah. Yeah, do
it."
"Hell, you're ready, aren't you?" he growled. "Susan, oh man, it
makes me crazy to feel you wet like this for me. You want me to touch
you? Huh?" His thumbpad touched her clitoris firmly and she choked
on a groan, holding his eyes in desperate thirst, not daring to move from
his lap, not daring to do anything but beg him with her eyes and her
voice.
"Yeah, Michael, come on," she hissed. His hand was hidden under
the trailing edge of her blouse, buried in her trousers, his thumb
stroking wetly back and forth between the lips of her sex, stroking her
clitoris lightly. She shuddered with every sliding touch, her entire body
quivering. Her hands were gripped into his shoulders tightly and his
cock flared in his pants. "Yeah Michael," she whispered brokenly as
electric flame rushed up her back from her groin. "Yeah Michael."
He licked his mouth, watching her, feeling her with one arm
around her back and the other bent to pleasure her. Her weight on his
lap shifted when she twitched. He could feel her shivering, saw the raw
sensation in her gray eyes, the sheer intensity of her desire. He pushed
his thumb back farther to her vaginal opening, which was also hot and
pulsing. He flicked his thumbtip into it and she gave a strangled gasp.
He repeated it swiftly, rapid flickering strokes in and out of the sensitive
flesh. She shuddered violently, whimpering, beyond speech to express
her appreciation.
"That makes you want my cock, huh?" Garibaldi whispered
fiercely, their mouths close. "Want something bigger than my thumb?"
He dragged his thumbtip back across her clitoris, pausing to tickle it.
Her hands clenched into his arms viciously, her eyes finally closing for a
few panting breaths.
"I thought," she gasped softly, "thought you didn't like doing things
like this in public." Garibaldi smiled wickedly.
"This path's a dead end," he said, "and my back's to the open end.
Who can tell, huh? Unless you start yelling." He chuckled as she swore
at him. He was rubbing her clitoris now, a steady, urgent pleasuring
meant to drive her over the edge with a scream. He wondered if he would
have to kiss her to keep her quiet, but she was holding her screams
down to quiet groans -- just barely. "Yeah, there you go, Susan," she
whispered. "Am I gonna make you come? I've been wanting to, you
know. Do it just for me." He stroked through her wetness again, making
her snarl, then returned to rubbing her clitoris in a sharp, even rhythm.
"Dammit, Michael, you're gonna make me..."
"Come on, Susan, do it for me -- "
"Can't hold it, oh Jesus -- "
"Gonna come, huh, Susan? You want my cock in there? God,
you're so hot -- "
"Yeah, I want you, Michael, oh I'm coming -- "
"Let go, come on -- "
"Yeah, I'm gonna -- "
"That's it -- "
"Oh, Christ -- "
"There you go," Michael crooned, "yeah there it is, Susan." She
was grunting, whimpering, eyes shut tight and writhing against him.
"Mmm, yeah. God, I want to fuck you." Her sex was throbbing hard,
wetness flooding his thumb and part of his palm. "Do it for me, yeah,
Jesus it looks so good." She gulped hard, trying to stifle her moans. His
thumb slowed carefully when she flinched, sensitive in the hot wake of a
fiery orgasm.
"You wanna fuck me, Michael?" she gasped, holding his face to
force him to look at her. He was flushed, trembling with arousal. "Let's
do it then. Come on; we'll go back to my quarters. Right now. While
you're still hot for it. Dammit I still want your cock."
"Oh yeah, God," Michael groaned. She climbed off of his lap,
hastily stuffing her blouse into her trousers and zipping them back.
Garibaldi got to his feet eagerly, shifting his cock in his pants. It would
show while they went through the corridors back to her quarters, but
there wasn't much he could do about it but bluff his way. //At least I'm
big,// he thought. //Maybe that'll keep their mouths shut.//
"Come on," Susan muttered, pulling him with her out of the
labyrinth.
He grabbed her as soon as they got inside the front room of her
quarters, not even waiting for the door to shut. She was on him just as
quickly, pressing her mouth to his passionately, licking and tasting him.
She unbuttoned his shirt swiftly, getting her hands inside.
"You want my cock, huh?" he murmured between kisses. His own
hands were working on her belt and trousers, pulling her shirttails out.
Her hands were everywhere; on his nipples, stroking down his chest,
sliding into his pants. When had those gotten unzipped?
"Yes," was all she said, too breathless to come up with anything
more profound or witty than that. "Now. Please, Michael." Her trousers
and underwear were around her knees, one of his hands between her
legs.
"Jesus," he murmured. She was _really_ ready, wet and warm
under his fingers. He teased her softly and she groaned, almost a sound
of pain. She kicked the trousers off irritably, absently, pushing
Garibaldi's boxers down to bare that big cock that haunted her dreams.
"Come on," she muttered, drawing him back toward the wall.
"Please, Michael." As she turned around he understood what she
wanted, and she put both hands on the bulkhead as he took her hips
firmly. He shifted carefully, pushing the white shirttails from her
buttocks and taking the excuse to caress her, getting his cock between
her thighs. He felt a drop of warm wetness land on the tip right before
he pushed it against the lips of her sex. So wet -- Christ, he thought it
almost throbbed around the tip of his cock. "Michaelllll," she groaned.
Even as she begged him with his own name, he pushed, sinking
deep into her with a sigh of such relief, oh, it was so good...
"Oooooohhhhh yeeaaahhhh," Michael purred as her sex clenched
around him like a vise. She was so tight and hot; he laughed softly,
amazed, delighted.
"Do it," Susan hissed. "God..." He withdrew slowly, as Susan drew
her breath in through clenched teeth. When he rammed back into her
suddenly, she cried out, her fingers going stiff on the wall like talons.
Not in the mood for teasing games, Michael immediately started
thrusting, a steady, urgent fucking that drove Susan wild. She clawed at
the wall, groaning loudly. "Oh yeah, you're so fucking big, oh my God,
Michael..." He held her hips tightly, ramming into her hungrily, letting
himself groan and purr and laugh. She pounded the wall hard with her
fist, once, and swore viciously, pushing back against him. She couldn't
get enough of him, couldn't have enough of that delicious cock, his
hands strong on her hips. "Can't take you all the way like this," she
moaned suddenly. "Gotta move."
Michael slowed his thrusting for a few moments. Her legs
quivered; he could feel the trembling in her flanks under his hands.
"Aw, do I hafta pull out?" he teased in a whisper. She growled at
him and he withdrew. He shoved his pants and boxers the rest of the
way off, kicking them away along with his shoes. "I got an idea, though,"
he said, pulling her away from the wall, getting her close to him to hold
and kiss her as he moved her back across the room.
"Mmm?" she moaned, lost in his mouth. His hands were undoing
her shirt buttons to bare her breasts and belly. Damn, she was
gorgeous. She gasped when he picked her up and sat her down on the
table. "I don't think the table's sturdy enough for this..." she managed as
Michael bent over her.
"Guess we'll find out, won't we?" he said wickedly and pushed her
down on her back with a hard thump. In the next instant he had both of
her legs in his hands and was shoving his cock into her. It went in -- all
the way in -- and Susan let out a roar of surprise and relish. Her hands
gripped the table's edge, holding on for leverage and also out of sheer
violence.
"Ha! Gotcha all the way now, don't I?" Michael snarled, bucking
hard to take her breath away. She just laughed wildly as the table jolted
with each thrust, lifting partway off the floor. There was the hard, wet
sound of his hips slamming against hers, the thudding bounce of the
table, and both of them yelling and grunting noisily.
They gradually pushed the table across the floor until it hit the
wall, and Michael found himself with exquisite leverage, pounding into
Susan with a spontaneous, fiery abandon the likes of which he hadn't
known in any kind of recent memory. He knew it was going to be over
soon, and when Susan started showing signs of reaching a breaking
point, he slowed, leaning down. "Suzotchka," he murmured, "let's move
this to the bed, huh? You'll be more comfortable." She groaned pitifully.
"Oh, God, Michael, I'm so close," she moaned. Michael got his
hands around her waist, pulling her up off the table. She put her hands
around his neck, legs around him, and he picked her up.
"Come on," he crooned. Standing up, he held her tightly, hands
gripped around her sweat-slicked buttocks. He was still ensheathed in
her, deep enough that he could feel her sex throbbing dully. It was
difficult to hold the position, and he walked carefully into the bedroom.
Susan, her arms around his neck, murmured something in Russian, and
then whispered to him.
"Oh, Michael," she purred. "God, I'm so close. You're so big,
damn, I think I could almost come just like this." He said nothing, just
lowered her down onto the bed, and she reached back to brace herself as
he came down on top of her. "Hard and fast, Michael, hard and fast,"
she hissed. He obeyed immediately, starting to buck savagely and able
to see in her eyes the orgasm that threatened her. "Oh yeah, Michael, oh
yeah, come on...God you're gonna make me come, gonna make me -- "
She broke off and yelled in Russian, bright and clear like glass, arching
back and clutching at his shoulders.
His own climax wasn't far behind, and when Susan regained some
coherency, she saw it in his tension, his hard fucking, the quivering
groans that escaped him.
"Gonna do it," he groaned hoarsely, "yeah, coming,
aaaaahhhHHH!" It flooded over him in a rush of heat and piercing
pleasure, surging out of his cock deliciously. He was surprised by her
voice in the midst of it.
"Pull out, Michael," she breathed. "Let me watch you come." He
withdrew his cock, sitting back even as the orgasm peaked and he
groaned softly. She loved seeing it, his big cock spilling its heat on her,
splashing over her thighs and her sex. He was holding himself gently,
fingers and thumb delicately stroking key sensitive spots on the shaft
and crown. He leaned his head back and he moaned quietly, clearly
finding a more ethereal pleasure in it than in the fucking, and wetness
dripped over his knuckles.
He finally went dry, still trembling gently, his back arched in
sensuous pleasure. He looked down at her from up on his knees, then
reached up, back behind his head to stretch, flexing biceps luxuriously
and purring.
"Now _that_," he said, "was a good, old-fashioned _screw_." Susan
chuckled, writhing sensually on the bed on her back.
"Well I feel most thoroughly screwed," she agreed. Michael shook
himself out with a satisfied sigh.
"Ohhhh, man," he breathed. "That was _good_. I haven't had a
fuck like that in...well, shit, ever, I think." He laughed, and so did she.
Michael carefully unbent his legs from under him and lay down on the
bed. "Ahhhhhh. Much better. I think a lot of my muscles are gonna
hurt tomorrow."
"I always kind of liked that part," she murmured, amused. "Like
my body reminding me of what I did." He hummed contentedly, and she
grinned. "You want to stay here tonight? You can, you know."
"Rrrrrrmmmm," he said, sprawling out on the bed. "Thanks. I
don't know if I could face the rest of the station right now after running
through the halls with a raging boner in my trousers." She giggled.
***
He had just gotten out of the shower the next morning when she
barged into the lavatory.
"Jeez, you're forward," he grumbled teasingly as he toweled off.
She was naked, deliciously, achingly naked. He felt warmth pool in his
groin and when she took the towel away from him mischievously, he was
laid bare, his cock rising between his legs in slow, pulsing steps.
Something devious flickered in her eyes and she wrapped her hand
around his erection.
"Come here," Susan murmured wickedly. "I want to teach you
something." Garibaldi followed interestedly as she led him back to the
bed by his cock.
"Yeah?" he said. "What?"
"Kneel down on the bed," she said, gesturing in front of her as she
climbed into the middle of the covers. "You ever tease yourself by
bringing yourself right to the edge and then backing off, to see how long
you can keep yourself close but not actually coming?" Garibaldi shot her
a hooded, thoughtful look as he climbed onto the bed. Then he smiled
curiously, like a man with a secret.
"Yeah," he said. "I'm pretty good at it, if that's what you're getting
at. Why, you going to go for another record?" She laughed and moved
close to him, touching his thighs to rub them sensuously.
"No," she said. "Not exactly." She got her own thighs around his,
almost sitting astride him. "I want you to touch yourself, play with
yourself, but don't come. I'll do the same. We keep doing it until we
can't stand it anymore, and then I take your cock inside me. The idea is
for the penetration to be the trigger that sets us off, without any
thrusting."
"You mean we get so crazy that just my cock going in makes us
come?" he said, licking his lips. She was _very_ close, and he was
already responding, his cock starting to twitch. She noticed it and
grinned.
"Yep," she said, sliding her hand down between her legs. "You're a
voyeur," she mused. "You get off from watching me play with myself,
don't you?" Michael swallowed hard.
"Oh yeah," he murmured. "Like you wouldn't believe."
"So go on," she urged. "Do yourself too. But don't come. Not until
we're both crazy for it." He put his hand around his own cock, just
holding tight for a moment, watching her as she put two fingers down
into the soft hair of her sex and started to move her hand slowly. He saw
the instant of delight on her face, sweet and hungry. His cock hardened
the rest of the way and he stroked gently with two fingers of his own on
the underside of the shaft, applying pressure.
"Damn, it sounds like fun if we can do it right," he sighed, loving
her passionate gray eyes. "Jesus, you make me hard just looking at me."
She chuckled.
"Good," she whispered. It sounded a little strained. "So do you.
The eagerness on your face, so raw..." She started to groan softly,
holding his eyes, her hand moving between her legs. He ached to help,
to touch her, his cock throbbing with the thought, but he knew that self-
discipline was crucial to this. Keeping his hand on himself, watching
her, waiting for the right moment...
"You tried this with John yet?" he wondered. Susan grinned at
him. It was savage.
"He can't do it," she said in a gasp. "He doesn't have the self-
control. But I think you do. Don't prove me wrong."
"I can do it," Michael growled, grinning to match hers. Her thighs
were tight around his, her body writhing gently, so close her caressing
hand almost touched his where he stroked his cock. "Hell if I can't.
Fuck, you make me horny, Susan. The way you look at me, at my cock.
How bad you want it. God, when I had you on the table last night you
were begging for it, yelling for it you wanted it so bad. I never had
anybody that hot for me. Oh, man..."
"It isn't just your cock," she said, deliciously inflamed by his
words, by the determination with which he returned her heated stare.
"It's what you can do with it. Any man can have a big cock. I've been
with men before who were big like you. But you really know how to use
it right. Like you said, a good old-fashioned screw. Damn, Michael, I'll
yell for it every time if you keep fucking me like that."
Michael licked his mouth again. His cock was so hard it almost
hurt, his hand on it the perfect stimulation he had taught himself over
his lifetime.
"Ahhhrrrr," he growled, slowing his hand suddenly and closing his
eyes for an instant. "God, that's so good."
"Close, huh?" she murmured, grinning. He nodded, his jaw
clenched, smiling. "Good; you're doing good so far." He saw her hand
move suddenly, heard the wet sound of her plunging two fingers into her
sex, penetrating herself. She shuddered and Michael fought to keep his
hand still until the pleasure receded enough for him to continue without
coming instantly. Jesus, she was hot...
"Fuck, you're gonna drive me nuts, Susan," he groaned, laughing.
"That's the idea," she hissed, leaning forward briefly to lick at his
mouth. He gasped and reached back with his own tongue. She pulled
away after a few moments and he bared his teeth hungrily.
"Fuck, Susan," he whispered. "Oh..." This time it was she who
almost came, groaning painfully with the frustration of stilling her hand
and holding his gaze fiercely. The sight of it made his own climax swell
suddenly and his hand stopped, gripping tight to the shaft. His cock
shivered but the orgasm didn't arrive.
"Yeah, Michael," she groaned. "You want it?"
"God you don't know how much," he hissed, looking up at her
where she nearly straddled him. "But not until we're both crazy, yeah?"
She laughed softly.
For almost forty minutes, they sat close and drove themselves and
each other to the brink of insanity. Sweat rolled down Michael's back,
heat in his thighs, his belly, groin, chest. Everything was burning on the
edge of breaking him with the need that flamed in his body. He had
fought it back seven times and now hovered on a plateau of something
unimaginable, like that sweet, painful instant just before orgasm, but
drawn out over the space of minutes. He felt sweat drip off of his chin
again onto his quivering hand where it was tight around his ruddy,
swollen cock. The hole at the tip was so wet, leaking gently onto his
knuckles and mingling with his sweat. He'd never been so incredibly
ready.
Susan was no better. They both sweated where they touched,
dampness between her skin and his, hot like being in an oven. Her sex
was swollen and tender, direct touch on her clitoris so unbearable she
had resorted to teasing around it. Even that now was enough to bring a
warm threat of climax and she backed off, trembling. She swallowed
hard for the hundredth time, loving the sight of Michael's astonishing
self-control, the absolute, raw need in his face in spite of it. They still
held the other's stare, loving the glimpses of feral thirst in the other's
eyes, lips pressed together, throats closing around low grunts and
moans.
"Susan," he said in a strangled whisper. "Susan, I can't take it any
more. I gotta have it. I gotta have you around me, oh, God, let me,
_please_..."
"Not yet," she grated. "I'm not...quite...ready..." Her hand moved
again, slow, teasing, around the edge of the lips of her sex, then pushing
inside suddenly for an instant and pulling out again as she gave a
heaving gasp of sexual shock. "Oh..."
"Susannnnn," he groaned, stroking a finger around the crown of
his cock. The ridge was too sensitive now; just a single lick there and he
would be done for. He leaned toward her, reaching as if to bite her, and
then his mouth closed with a snap of teeth, his lips peeled back from
them in a snarl. "Susan, dammit, I _need_ it. Fuck, I'm gonna go
insane..." She put her free hand on his shoulder and squeezed tightly.
"Think it's now," she gasped. "I think..." She rose from her
kneeling position to climb onto him, taking her hand away from her sex
finally. Holding his shoulders with both hands, she lowered herself
carefully, hovering just over his cock. "Yeah, Michael? Gonna do it?"
"Shit, yeah," he hissed. "Just wanting it I think I can come now,
oh, Susan..." He put his hands on her hips as she came down on him,
slowly, exquisitely, letting herself down onto his cock and he began to
impale her. Her sex started to quiver and throb, right on the edge, and
something enormous rushed forward inside her, a tide of impossible
pleasure about to hit.
"Michael," she choked, "Michael, oh, Michaelllll -- " He saw the
dawning shock in her eyes, felt her sex trembling around his rock hard
cock. Then something touched him, deep inside, like a finger across the
very essence of his sexual soul. He sucked in a deep, shocked breath,
filling his lungs with astonishment and fire as something awesome began
to flame in his groin.
"Oh, _Susan_," he breathed in pure amazement. "Oh, fucking
_Christ_ -- " He reached up and took her face in his hands, holding her
eyes, wanting to see every moment of this, to show her what he was
feeling. "Oh, I'm doin' it, hell yeah,
oh..._fucking_..._Christ_...Ah...Ah...Ah...Ah..."
"Coming with you, Michael," Susan whispered feverishly, holding
his wrists. "Yeah, feel it? Oh, yeah, I can feel you coming. Oh, _God_..."
But she didn't look away from him, her sex throbbing hard, gripping
him, waves of ecstasy flaring out to fill her with shudders and groans.
It seemed to take forever to let go, receding like a slow tide, warmth
washing through them both until they became aware of their own
panting, hard breaths and the sweat that covered them. Michael looked
stunned, his eyes so open to her in that moment, and she gazed back at
him, wondering if he saw as deeply into her.
Then she started to laugh, a full-throated sound of joy and delight.
Michael grinned and let out a whoop.
"Eeeeeeyyyyyaaaahoooo!" he howled, grabbing her around the
waist with both arms and grinning up at her. "That was _incredible_!
Oh, god dammit! Where the _fuck_ did you learn how to do that?"
"Trade secret," she panted. "I gotta keep something to myself, don't
I?" She kissed him long and obscenely, and he purred, his arms around
her. "You're good at it, too, Michael. You're _really_ good."
"Think we should try to let John in on it?" he wondered as she
disengaged from him. "We could try teaching him." He looked and
sounded like he savored the idea of engaging Sheridan that way. She
laughed, sprawling out on the bed on her belly.
"We could drive him crazy doing it in front of him," she said
thoughtfully. "He'd end up fucking one or both of us in an explosion of
lust. As I said, he doesn't have the self-control to do it with me, but it
was kind of fun watching him lose it."
"Huh, I'll _bet_," Garibaldi said wryly.
"Not a bad idea, though," Ivanova said finally. "Part of the problem
is that when John and I try it, we're both aroused and when he loses
control I don't want to stop him, and we end up fucking. But if there was
someone else there, kind of a referee, it might work better."
"Definitely something to keep in mind," Garibaldi said.
***
They met Sheridan when he came back the next day in his
Starfury, escorted by two Lumati heavy fighters. He came out of the
pilot's locker room looking tired and besieged.
"Welcome back, Captain," Ivanova said warmly. He smiled at
them, glad for their friendship suddenly as if he had realized while he
was gone how precious it was. "How did it go?"
"Well," Sheridan said with a sigh, "we got a more complete
commitment from the Lumati. They've been having raids on their outer
colonies -- Shadow ships and their allies. They want an alliance with us;
they're scared I think, and I don't blame them. I hammered out a treaty
of mutual support. They're ready to throw everything they've got at the
Shadows, and we really need that assistance."
Ivanova nodded, and Garibaldi moved closer.
"We missed you," Garibaldi said in a low voice. "We missed you a
lot. Feel like coming back to my place for some...ah...recreation?"
Ivanova grinned at the tone. Garibaldi was almost as randy as Sheridan
most of the time, so she was surprised when Sheridan looked reluctant.
"Uh...no, I'm...really tired, Michael." He sounded apologetic and
worried, as if uncertain how the refusal would be taken.
"Hey," Garibaldi said gently, "no problem. You look beat. Go on
and get some sleep." Sheridan relaxed, looking grateful, and the two of
them watched him amble on down the hall. As they watched him go,
Ivanova blinked. Amble? Sheridan was walking oddly, possibly the way
someone who was bruised would walk. As if...
She looked at Garibaldi, who met her eyes; he was thinking the
same thing. They spoke at the same time, shaking their heads.
"Naaaahhh."
End Story V
“Last Time, Back Way”
Story IV in the “Way” Series
Copyright (C) 1996 by A. Manley Huff
This story is not in any way intended to infringe on copyrights held by J. Michael Straczynski, Babylonian Productions Inc., or Time Warner Productions. This story may be distributed only with prior permission of the author, and may not be posted to any archive, ftp site, or web page without the written permission of the author. This story is distributed for the individual personal entertainment of persons over 21, and is not subject to purchase or sale by anyone.
—————————————————————–
The sound of the shower ceased, and Ivanova rolled over indolently in Sheridan’s bed, waiting for him to come back and do something sensuous to her body, which she knew he would. They spent much of their off-duty days together, sleeping in the same bed luxuriously and having conversations late into the night. She always liked to shower first, to have the time to herself to listen to him in there and bask in the afterglow of whatever kind of sex they had had.
Tonight it had been oddly violent and raw, John raking his short nails across her flanks as he had fucked her hard, grunting viciously close to her ear. And yet there had been something sweetly honest in it, his basest, most intimate needs bared to her by his sexual urgency. She knew him deeply in those moments, heard his soul in his voice, saw his heart in his eyes. If there was any such thing as violent compassion, it was in him.
Tonight…tonight he had kissed her at the instant of his climax, and she had tasted love in his mouth. He had not said anything when the orgasm passed, had not spoken the feeling that she saw in his gentle, hesitant smile. But then he had embraced her tightly with a soft moan, and she knew that any words would not have been equal to his experience.
She heard him come back into the bedroom, his bare feet quiet on the carpet. The mattress dipped as he came into bed with her on his knees, and then his warm nakedness was on top of her, his soft penis pressed into her buttocks, strong legs next to hers, and he bent down to kiss lightly up her spine. He paused at her shoulder, then bit gently. She hummed softly, appreciatively, to let him know his attention was enjoyed. He hummed in reply, with an odd note to it, and she listened intently when he spoke.
“You really are beautiful, you know that?” he whispered. “Not just on the outside. You let me be who I am and you don’t resist or mock me for it. God…God…” He rested his forehead on her shoulder with a sigh. “I’ve done things with you I never did with anyone else…shown you things I kept inside myself the whole time I was married. There are…edges in me that are so much a part of me…they make me ache. And it’s all right for me to show them to you. God, you even like it. The…the entire relationship we have with Michael…showing off for him, letting him watch…Anna would never have done that for me. She would never have allowed it. And it was something I wanted desperately to have if I could just find the right person…and now…Susan…Susan, I love you.”
Ivanova rolled over to touch his face in the darkness. It had been almost five months since the first time they had let Garibaldi watch them make love. A little over five months since she and John had become lovers. In those short months with Michael, a bond had been forged. Michael was so sweet, so painfully shy sometimes and blatantly, deliciously honest other times. But he had never touched them, at least not sexually. He stayed in the chair, in the shadows, watching, hungry, loving every moment and heartbreakingly grateful for the honor and the trust conferred on him. There was something much more private, much more loving, in that distance than there would have been if their relationship had begun more physically. They all knew it, sensed it. It was a treasure, a fragile, delicate thread that was slowly and surely becoming a bond of something much stronger and more lasting.
“I know you can’t say that back to me,” Sheridan said after a brief moment, putting his fingers on her lips. “I don’t expect you to. Maybe you will eventually, maybe not. But I want you to know that I feel this way.”
“I’m…honored,” she replied quietly. “I could never do anything else but give you what you need. I like doing that. It’s no sacrifice.” She was silent for a moment. “There’s something else you’ve been wanting to ask me lately but you haven’t. I wish you wouldn’t hide it.” Sheridan sighed heavily and rolled onto his back. She waited patiently, knowing that whatever it was, he feared that she would react badly to it.
“I’ve been thinking about Michael,” Sheridan said. “I’d like to let him get a little closer to us, both literally and figuratively. You don’t look at him much when he’s watching us make love, but I’ve seen him fighting down the urge to make himself come while he’s with us. He definitely gets hot enough to want to, and he touches himself through his pants, but I don’t think he’s ever climaxed. Sometimes when I hint at it, he becomes evasive. But I think he wants to do it.”
“He’s probably paranoid of imposing himself too much on our relationship,” she said. “I keep getting the impression that he doesn’t think of himself as part of it, even though we’ve involved him intimately from our perspective. He’s still acting like an outsider.”
“Yeah,” he said, “you might be right.” A pause. “Would you…be open to letting him in a little more?”
“How do you mean?” she asked.
“We could get him really turned on…he likes it most when you go down on me. Then get him to come onto the bed with us to watch. I think…if I do it right, I can get him to open up to us more.”
“And open his pants and do himself,” Ivanova chuckled, and Sheridan laughed roughly.
“Yeah, I…I hope so.” She heard him swallow. “At least, I’d like to see him more involved with us. I want to see him come for us. For me.”
“I detect notes of voyeurism in there,” she teased.
“I think sometimes that exhibitionists are, in some weird way, closet voyeurs, too,” he said. “As if…seeking reciprocity.”
“John,” she said, amused by his reluctance. “If you want to do something to Michael, by all means, do. There are few things that I like better than the idea of you and him together. If you’re attracted to him, I won’t stop you. In fact, I would love to have a front row seat.” There was another pause, and then Sheridan was hugging her.
“Thank you, oh, God, this could be so sweet.” He pulled away when she started laughing. “What is it?”
“I just had a thought,” she said. “Do you think _this_ is Michael’s number one favorite thing in the entire universe?”
They howled with laughter.
****
Ivanova strode down the corridor toward Garibaldi’s quarters. She could still see Sheridan’s startled expression from that morning when she had volunteered to invite Garibaldi to their next “spectator session,” as they had started to call it. Garibaldi didn’t watch every time they made love; they did keep some of it for themselves. Especially, perhaps, that morning. Sheridan confessing that he loved her…it was still amazing to her, in a quiet, reassuring way. And that morning his lovemaking had been very gentle and slow.
The truth of the matter was that she had started to really enjoy the sessions they spent with Michael. It was such a clinical word…sessions. Wasn’t it, in a way, just another kind of lovemaking? After all, any two strangers could have sex, and that wasn’t the same as what the three of them were doing. It was a real bond, of trust and friendship and oddly open lust. It was true she didn’t look at Michael much when she was actually making love to John, but she had seen what John was talking about; the distance, the buried need. Michael obviously took tremendous pleasure in being with them, watching. But there was something else that went unsatisfied. She didn’t like that idea any more than John did. If there was something else Michael needed that he wasn’t getting, she wanted to make it happen for him.
She smiled wryly. John had seemed a little startled that she admitted to finding the idea of him and Michael together to be…interesting. Hell, the idea of two men making love was a natural turn-on for her, and the idea of John and Michael made her belly quiver with curiosity and eagerness. She was not jealous, not at all. She was even a little surprised by that. But somehow it just wasn’t threatening. Not John and Michael. Not threatening, no, but she intended to do what she could to facilitate it, and then get the hell out of the way. She grinned as she arrived at Garibaldi’s quarters, and pressed the door signal.
The door opened after a moment, and she went in. Garibaldi was just coming out of the bedroom, dressed casually.
“Hi. What’s up?” he asked amiably. She went a little closer to him than usual before stopping and answering him.
“John and I were wondering if you’d like to watch tonight,” she said, and savored his reaction to both her tone of voice, and the invitation. “We wanted to do something special for you.”
“Really?” he said. “I’d love to. Are you…” He swallowed. “Are you going to tell me what or do I have to wait to find out?”
“No advance teasing,” she said, grinning. “But could we do it here, in your quarters?” Garibaldi’s eyes widened. They had never done that before. Neither she nor Sheridan had ever asked, and he hadn’t suggested it because it seemed too forward given the nature of their relationship.
“Sure!” he said. “I’d like that. As long as you don’t mind a big duck poster staring down at you the whole time.” Ivanova’s mind coughed up the framed Daffy Duck picture he had hanging on the wall over his bed, and she chuckled.
“I got no problem with the little black duck,” she said, and Garibaldi grinned. “What time’s good for you?” Garibaldi raised both eyebrows.
“Since ‘immediately’ is probably out of the question, how about nineteen hundred?”
“Nineteen hundred, then,” she said, smiling at him. “John’s really looking forward to it.” Garibaldi swallowed, and she smirked inwardly. /Got him by the balls now./
“I’ll be waiting,” he murmured.
****
“Will you stop that?” Ivanova said plaintively. Sheridan paused in the middle of the floor.
“What?”
“Pacing like that. You’re making me nervous.”
“Sorry,” he said, turning around to pace back toward the wall agitatedly. Finally she got up and went toward him.
“John,” she said, touching his shoulder gently. She couldn’t keep her amusement out of her voice. It was fascinating watching him become suddenly uptight like this when he had spent the past few months as the most open and unabashed of the three of them. “It’s okay. You want this.” Sheridan turned on her like a panther, buried passion rising in him like hellfire.
“Yes,” he hissed. “I want this. I want you. I want him. I feel like I want everything, like I could…” He gestured as if lifting something. “…take it all in my hands and into me…” He closed his eyes and swallowed a hard sigh. “God, you don’t know…it’s so hard to try to put into words. I’ve thought about things like this. Dreamed them in dreams that until now have stayed in my head. But to have it waiting for me in Michael’s quarters — now — God, it feels like every moment of arousal, every moment of power and need and delight all wrapped up in a tight little ball — ” He clenched a hand into his shirt on his stomach.
“I think he wants it as much as you do,” she said, answering his intensity with sober steadiness. That was what he needed now, that surety. “I’ll do most of the work. You just do what you want…what you need. Jesus, John, I don’t know what’s more terrifyingly wonderful about you sometimes; your repression or your openness.” He was looking at her with that naked rawness in his eyes again. Not sexual exactly…but needing.
“We’d better go,” he murmured. “We’ll be late.”
****
He moved through the corridors with a stone-faced expression that was dark and forbidding like a black sky before lightning split the heavens. Ivanova was aware of it, aware of his tension, of the sensation he must harbor in his belly to be moving like he was, hands clenched at his sides. He said nothing, and when they reached their destination, Garibaldi greeted them with that endearing shyness. He tried so hard to be nonchalant, and managed only to look achingly hesitant.
The door closed behind Ivanova, but she didn’t hear it. Sheridan’s soft breathing next to her was like a jungle cat growling in the distance.
“Hi,” Garibaldi said, moving toward them. He had changed clothes…she had always liked that shirt on him, something bronze with a subtle pattern. “This is really different…doing it here. I’m glad you suggested it.” Ivanova shrugged enigmatically, smiling.
“We thought it was about time. That maybe you’d be more comfortable.”
“Yeah, I — ” He broke off as Sheridan moved close to him, watching him intently, just breathing softly. “You okay, John?” Sheridan reached up to close his hand tightly on Garibaldi’s opposite shoulder and push the man back into the bedroom behind him. The intense stare was not to be argued with, and Garibaldi let himself be guided backwards toward the chair by the wall from where he would watch them tonight. Sheridan pushed differently this time, making him sit, holding him down with those savage eyes. Garibaldi swallowed as Sheridan’s hand slid from his shoulder, fingers spread. “John?” Sheridan touched his mouth to silence him, and Garibaldi saw the hard look fracture for an instant, baring a glimpse of desperate appetite, like white flame. Hungry, so hungry…
Ivanova came up behind Sheridan and embraced him with pure sexuality, one hand drawing across his chest, the other moving down to press into his groin. Sheridan leaned his head back and let out an exhale of relish. His own hand covered hers between his legs, and in another breath she was working at his belt.
Garibaldi felt astonishment fight with ecstasy inside his chest somewhere. He started to tremble. They were close to him, so close…usually they were on the bed already when they began this, but he could reach out that very moment and touch Sheridan’s leg if he wanted to. Oh, God, this was already unbearable. He sat absolutely still and Ivanova dragged Sheridan over to the bed.
She coaxed him out of his clothes, didn’t really need to encourage him but his need was so plain on his face and in his demeanor that it seemed to almost get in the way of things. Clothes shed, he returned to the bed on his knees and Garibaldi realized what they were doing. Jesus, yes, she was going to go down on him. Garibaldi licked his mouth, shifting restlessly in the chair.
The noise that rose from Sheridan’s throat when she engulfed his cock was utterly feral, demanding and savoring in the same breath. He began grunting sensuously, writhing a little to fuck Ivanova’s mouth, and Garibaldi echoed the cries softly, holding tightly to his cock already painfully hard in his trousers.
And then Sheridan looked over at him, the gaze like a hand reaching straight into his gut and closing a fist around his heart. Sheridan extended his hand in a spread-palm gesture, pointing to the empty edge of the bed.
“Come over here, Michael,” he growled. Susan was between his spread knees, holding him, pleasuring him with her tongue and teeth, licking and sucking him to the point of nearly being unable to think at all, much less engage in this demand, this domination. But he had to. The pain and lust and longing in Garibaldi’s eyes pulled at him so. Even if he had not come here intending to do this, he would still be making this plea, this offer. “Come on.”
Garibaldi couldn’t believe this. He got up, legs trembling, leaving the cushioned chair behind to approach the bed where Sheridan panted and swallowed groans, and Ivanova was going down on him like nothing else existed. The wet sound of it made Garibaldi’s gut clench deliciously. Sheridan’s eyes were like shards of steel. “On the bed. Do it.” Garibaldi climbed onto the bed on his knees uncertainly, wondering what in God’s name Sheridan meant for him by doing this.
“What am I — ”
“You want to come?” Sheridan grunted, holding Garibaldi’s eyes in spite of sweet distractions of pleasure from Susan sucking on him. “Huh?” He groaned softly and glanced away before continuing. “You want to fondle yourself, play with yourself and come while watching this? Fucking hell, Michael, do it.” Garibaldi stared, eyes wide, adrenaline flaming in him. His cock was rock hard, his hands quivering to obey, to tear his clothes open and just obey…
“John, Christ, I don’t know if — ” Sheridan was upon him like a wolf, leaning down across the bed savagely to reach for his trousers and pull the belt free until it hung open. The bulge in his groin was quite pronounced, and Sheridan, panting, drew back, gesturing fiercely.
“Fuck you, do it!” Sheridan hissed. “You want it so bad. I want to see you let go from watching me.” Susan’s tongue sent a flicker of heat up his spine and he leaned his head back with a snarl. Garibaldi had one hand on his cock now, holding tight. “Michael,” Sheridan growled, holding his hand out entreatingly. “Michaellllluurrrrr…” He arched back in bliss at the delight Susan was bringing him, and Garibaldi had both hands down his pants before Sheridan could draw another breath.
“God damn it,” Garibaldi whispered in a rush. “God damn it, John, you make me so fucking hot…”
“Do I?” Sheridan hissed with a smile, loving the sight of Garibaldi with both hands disappearing down into his pants and moving slowly, urgently. “Show me.”
“God damn it,” Garibaldi moaned, holding his balls up hard to his body and kneading his cock tensely. It felt so good, so luscious and electric. He used one hand quickly to unbutton his shirt to get it out of the way of his groin.
“Yeah, come on,” Sheridan whispered to him. “Ahhhhuuurrrr, God, Susan…” Garibaldi realized that Sheridan was looking at him penetratingly, keeping his gaze instead of looking away like he had done much of the time in the past few months. He realized again that he couldn’t stand having his cock confined. Sheridan wanted this out of him, forced it just by the naked thirst in his eyes. Garibaldi struggled with his trousers and boxer shorts, pushing them both down out of the way so he could fondle himself properly. Sheridan bared teeth at him in a vicious grin of appreciation. “Yeah, Michael,” he said, voice straining, “come on. Do yourself.”
“Damn you, John,” Garibaldi hissed. His hands moved on his cock and balls voluptuously, holding tight to his testicles with one hand and sensuously kneading his cock with the other. “Fuck, this is so fantastic, oh, man…” Sheridan reached out again, palm up, coaxing him, urging him.
“Come on, Michael,” he whispered provocatively. He licked his mouth, sweat gleaming on his face and throat. Susan was making him twitch and buck reflexively. “Do it on my hand. Come on my hand.”
“Jesus Christ, John, don’t turn me on like that, oh fuck,” Garibaldi moaned, closing his eyes, his cock tight in a grip of intense, swift masturbation. “I don’t know if I can shoot that far but damn it, you make me want to…”
“You can,” Sheridan grunted. “I want to feel it. I want to see you.” His feverish stare alone would have been enough to get Garibaldi hot, and the sight of him getting close to his own climax, groaning through clenched teeth, panting softly, made Garibaldi forget about anything but the raw need that pounded in his blood, in his groin. “Do it, Michael. Come on me.”
It was too much, the sound of Sheridan’s hungry, rasping voice, the erotic blaze of dominance, of such open, base desire. Garibaldi felt the promise of his climax swell urgently, deliciously. Never been so close, never had the chance of masturbating in front of them like this…oh, it was so sweet. He savored the distant rising heat that came toward him like a wall of flame. Sheridan saw it in his eyes and opened his mouth expectantly. “Yeah, Michael…” Garibaldi kept his eyes open, holding John’s rapturous stare, as the orgasm consumed him, thick streams arcing across the bed to splash over John’s open hand and arm. “Yeah, that’s it, Michael. Come for me. That’s it.” Sheridan’s own ache to receive it was so obvious, white wetness dripping between his trembling fingers onto the bed as Garibaldi’s rich ejaculation covered the bed between them in long, powerful surges.
John started to laugh, a joyous, silvery cry as he leaned back to close his eyes. Garibaldi realized he was coming, his hand clenching possessively into a fist around the wetness Michael had given him. John’s laughter became a yell of ecstasy, a note of sweet pain in it, of pleasure beyond toleration.
“Oh yeah, John,” Garibaldi whispered, smiling, delighted to see such bliss.
The end of it was John panting hard, elation still painted on his features. He flopped down onto the bed on his back, fist still tight around the milky semen in his hand, groaning. He laughed again, convulsing.
“Oh my God,” he moaned, grinning. “You are so fucking amazing, both of you. Damn it, I don’t have a vocabulary big enough to say that right.” He laughed joyfully.
“Shit, what a mess,” Garibaldi gasped, laughing himself. Susan had sprawled herself across Sheridan’s legs, humming to herself contentedly.
“I love this kind of mess,” she murmured. “A man coming is never a disagreeable mess.” Garibaldi leaned down on folded arms on the bed to gaze across at her face from about eight inches away.
“You are a perverted and lecherous woman,” he said, smiling. “I ever tell you I like that about you?” She chuckled, licking her lips slightly. “What does he taste like?” Garibaldi murmured.
“You want to find out?” she asked mischievously.
“Yeah,” he said, and closed the few inches between them to kiss her exploringly. He drew back, running his tongue across his upper lip. “He tastes kinda like me, actually.” Ivanova reached down to take Garibaldi’s right hand.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” she said, licking away some of the semen that had spilled onto his knuckles during his ejaculation. He watched with pure wonder and pleasure. “Tastes like you to me,” she said in a low voice. Garibaldi hummed, pleased, putting his head back down on folded arms.
“You two look cute like that,” came Sheridan’s amused voice. He was propped up on his elbow, watching them.
“You should talk, Mr. Boy Scout,” Ivanova replied teasingly. Garibaldi laughed.
“Yeah, and you just blew _that_ image all to hell,” he said. “If the past five months hadn’t been enough. Damn, John…” Sheridan leaned toward him, holding his eyes.
“You ever watch yourself in the mirror when you come?” Sheridan asked. “Or listen to yourself? You’re really something, Michael.” Garibaldi sobered quietly.
“I just had to be honest with you, you know?” he said softly. “You wanted it so much. Damn _I_ wanted it so much. Hahrrrrr…” He heaved a sigh and let his head drop back down onto his arms. He looked at Sheridan sidelong. “And I bet you want to wash that off.” Sheridan opened his hand to look at the drying stickiness on his palm and forearm. “Go on,” Garibaldi said, waving toward the lavatory as if shooing a reluctant pet dog. Sheridan snorted, amused, and disengaged himself from Susan to climb off the bed and go clean himself.
Ivanova hummed quietly, laying on her side, eyes half-closed.
“You know,” she said after the bathroom door closed. “You look really silly like that.” She meant his posture and state of undress; his trousers and boxer shorts around his knees, shirt open, laying on his stomach with his bare bottom exposed. He laughed.
“Guess what?” he said. “I don’t care.” He was smiling devilishly. “I feel really good and that doesn’t happen to me as much as I’d like. I’m not gonna mess it up.”
“Good idea. Cute boxers by the way.”
“Thanks.” The shorts in question were black with small, vibrantly colored aquarium fish on them.
Finally, Garibaldi gave a sigh, sat up, and pulled his shorts and trousers back on. He slid the belt out and tossed it over the side of the bed, but left his pants unzipped. “My butt’s getting cold,” he explained, propping himself up against the headboard. Ivanova was laughing. “Hey, no mocking the audience,” he teased. “C’mere.” He reached for her arm to pull her up to him. “Come on, lemme hold you.”
She acquiesced with a tolerant snort of wry amusement, snuggling back against his bare chest so he could embrace her. She was quite naked, but his hug was more affectionate than sexual, his chin nuzzling her neck. “John loves you, you know,” he murmured. “I can see it in his eyes.”
“I know,” she said contentedly. He understood why she said nothing more, and kissed her shoulder warmly.
The bathroom door opened, and Sheridan came out, presumably cleaner than when he had gone in. He took in their pose on the bed, and held out his hand, palm toward them.
“Hold her like that,” he said in a rough voice, and stalked over to the bed. Garibaldi raised his head, intrigued by Sheridan’s demeanor as the man came onto the bed with them. Garibaldi and Ivanova both watched him push his way between their legs, holding Susan’s thighs to begin kissing and nipping at her belly and breathing warmly on her loins.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Ivanova asked him with a wry smile. Without a word, Sheridan plunged his tongue into her, engulfing her sex with his hot, wet mouth. She gasped in surprise and ecstatic shock, arching back against Garibaldi, who held her delightedly.
“Three guesses,” Garibaldi growled into her ear, and laughed when she cried out. He came to understand very quickly why John had commanded him to hold her; she writhed like a chained fury, head craned back on his shoulder, voice tearing from her in howls of pleasure. He loved it, loved her strength, loved feeling her tremble and twist in his arms, pressing back against him. She had both hands curled around his thighs tightly, and even John’s careful torment did not last more than a minute or so before she wailed in hungry release with his tongue playing with her.
She was breathing hard when her voice finally went silent, collapsed completely against Garibaldi, eyes closed. She swallowed as if to speak, but just panted, gulping for breath. Garibaldi laughed softly, just holding her. Sheridan sat up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. He looked very smug and satisfied.
“I love doing that to her,” he confided to Garibaldi, who grinned.
“I think she did, too,” Garibaldi said. “Do you guys have some sort of a record for that?” Sheridan nodded.
“Thirty-eight seconds,” he said.
“Thirty-seven,” Ivanova corrected breathlessly. “And I was already aroused when you started.”
“What about this time?” Garibaldi asked, only half-seriously. Sheridan opened his mouth to reply.
“Oh, who the hell cares?” Ivanova panted. “It was great. It was mind-blowing. Michael, you’re fantastic.” He hugged her sensuously and she purred.
“I have got to go to bed,” Sheridan moaned, looking around for his clothes and putting them on one piece at a time. “I need to sleep alone for a change.” Ivanova grinned. He paused and looked at them. “And before I wake up out of this wondrous dream I’m having,” he said quietly. Garibaldi smiled faintly.
“Thanks, John,” he said. Susan moved to wiggle gently out of his embrace.
“I gotta go, too,” she said. “Besides you look like you need to be alone to recuperate.”
“Get my sanity back, you mean,” Garibaldi sighed. She grinned as she got dressed. Sheridan stood quietly back, waiting for her. “You guys are the best.”
That look on Sheridan’s face again, calm, evaluating, predatory. A sated lion contemplating future prey from a lazy vantage point.
“Michael,” he said. “I really appreciated this. I’m glad to find out we can do this. Maybe…we could get closer as time goes on.” Garibaldi shivered. He swallowed but was all seriousness when he replied.
“I’d like that,” he said. Ivanova finished adjusting her trousers, and with a silent glance from Sheridan, the two of them left Garibaldi’s quarters.
When the door closed, Garibaldi flopped face down on the bed with a groan. “I’m insane. This is too good to be happening.” He started to laugh, weary, elated, happier than he could remember being in so very long…
He drifted off to sleep, still in his clothes, with the dampness of his semen on the bedcovers drying underneath him. Sometime in the night, he pulled the blanket around him and hummed softly, content.
****
Ivanova lay awake that night, gazing up at the ceiling in the dark, thinking about what she and John and Michael had done. Sleep somehow seemed an unwelcome escape; she wanted to dwell on the sweetness of what had happened to her, what she had heard in both men’s voices. She hadn’t been able to watch most of the time, being busy pleasuring John, but what she heard had inflamed her so much that when Sheridan had come out of the bathroom and plunged his tongue into her, coming had been so easy and so violent…
She shivered under the covers, rubbing her hands down her flanks and thighs on her silken pajamas. And Michael had been at her back, holding her, strong and warm. He smelled good, different from John but so male. She remembered his voice in her ear, growling, his voice earlier when John had coaxed his orgasm out of him. She knew what John meant about how Michael sounded when he was close. Soft whimpers, groans, naked pleading in the noise but never becoming words. And when he came, breathless grunts and wrenching, soft cries that made her groin throb just remembering them. God, what must he look like, to sound like that?
She realized she was trembling, one hand pressed between her legs. She swore and shoved her pajamas off so she could touch herself better. She wanted a cock in her, wanted to fuck. But she didn’t know whether it was John’s or Michael’s cock she hungered more for. She had caught a glimpse of Michael’s when it was hard, right after she had pulled away from Sheridan. It was a big cock, thick and long. And when he had come, those long, arcing streams across the bed into John’s hand…
She had both hands between her thighs now, growling softly. Two fingers went inside her, then three. God, she was so hot, even after what John had done earlier that night. She could still smell Garibaldi, feel his arms around her, strong, hairy chest pressed into her back. She’d felt his cock in his trousers, too, still thick, pressed against her buttocks.
When her climax came it was like a storm ripping through her, no gentleness or warmth in it. It was all flame, burning her from within, and it was Michael’s cock fucking her. She laughed as the orgasm rose even more and she howled.
****
Sheridan awoke the next morning to the sound of his own laughter. Smiling, he opened his eyes and rolled over. He’d dreamed about Susan and Michael, both of them pleasuring him. Susan had been sucking on him, licking and nibbling his cock without letting him come. He had taken out the frustration and delight on Michael, who had been kissing him luxuriously. Sheridan had gotten Michael’s trousers open and was fondling him. God, he was so big! That was one thing that made Sheridan ache; Michael’s gorgeous, thick cock. His desire for it had gotten the better of him and soon he was sucking Michael while Susan sucked him. He could still feel Michael’s hand in his hair, stroking, while Michael bucked gently into his mouth, swearing softly. That thick cock had spurted heat into his mouth, coming, coming for him and Michael had groaned and whimpered as he swallowed.
And Sheridan awoke laughing to the bliss of it.
****
2 Days Later:
Garibaldi leaned against the dugout, watching Sheridan bat at the plate.
“Home. Run. One hundred forty-seven yards. Average velocity: one hundred eighteen miles per hour.” Sheridan wasn’t aware of him yet, and he took the moment to just observe, taking in Sheridan’s strength and grace, his effort and focus. There was such control in his poise, a soft grunt escaping him when he swung at the pitch. “Home. Run. One hundred twenty-two yards…”
Sheridan was gorgeous. Garibaldi felt the realization like a wash of flame in his chest and throat. It was a strange moment of comprehension. The past few months had been delicious beyond hope, and two days ago Sheridan and Ivanova had invited him closer to them in a sexual bonding that had left him with joy in his heart ever since. He felt it now, looking at Sheridan. Felt the greater blaze of personal desire that had gripped him that night when Sheridan had urged him to come on his hand.
The pitching machine went still as Sheridan stepped back out of the batter’s box and onto the grass, breathing deeply, gazing with contemplation out over the field beyond the foul lines.
“You’re better at that than I am,” Garibaldi said, coming away from the dugout. Sheridan started and looked over at him. Then Sheridan smiled slightly, an open, unconscious expression of enjoyment of Garibaldi’s presence, not to mention his close-fitting trousers and dark gray, metallic shirt.
“Guess I’m just better’n you,” Sheridan drawled. Garibaldi snorted.
“Yeah right,” he said. Sheridan started to step back up to the plate. “Um, John…” Sheridan paused on the grass expectantly. “Can we talk about something?”
“Sure,” Sheridan said, picking up on the other man’s anxiety and excitement. “We can talk about anything you want.” Sheridan’s openness and calm made it easier, and Garibaldi drew a deep breath.
“This is harder than I thought.” He sighed and tried again. “I’ve always been more attracted to women than men,” he said. “Though there’ve been certain men who were…well…good candidates. All my life I’ve wanted a man to make love to me, but I never seemed to find the right one. Either he wasn’t attracted to me, or he was too rough, or untrustworthy, or just plain not my type if he was perfect in every other way. I have to be able to trust a man before I can let him fuck me. It’s not quite the same thing with women. Do you understand what I’m getting at?” His plaintiveness made Sheridan smile although Sheridan took him very seriously.
“I think so. You’re a virgin with men and you’ve been looking for the right man to lose it to.”
“Yeah,” Garibaldi said, hands deep in his pockets. A pause. “And I think you might be the right man.” Sheridan swallowed, just looking at him for a long moment. Then he tossed the bat away with both hands. It hit the grass with a solid thump.
“I hadn’t realized it would be that significant an event for you,” he said. There was a much longer pause as he was quiet for a few moments, just looking at Garibaldi. Then he drew a breath — suddenly — as if strangling. “I’ve been…” His breath caught on the emotion lodged in his throat. “Dammit I’ve been wanting to make love to you for the past five months but I didn’t know how to tell anyone…not you or Susan.”
“Would Susan object?” Garibaldi asked. Shit, he hadn’t even thought of that. “I mean…would she be upset that you and I are attracted to each other?”
“No,” Sheridan said wonderingly. He kept telling himself this situation should be more casual, and not so full of breath-shaking, aching apprehension. Was there fear in it somewhere, too? And love? Oh, God, love… “She wouldn’t. We talked about it a few days ago. She said she wanted me to pursue it if I wanted to…”
“My God,” Garibaldi muttered. Sheridan let out a breath of amazement.
“I know,” he said. “But it seems like it’s just as well since you weren’t sure until now. I wouldn’t have wanted to push you.” Garibaldi nodded.
“I’ve kinda been thinking about it lately…hoping, you know? But now that I’ve decided, and you obviously want to…I think…” Garibaldi swallowed. “I think I want you to push. Hard.”
“Really,” Sheridan said in a low voice. He walked over to Garibaldi slowly, visibly taking him in, thoughtful. “And how hard would that be?”
“I don’t know,” Garibaldi said. His own voice had an edge in it now. He could smell Sheridan, clean sweat and aftershave, and the scent made his groin burn. “How hard do you get?” Sheridan laughed a short laugh of fascination and arousal.
“I think we could find out,” Sheridan said, reaching up to stroke Garibaldi’s face, drawing fingers across his jaw and mouth. Garibaldi turned his head into Sheridan’s palm, responding reflexively to the shock of the touch. He swallowed as Sheridan smiled ferally and clawed nails lightly down his throat to the edge of his shirt collar. Sheridan started to unbutton the dark gray shirt, fingers trembling. Garibaldi, surprised, took Sheridan’s hand to stop him.
“What are you doing?” he said incredulously.
“What do you think?” Sheridan replied wickedly.
“We can’t do this out _here_, Jesus — ” Sheridan grabbed at him as he started to pull away, holding him by the hips to press their groins together.
“Why not?” Sheridan laughed roughly. Garibaldi gulped, painfully aroused suddenly in spite of his nervousness.
“Because somebody might _see_ us, dammit,” he said, twisting out of Sheridan’s grasp. He discovered he was trembling. “John, Christ, you want to know how much you turn me on? I’m actually _considering_ letting you fuck me on the grass in the infield.” Sheridan moved toward him again, lips parted in unconscious pleasure and need, but didn’t touch him.
“What could I say that would persuade you?” he asked, eyes glittering. The voice was like distant thunder. Garibaldi lifted a warning finger.
“Without lube, nothing. You try to fuck me without some kind of lube and I’ll kick your ass into the next sector.” Sheridan licked his mouth consideringly, pushing into Garibaldi’s personal space until Garibaldi could feel the heat of his body.
“Manufactured lubricants weren’t invented until the eighteen hundreds,” Sheridan pointed out with a teeth-baring smile. “And even once they were, people didn’t always have any when the mood would strike.” He breathed softly across Garibaldi’s throat, their mouths only centimeters apart. Garibaldi was visibly shaking, trying to control his breathing. “I think we’ve got enough spit between the two of us.” Garibaldi was sure, somewhere deep down in his gut, that Sheridan was perfectly serious about fucking him right then and there.
“Yeah, well I’m not giving you any of mine,” Garibaldi said. He started to back away to put some distance between himself and this man who made his cock ache in his trousers, hard and quivering. Sheridan lunged after him, not letting him get away. He grabbed Michael’s arm and pulled the man back to kiss him, ravenous, devouring his mouth passionately. When Sheridan grabbed him, Garibaldi had gone as far as to put his hands on Sheridan’s shoulders with the intent of shoving him away forcefully (and then punching him in the mouth), but when John’s mouth touched his, his anger vanished like mist. Surprised, inflamed, his hands moved down to touch hesitantly at Sheridan’s sides. Then he was embracing John completely, lost in the magnificence of Sheridan’s desire for him.
Sheridan dragged him down onto the grass, covering the other man’s body with his own. It was so good, so satisfying to have this pleasure finally after so long of wanting. Sheridan was rumbling low in his throat, and when he broke away from Garibaldi’s mouth to kiss wetly down the side of his neck, Garibaldi felt a growl tear out of him from deep in his chest.
“John,” Garibaldi panted. His blood was like fire, heart racing, groin throbbing. “John, cut it out. Somebody’ll find us. I know you’re an exhibitionist but I’m _not_ and if we get caught, I’ll…I’ll…” Sheridan’s mouth under his jaw made him forget what he was going to say. “John…dammit…”
Sheridan’s mouth was liquid flame on his throat, searing him to the soul. He wasn’t consciously aware of the moment he made the decision to surrender, but he whimpered softly.
Sheridan felt something change, felt the resistance melt away like ice in the sun, and Michael’s arms went around him eagerly, the mouth under his responding fully to him. It was more desperation than he had ever felt in Susan, more raw abandon even than the moments he had heard Susan whisper words that shocked him to the core.
//Oh, God,// Sheridan thought. //He’s letting me. After talking about trust, and other men being rough, and choosing me after God knows how many years of wanting this, he’s going to let me do it right here and now, in spite of his terror of being seen in a public place, and being afraid of me hurting him. God…Jesus…//
Sheridan released his mouth to look down at him, stunned by the wild depth and passion of the reaction he had elicited. Michael’s eyes opened to gaze back, and they were completely open, straight to his heart.
“If I fucked you right now, you’d let me, wouldn’t you?” Sheridan asked him softly. Garibaldi swallowed hard, and Sheridan could feel his heart pounding where their bodies pressed together under Sheridan’s weight.
“Hell yeah,” Michael whispered. “As stupid as that sounds. I guess it makes me look easy. But right now? The way this feels? Yeah, I’d let you.”
“And you’d hate yourself for it later,” Sheridan said. “And me.” He shook his head. “I won’t do that to you.”
“I knew there was a reason I trusted you,” Michael said quietly. Sheridan backed off of him and stood, putting a hand out to help Garibaldi up.
“I’m glad you did,” Sheridan said. He looked suddenly lost. “I didn’t trust myself just now. I didn’t…” He looked away. “My God, I don’t even know myself half the time anymore, much less anyone else. Michael, Jesus — ”
“Don’t apologize,” Garibaldi said. “If you do you’ll be denying what you just did, and I don’t want that. John, believe me, if I were more experienced, and less modest, dammit…” He sought the ground with his eyes.
“You’re not easy, are you?” Sheridan murmured.
“What?”
“Before, when you said it made you look easy for you to give yourself to me like that. But you’re not. Not ever.”
“No,” Michael said quietly.
“Fuck,” Sheridan whispered in pure amazement, his eyes dropping to the ground again. “And you want _me_?” he said, raising his eyes again to Michael’s calm openness. “You want me..?”
“Yeah, John,” he said again, still so gently. “Yeah, I do.” Sheridan closed his eyes for a moment, trying to reclaim some equilibrium.
“The way I’ve been the past few months,” he said finally. “It’s new to me. Hell, that’s not true. Nothing new about it at all. But it didn’t used to be _real_ like this.”
“Something brings it out,” Garibaldi murmured. Sheridan nodded.
“Yeah. You do. Susan does. And why now? My God, maybe we can only go on needing for so long before we start to instinctively see how those needs could be met by other people. You and me, a voyeur and an exhibitionist? Christ, Michael. And Susan…”
“Susan makes you hurt just looking at her,” Garibaldi said. “I’ve seen the way you get. Like you can’t even hold all the emotion she makes you feel and it spills over.”
“I’m in love with her,” Sheridan whispered, looking at the ground.
“I know,” Garibaldi said. “I can see that, too. Why’s that so bad?”
“She doesn’t return it,” Sheridan said. “Not the way I feel it.”
“Yeah, I…know that, too,” Garibaldi murmured, and Sheridan looked up at him. The look in John’s eyes was such anguished longing. “I think you need to give her more time. People never fall in love at exactly the same time. And she’s been burned more than you have. Believe me, John, you’re exactly the type to fall in love with. I’d bet everything I own on it.”
They looked at each other for a long time, Sheridan’s expression calming into something falling between muted amazement and gentleness.
“Thanks,” he said at last. He let that subject go as another drifted forward, urgent in his belly. “You’re going to think I’m crazy,” he said, “but it turned me on when you fought back.” Garibaldi smiled faintly, an expression of buried, heated interest.
“Oh yeah?” Garibaldi said. “No wonder you got aggressive when I started resisting. You get off on it.”
“Guess I do,” Sheridan said, rubbing at his stomach as if nauseous. He swallowed. “It scares me sometimes. Been like that pretty much all my adult life. It’s more intense with some people than others. And you…you scare me with how much you make me feel it.”
“Good,” Garibaldi muttered, making Sheridan stare at him. “Maybe you’ll start showing me whatever it is that I can feel missing when we’re together. You hold back from me.”
“So do you,” Sheridan said. Sheridan caught a glimpse of terrible loneliness in Garibaldi’s eyes before the other man looked away. He realized what an isolated life Michael led.
//God,// Sheridan thought. //Reduced to peeping on securcams for some kind of pleasure and sexual release when it’s so obvious now that he desperately needs to be _with_ people. Until two days ago he still only watched even with Susan and me. And then when I invited him onto the bed he responded so intensely. Damn. He needs a proper fuck, and hell if I won’t give him one.//
“Hey,” Sheridan murmured, moving close to him to run fingers down his chest to his groin, squeezing briefly between his legs. Michael shivered unexpectedly — a ripple of surprise up his spine. “How about I come to your quarters tonight and we do this right?”
“Just you and me?” Garibaldi asked. Sheridan’s brief fondling of his crotch had set a hot ember burning there, straining.
“Voyeurs are traditionally a little paranoid about being watched themselves,” Sheridan mused. “And I don’t want you to be thinking about anything but _my_ hands, _my_ cock, and _my_ mouth.” The look on Michael’s face was quietly, profoundly amazed. “So you go back and get ready for me. I’ll be there at twenty hundred.”
“Okay,” Garibaldi swallowed. “You know, you have no idea how hot I get thinking about you,” he whispered. “Damn, I’ll be lucky if I don’t come the second you touch me.” Sheridan grinned.
“That might be interesting,” Sheridan said. “Twenty hundred hours, Michael,” he warned, moving away back to where he had dropped his bat what seemed like centuries ago. He gave one more backward glance, grinning, before leaving the baseball field.
Garibaldi rubbed his face with both hands.
“Oh, man,” he muttered. Then he went off to get ready.
****
He had put his favorite sheets on the bed — the soft flannel ones that made him think for a short time that he lived like a king. The lavatory was subtly adjusted to accommodate two people, and he tidied up self-consciously.
It seemed so sudden, yet he had spent many years working up to this moment. Once upon a time he had been filled with both excitement and terror at the prospect of meeting a man who could finally fill this desire. He had tried initially to squelch the terror, but it returned anew with each subsequent man he met who might be the one. And then there was the strange relief/disappointment of deciding that the man was not the right one, and he kept searching.
He’d been watching Sheridan for more than two years now, both inside and outside his bedroom, and had learned some sweet and delicious things in both arenas. As a captain he was exemplary — authoritative, firm, rational, open to reason and not afraid to correct a mistake even if it made him look foolish. Yet he was not a brusque or unkind commanding officer. He expressed concern for those under his command, was sensitive to their moods and acted to smooth ruffled feathers and ease tempers without appearing to have done so. On Babylon 5, the world moved on Sheridan’s word, paused when he paused, seemed sometimes to breathe with him, and hold that breath gently when he slept.
Garibaldi didn’t often get the chance to see Sheridan really as a man and not his CO. But those nights (and days! God!) when Sheridan unwittingly bared all for him on the securcam, he learned a more private aspect of Sheridan’s nature. Sheridan truly seemed insatiable. Even accounting for unusually good luck in choosing his moments to spy on the man, Garibaldi seldom tuned in to a session that _didn’t_ involve masturbation sooner or later. Garibaldi usually didn’t masturbate along with him, since sitting at his desk was an awkward position that tended to inhibit his orgasm. But Sheridan showed no such inhibition, whatever position he was in.
There had been one time, one of the first, when Sheridan had come off duty and, still in uniform, had barely let the door close before dropping to his knees in the middle of the floor, holding himself between his legs. Garibaldi had watched, open-mouthed in amazement, as Sheridan, humming and growling to himself, had rubbed and fondled his groin, then dug a hand in while the other worked at his belt. Garibaldi had spied on a lot of people in his career, and no one had ever shown such incredible, candid sexuality, even in private. It was almost like a performance, but there was nothing fake about it, no pretense or self-consciousness in Sheridan’s demeanor. Just pure pleasure in his own body, in his ability to arouse himself. Sheridan had gotten his trousers open, exposing his red, swollen cock, using his other hand feverishly to take off his uniform jacket and fling it onto the floor behind him. He had unbuttoned his white shirt, but never got as far as actually taking it off, seeming instead to be overwhelmed by his sexual need and doing what had to be done to get his trousers and briefs out of the way so he could pleasure himself. Head thrown back, white shirt open to bare a sleek belly and muscled chest, Sheridan had lost himself to the flame of ecstasy. Growling, moaning, talking in half-phrases in a guttural voice, he had finally yelled his release, and made a delicious mess on his trousers and hands that still haunted Garibaldi late at night.
He returned to the front room of his quarters, anxiety twisting in his stomach like butterflies…and hawks and lions and jackals and God knew what else could be rampaging around in there. He was fully dressed. There were, he knew, certain pleasures to be had just in undressing someone, or being undressed. But he had something particular in mind for Sheridan, something he knew the other man would enjoy even if he had never thought of it.
Garibaldi sat down on the couch, head leaned back against the cushions, trying to relax and not show himself for an utter, weak-kneed slave in John’s grip. That was what burned in him; that submission. But he knew it was not easy submission that Sheridan wanted, and he intended to make John howl before the night was done.
There was a demon in Sheridan’s belly. It was ripping steel-tipped talons along the inside of his gut. He hadn’t realized until confronted with this opportunity how completely he needed it. It set fire to instincts and urges long dormant — things in him that had slept because had they remained awake and unsatisfied, they would have driven him mad.
In his marriage he had learned that he would not have those yearnings answered, and they had slept. But alive now in his heart, knowing that an outlet was at hand in not one, but two, lovers, he had found a peculiar sort of agony. Sweet, oh, it was sweetness. Like pain, but he would have gone to terrifying lengths for this exquisite clawing in his belly.
He reached Garibaldi’s quarters trying to control his quivering breaths. Something struggled for release in this crucial moment as he reached for the door signal. The door opened after a moment, and he stepped inside. The lighting was sparse. Certainly enough to see but not at all glaring. He was glad of it, drawing a deep breath that seemed to fill his chest with heat.
Michael was there, leaning against the countertop, arms folded. There was something oddly challenging about the gesture, and Sheridan repressed a growl. Garibaldi must have seen something in Sheridan’s eyes, because his expression changed suddenly.
“John?” he said. Sheridan grunted questioningly, a black, heated noise.
“I think I’ve just…been wanting this for a long time,” Sheridan said finally. There was a flicker of a smile, joyful for just an instant. “Wondering if it’ll be as good as I hope. Knowing somehow that it will. Something about you…about this…”
“You worried about losing it like you did on the baseball field?” Garibaldi asked, moving toward him. Sheridan drew a calming breath against Garibaldi’s intense presence. He nodded faintly.
“Yeah,” he said. There was still something violent in his blue eyes, firmly held but not very far under the surface. “I suppose I am.”
“I like you like that,” Garibaldi said. He was extremely close now, his body heating the air between them. Sheridan swallowed, looked for a moment like he might step back, but he held his ground. “I like to see you be uncivil for a little while.”
“Just be careful,” Sheridan said unsteadily. “You’re already making me crazy just standing here and I don’t know what my limits are.”
“John Sheridan out of control because of me,” Garibaldi mused softly. “Yeah, I think I could definitely go for that.” Sheridan actually bared teeth at him, halfway between a grin and a snarl.
“Didn’t you get enough of that watching me on the securcam?” he asked roughly. He reached for Garibaldi’s face and neck, touching him sensuously, just savoring it. The skin under his palm was smooth. Michael had shaved for him. He smiled and saw Garibaldi’s puzzlement. “I’d think you’d prefer me to be easy on you considering that this is your first time.”
“John,” Garibaldi said, visibly aroused by Sheridan’s hand on his throat. The fingers were like a brand on his flesh, making his heart beat hard against his ribs. “The issue has never been gentleness.” That made Sheridan’s eyebrows rise. “The issue’s that you do what _I_ want rather than what _you_ want. I trust you. And if I tell you I want to see you wild, then you do it, right?”
Sheridan was breathing hard, inflamed by the words, working on the buttons on Garibaldi’s shirt, determined to get this man naked and get on with what pounded low in the back of his mind, like drums. Garibaldi’s hand came up to stop him, much like before on the field, but the grip was gentler. “I want to see you this time,” he said. “Strip for me.” Sheridan licked his mouth, wide-eyed.
“What?” he said, not believing he had heard right.
“I think you heard what I said,” Garibaldi replied. “Strip.” Slowly, Sheridan’s surprise hardened into something much darker, like breaching a door into a hidden place in his soul.
Sheridan stepped back from him, feeling fire spread out into his hands and toes. He couldn’t breathe suddenly, and had to deliberately draw breath. It quivered as it moved past his throat, and there was a flood of warmth up his back as he became aware of Michael’s eyes on him.
“You like looking at me?” he wondered, his voice like suede over an iron core. One of his hands drifted down to his own crotch, thumb rubbing idly. “Huh?” He grinned, and saw Michael react to it, mouth opening unconsciously. The response, the ache in Michael’s eyes, inflamed Sheridan violently and he began to strip — not for Michael, but for himself. His clothes seemed to burn as he slid his copper patterned shirt from his shoulders, the air cool relief on his skin. Garibaldi had admired his musculature once, and Sheridan saw that lust again in the other man’s face, his hand clenching at his side. Sheridan leaned down to take off his shoes.
Garibaldi’s witness was like the finest knife into his gut, twisting sweetly until Sheridan thought he would scream with the intensity of what roared inside him. He was breathing hard as he worked at his trousers, sliding them down — sliding his own palms along his thighs — and holding Michael’s eyes because there was such stark rapture in them. Sheridan had never felt such delicious satisfaction; Michael’s gaze was more than the desire of someone who liked to watch. It was the hunger of a lover, the barely reined lust of someone who wanted _him_. And Michael started to move toward him, shyness and hesitation broken by the sheer, feral pleasure that stared at him out of Sheridan’s magnificent eyes.
“John,” he groaned, reaching out with one hand. Sheridan kicked his trousers away viciously, naked except for his gray socks, and closed the little remaining distance with a half-snarl on his face. He grabbed Garibaldi’s outstretched hand and pressed it to his own warm, bare chest.
“You want to touch me, huh?” Sheridan whispered in a hiss, taking Garibaldi’s other hand and putting it on his stiff cock. Michael groaned and fondled him unashamedly. “You want me, Michael?”
“God, yeah,” Garibaldi managed in a strangled growl before Sheridan kissed him passionately, consuming his mouth with fire. Sheridan pushed him back toward the bedroom, fumbling at Garibaldi’s belt. As they passed the countertop, Garibaldi grabbed something from it and pressed a small container into Sheridan’s hand. “Use this,” he mumbled between hard kisses. Sheridan took it tightly and Garibaldi found himself with his bed against the back of his legs. Sheridan had his shirt open and was caressing him, tasting his mouth savagely and growling. “You sound like a starving lion someone let out of its cage,” Garibaldi grunted, laughing as Sheridan bit his neck. He realized suddenly that his trousers and shorts were around his ankles.
“I feel like one,” Sheridan snarled and shoved him down on the bed. He took advantage of Garibaldi’s momentary surprise to pull the man’s shoes off and get the trousers and boxers away from him. Everything went on the floor at the foot of the bed, and Sheridan crawled into bed with him, finding his mouth again in a sensuous, obscene licking that made Garibaldi’s cock strain, hard as iron. “You gonna give me this, huh, Michael?” Sheridan hissed, biting down Garibaldi’s neck, down his chest to engulf one nipple wetly. Michael whimpered and arched up against him, pressing his cock into Sheridan’s thigh. “Open your legs for me.”
Sheridan pulled back to find the lubricant he had dropped onto the bed when they had arrived in the bedroom, and was surprised to see Garibaldi roll over onto his belly, offering his firm, muscular ass.
“John,” Garibaldi moaned. He swallowed hard. “Please. Please…” Sheridan’s eyes widened and he got the small tube in his hand open, covering two fingers with the slick gel.
“Oh, won’t I just,” Sheridan hissed, abandoning the tube and moving between Garibaldi’s legs to put one firm hand down on Michael’s back and stroking the other between his buttocks to find his anus. He wiggled one finger in and Michael lifted his hips, groaning. “God, you have a gorgeous ass, you know that?” A second finger slid in and suddenly Michael was writhing beneath him.
“Oh yeah, John,” he whimpered. “Oh yeah…” Both hands clenched into the bedcovers, breathing hard through an open mouth, Michael twisted and groaned as Sheridan’s fingers fucked him. It only made the hunger for the real thing more intense.
Garibaldi wondered distantly what had happened to his resolve to not give this so easily. Wasn’t he going to resist a little? Fight back and make Sheridan work harder to get it? That determination had faded in the face of Sheridan’s magnificent nakedness, and flamed to ashes under Sheridan’s mouth. He wanted to surrender it, to be devoured by Sheridan’s raw power and need. It was so good, John’s fingers inside him, giving him a taste of what a cock would feel like. He had worried about being able to take a cock, even though he had practiced in anticipation of this moment. Now he didn’t care. He wanted John’s cock in him, and whether it hurt or not didn’t matter a damn.
Sheridan was chuckling, awed by Michael’s utter submission, wildly aroused by the way he gripped the bedsheets and panted. He wondered if Michael were actually beyond speech, and then realized with a sharp, cold shock that Michael was whispering his name, over and over, breathless and desperate.
“Hell and damn, Michael,” Sheridan whispered back to him. “You want my cock? Why wait any more.” He pulled at Garibaldi’s shoulder. “But turn over. I want to watch you while I fuck you.” He pulled his fingers out and turned Michael onto his back gently. Garibaldi obeyed, panting, looking at him with complete trust and desire.
Garibaldi felt his heart leap into his throat when he saw Sheridan’s face. There was no unthinking animal there staring back at him. Instead he saw a hungry, aroused man, mouth open, teeth bared, eyes hot. It was the most terrifyingly delicious look he had ever seen on anyone’s face, and he knew he had made the right decision in choosing John. Sheridan was stroking lubricant onto his cock quickly.
And then John leaned over him, pressing between his legs, hands on either side of his shoulders on the bed. He felt the gentle nudge of John’s cock against the opening to his body, and his breath caught.
“Ready?” John asked him softly, looking down into his eyes, breath quivering.
“No,” Garibaldi said, his own voice hoarse. “But do it anyway.” John pushed firmly. Michael made a soft noise and something gave. “God, yeah, John,” he said in a strained whisper. John was trembling, sheathing himself slowly, trying not to do it hard or fast. Oh, Jesus, and he wanted to…wanted to ram his cock home and just fuck until he howled. He felt sweat trickle down his face and held Michael’s eyes.
“Yeah, you want this?” he asked softly, his own voice hard with the effort of holding back. “You want my cock?”
“God damn it, John,” Michael groaned, closing his eyes for the barest moment. He was holding Sheridan’s buttocks, loving the sensation of them clenching as John pushed into him. “God, you’re so good. So big, ah — ” His face twisted in a grimace, and John paused.
“Does it hurt?” he asked. Michael let out the breath he had held. He nodded sharply.
“Yeah,” he said in a strained voice. “Oh, God, but it’s the best kind of pain. The best kind of pain, John, oh, Jesus…” John buried his cock in Michael’s body in one final, long thrust, savoring the groan of pain and longing that tore out of Michael’s throat.
“Damn, you’re something, Michael,” Sheridan whispered, not daring to move for a long moment, amazed by the man under him. Michael didn’t look away; held his eyes steadily, trying to share everything with him.
John started to move, aware of every tiny flinch and grunt Michael made, aware of Michael’s hands on his back, coaxing him, pulling him in an urgent, gentle fucking.
“Yeah do it, John,” Michael breathed against his mouth. “Fuck me. God, I’ve wanted this so bad. Didn’t want to tell you. Even…even before we started all of this…with Susan…I wanted you. God, I love both of you so much.” He closed his eyes briefly, realizing what he had said. “Damn, John, I love you. Didn’t even know it until a few days ago. Fuck — ah, fuck me, please, oh…” Sheridan pressed firmly into him for a moment, then pulled back to move gently, letting Michael’s words settle heavily in his belly.
“Oh, Michael,” Sheridan whispered. He couldn’t say it back, not and be sincere. He didn’t say those words easily or lightly. He understood suddenly how Susan must have felt.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Garibaldi shushed him, touching his mouth to stop him from trying to say something that would only have been futile. “Don’t say it unless you mean it. You don’t have to be in love with me. We’d miss out on a lot if we had to be in love with everybody we made love to. Actually, I think I want your friendship before anything else.”
“Michael,” Sheridan groaned, bowing his head to kiss Garibaldi warmly.
“Your friendship and your lust,” Garibaldi gasped, laughing, as Sheridan broke away. Sheridan laughed too, growling and thrusting hard to watch the reaction.
“Oh, you have both of those,” Sheridan hissed, savoring Michael’s open-mouthed shock.
“So stop holding back,” Garibaldi murmured, rubbing Sheridan’s slowly clenching buttocks.
“But I don’t — ”
“John,” Garibaldi said, “I know what’s in you. I can see it in your eyes. Don’t worry. Just let go. Please. Show me who you are, John. Show me everything.”
Sheridan leaned forward a little to press himself deep, muscles in his arms and shoulders quivering with the strain. He let out a tense breath, trying to relax his own inhibitions, consciously freeing a restraint that had been in place for so long he wasn’t sure if he could let go of it.
Then he rolled his hips, thrusting, and Garibaldi felt something warm inside him shiver. Sheridan opened his eyes and all Michael could do was drown in them.
“Oh, God, John,” he breathed, reaching up to touch Sheridan’s mouth, rubbing his lips and stroking his tongue briefly in awe. John licked his fingertips softly, fucking slowly, intensely. Every push was the sweetest, burning sword filling him.
“I’ve wanted to do this to you for so long, Michael,” Sheridan whispered as Garibaldi drew his wet fingers down Sheridan’s throat. They were both starting to sweat, breathing hard. Sheridan grunted roughly, a sound of such relish that Michael grinned at him.
“Sounds like you’re — ah — enjoying this as much as I am,” Garibaldi gasped.
“Damn, you don’t know,” Sheridan moaned. “I never felt anything like this. Oh, _God_.” His hips were quivering as he thrust, and he swallowed a gasp. “Michael…Michael I don’t want to hurt you but I can’t hold back any more. Please, oh, sweet God…”
“Go on, John,” Garibaldi said, touching his mouth and holding onto his arm with the other hand. “You won’t hurt me. I know what you wanna do. It’s okay.” He choked back a cry when Sheridan rammed hard into him suddenly, teeth clenched and bared. It was the most magnificent look on John’s face for just a breath, and then Sheridan started to buck. Slowly, urgently, the pace and ferocity of it began to build and build, and John’s voice broke into the room with a curse.
“Oh, fuck, Michael, I want this,” he hissed. “I want you. God, you’re so — ah, Jesus, I can’t — ” He groaned loudly, everything turning to flame inside him. Michael was hot beneath him, sweating, grunting every time he bucked. There was such love and desire and raw, primal need in Michael’s eyes that it made him hurt. He closed his eyes, crying out softly with each thrust.
“Look at me, John,” Garibaldi hissed, taking his chin firmly and Sheridan started, looking down into the open desperation of the man he was making love to. “Come on, yeah. I love the way you sound, Jesus, come on. Look at me and let me watch you.” Sheridan licked his lips and swallowed repeatedly around his own deep-throated groans.
“Gonna come into you,” Sheridan growled. “Gonna fuck you good like you should be and make you scream…damn, Michael, I shoulda done this a long time ago…come into you…done this right…”
“Yeah, talk to me, John,” Garibaldi hissed, stroking his lips with both hands, teasing at his tongue with gentle fingertips until John sucked on them, breathing hard, bucking into him savagely. “Talk to me. God, I love your mouth.”
John’s sweat dripped onto his throat as John’s voice broke into vulgar, incoherent whispers and pleas. Michael stroked his mouth and face and shoulders, sometimes holding onto him tightly, urging him.
“Come on, John, let it go. Let go into me. Now, do it now. Come on, now, John, fuck me hard…”
“Know what I’m gonna…what I’ll do to you when I…oh, Michael, so close, I’m gonna…” Sheridan was bucking desperately, his voice like fire in Michael’s chest. “Gonna come into you…bet you won’t though…gonna wrap my tongue around your big cock and make you…come…gonna make you come for me…”
“You close, John?” Garibaldi laughed, grunting sharply as Sheridan slammed into him, faster and faster. “Yeah, you close, huh?”
“Oh I’m gonna come,” Sheridan wailed, a full-throated yell that made Michael’s gut clench deliciously. “Gonna do it, oh yeah, please, so fucking good…shoulda done it a long time ago, oh, Michaelllll..!”
“Yeah, go on,” Garibaldi whispered as Sheridan’s scream drowned the room in savage, howling noise. Every muscle seemed clenched taut, his hands clawing into the bedcovers by Michael’s shoulders. Garibaldi could feel John’s cock surging inside him, pulse after pulse. “Yeah, do it baby.” He rubbed his hands up John’s arms eagerly, loving this more than he ever imagined.
Then Sheridan drew a breath, and another yell came out of him, this one joyful and raucous.
“HA! HhhhhrrrrrrrAAAAGGGGGhhhh!” He kissed Michael deeply, laughing, kissing down his throat to taste salty sweat.
“Christ, John,” Garibaldi gasped, grinning broadly. “You’re a fantastic fuck.” Sheridan let himself down onto his elbows so he could take Michael’s face in both hands, smiling joyously.
“God, you’re the fantastic fuck, Michael,” he breathed. “Talking to me like that, the way you’ve been acting all these months. Damn you make me crazy.” He kissed Garibaldi again, and then, all in a rush, he pulled back and his cock slipped out. Michael gasped and moaned at the loss, but felt his heart start to pound hard when John settled between his legs, looking interestedly at his swollen cock. “Ahh, you didn’t come,” Sheridan murmured, grinning. “Good.”
“John, what’re you — ” A tongue flicked out to dab softly at the underside of the head of his cock, and lightning shot into his toes. “Oh, fuck, John…”
“Yeah, good,” Sheridan rumbled, and suddenly the tongue was a flurry of light, delicate licks up and down the shaft. Garibaldi exhaled shudderingly.
“Johhhnnnnnn…” The tongue flickered into the hole at the tip, and for an instant he thought he would come right then, and then it faded softly, making him writhe. Sheridan’s hands took hold of his hips to keep him still. Sheridan moved a little, shifting on the bed, and then warm, wet lips took his cockhead in, tongue drawing quick, hot circles on the tip. “Ohhhhhh dammit don’t stop ahhhhhhh…” That tonguetip in the hole again, flickering, probing, so hot. “Fuck you’re making me come John oh yeah making me commmmmmaaaaAAAHHHHH!”
Michael’s cock filled his mouth with hot come, making him swallow quickly to take more. Sheridan hummed deep in his chest, loving this thick cock in his mouth, just like his dream, and the long, hard surges just kept pulsing, and he swallowed again, rumbling pleasurably.
It seemed to go on forever, his cock letting fly, John’s mouth around it, impossibly good. John swallowed every drop, even sucked the last of it out of him, tongue probing gently into the hole for a last taste. Then John let him go, and his cock flopped onto his belly stiffly.
“Damn, you come a lot,” John muttered, grinning.
“Only…when I’m…really…turned on…” Michael panted, looking at him, astonished. “God damn, John…that was so…oh, I never had anything like that.”
“Good,” Sheridan murmured, still smiling. He moved up on the bed to kiss Garibaldi’s throat. “Good. I’m glad you liked it.”
“Oh, fucking understatement of the decade,” Garibaldi moaned. Sheridan rolled onto his back tiredly, heaving a great sigh. After a moment, he craned his head back to look at something on the wall and started to laugh. “You laughin’ at my duck?” Garibaldi asked him teasingly.
“You have to admit his expression is perfect for what we just did,” Sheridan chuckled. Garibaldi glanced up at the black poster. It was Daffy’s head, eyes wide, mouth open in a silent scream, with sweat droplets flying away from his head. Garibaldi laughed.
“I guess it is.”
“Oh, man,” Sheridan sighed. “That was so fucking good. I should’ve done it sooner. But I…I didn’t know how to ask, I guess. Hell, I don’t know.”
“Sooner wouldn’t necessarily have been better,” Garibaldi said, rolling onto his stomach to rest his chin on folded arms, watching John calmly. “I told you; I wasn’t ready. I’ve been thinking about this…about you, for a long time. If I’d been ready before, I would’ve said something. Somehow.”
“It was what you wanted, then?” Sheridan asked, looking over at him. “I kind of…got in over my head…I think…”
“Yeah, John, it was incredible. Exactly what I wanted. More than I’d hoped for, really.” He shivered suddenly. “Shit, I didn’t know you wanted my cock like that…” He saw Sheridan swallow.
“I dreamed about you the other night,” he said quietly. “The night after…after I asked you onto the bed with me and Susan. She was sucking me and you were sitting up by my shoulders, just kissing me. I was fondling you…finally couldn’t take it and I had to have your cock in my mouth. Yeah, Michael, I love your cock.”
“Then you plan on doing more things to it, I hope,” Garibaldi grinned.
“Oh, count on it,” Sheridan said.
“You want to stay here tonight?” Garibaldi asked him. “I’d love to have you in the shower with me.” He said it wickedly, and Sheridan purred.
“Wouldn’t say no for the world.”
****
Garibaldi lay propped up on his side, watching Sheridan sleep. There was a relaxed serenity on Sheridan’s face, not too much unlike the look he had gotten when Garibaldi had surprised him on the baseball field. He glanced at the clock. It would be time for them to get up and go on duty soon.
He shifted closer to Sheridan in the bed and rubbed one hand over John’s bare shoulder, relishing the relaxed musculature and softly haired chest. When Garibaldi leaned down to nuzzle a kiss into his neck, he stirred, purring quietly.
“Time to get up and run the station, Captain,” Garibaldi murmured. Sheridan growled irritably.
“God, it’s not time already, is it?” he mumbled.
“‘Fraid it is,” Garibaldi said, pushing his mouth through Sheridan’s soft hair. Sheridan hummed more agreeably this time, and finally rolled over to rub his eyes.
“Urrmmmm, I haven’t slept that well in days,” he said. He opened his eyes, and the first thing that focused in his vision was Daffy’s head up on the wall. He broke into a guffaw and Garibaldi sighed tolerantly.
“You wanna shower first?” Garibaldi asked. “Or do you wanna just lie here and laugh at my duck?” Giggling, Sheridan rolled out of the bed to stand up and stretch nakedly.
“Sure,” Sheridan said, rubbing both hands back through his hair. He got about three steps before Garibaldi came up behind him in a sensuous bearhug, and they were very nearly late for duty.
****
Ivanova watched Sheridan saunter casually around the upper deck for about the fifth time that hour.
Sheridan had definitely caught something. Had stalked, chased, pounced and got it in his teeth. Now he was parading around just looking for a chance to tell Ivanova about it, whatever it was. She sensed it in all the pauses in their business chatter, saw it in the way he hesitated when walking by her in C&C. At one point their discussion had turned personal, and he had been about to speak when his link interrupted him.
The whole day went like that — Sheridan on the verge of telling her something that made his whole being light up with joy, and then being interrupted by _something_. Finally he just quit trying, exasperated, and much later, when she had a break, she found him in his office.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” she said with a faint smile. Sheridan looked up from his desk, baffled.
“I did?” he said, looking a little worried that he might have given an order and then completely forgotten about it.
“You’ve been trying to tell me something all day,” she said. “So, I’ve got a break and I told the staff that anyone who bothers you in the next twenty minutes will become an involuntary organ donor.”
Sheridan breathed a laugh. That joy peeked out again, hesitant, gentle.
“God, I — ” He smiled. “Now that I’ve got the chance, I don’t quite know how to say it.”
“You can be blunt with me, remember?” Ivanova reminded him with a grin, alluding to the much starker nature of their lovemaking sometimes, especially when Sheridan got loud.
“Yeah,” he said, glancing down, oddly shy. Then he looked back up. “I was with Michael last night,” he said quietly, eyes shining. Ivanova grinned.
“You mean ‘with’ in the Biblical sense?” she asked. Sheridan nodded.
“Oh, and how,” he sighed. She leaned forward eagerly, arms folded.
“So how is he?” she wondered. Sheridan smiled shyly again, a little surprised by her interest, somewhat aroused by it as well.
“Oh, he’s the sweetest fuck,” Sheridan whispered, putting his hands together at his mouth.
“Sweeter than me?” Ivanova said, one eyebrow quirked.
“Susan — ”
“I’m teasing, John,” she said, grinning. Then she looked a little embarrassed. “Is, uh, is he as big as I remember from three days ago?” Sheridan just nodded. The gesture had an interesting emotional tenor, not quite arrogance, not quite pride.
“Hung like a bull,” Sheridan said in a low voice. “And I don’t know about you, but just the thought of it makes my mouth water.”
“Huh, you and me both,” Ivanova muttered.
“Mm?” Sheridan said and she raised her eyes to him again. Intrigue and mischief touched his face briefly, turning up the corner of his mouth. Then he looked a little dismayed, too. “You’re not jealous…are you?” he asked quietly. Ivanova looked startled.
“Jealous?” she repeated. “No, I don’t think so. Besides, I’d have a lot of nerve being jealous and then turning to you asking if you’ll share him with me.” She swallowed her sudden temerity, looking shocked to have just blurted it out like that. Sheridan’s grin widened.
“Why Commander,” he said. “How brazen of you.”
“Shut up,” she muttered. “I feel like such a tramp.” Sheridan burst out laughing.
“God, what does that make _me_?” he exclaimed.
“Horny?” she ventured, then laughed. “I think that goes without saying, though.”
“I didn’t think you were really that attracted to Michael,” Sheridan said, wondering how the observation would be received. They didn’t really speak directly of that aspect of their relationship.
“I wasn’t,” she said. “I mean, Michael’s always been my friend. A really close friend. When the three of us got together the first time, I wasn’t turned off. But I wasn’t really that interested in him sexually, either.”
“So what changed?” Sheridan wondered, genuinely curious.
“Everything,” Ivanova said weakly. She shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable to be talking about it. “He’s just…closer. To me. To us. I feel more for him than I did. I love him, I guess. The same way I love you.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, Sheridan softly looking like his joy might spill over into the world. Then he got up and moved around his desk to embrace her, holding her to him fiercely. She put her arms around him. “I love you, John,” she said quietly. “It terrifies me to say it. It always does. Seems like everybody I love dies so I figure as long as I don’t say it out loud they won’t go away.” She was silent for a moment in his arms, breathing slowly.
“It’s all right for you to love me,” Sheridan murmured. “It’s all right for you to love Michael. You know…Michael loves you, too. He told me last night.” He felt more than heard Susan’s soft breath of amazement and then she backed away from him to meet his eyes.
“Really?” she said. She swallowed and glanced away again, gaze tracing across the bottom of the gray triangle on the right breast of his black uniform. “Guess lots of things have changed in the past three years.”
“More than I ever thought just in these past five months,” Sheridan said softly, touching her cheek. “I think about that first time a lot, when we had to do it in front of the Lumati Ambassador. How bold you were to just start undressing me like that, God.” He grinned. Ivanova breathed a laugh, a little embarrassed.
“After getting a taste of you, I couldn’t just go on pretending like it hadn’t happened,” she muttered. “Not when I would look at you across the deck in C&C and remember the heat in your eyes when I stuck my hands down your pants…and how hard you already were.” Sheridan touched her lips lightly. She wasn’t even aware of how she looked just then. He grinned.
“You only got a glimpse of Michael’s cock, didn’t you?” he said, startling her. “When you drew back from me.” She nodded after a moment.
“Yeah, I…didn’t get as good a look as I wanted…” Sheridan chuckled.
“We should get you a closer look, then. Much closer.” She hummed softly, still not looking at him, but the sound was one of soft relish. “I’ve got an idea.”
“Oh, do tell,” Ivanova murmured. Sheridan grinned.
****
When Garibaldi came off duty it was almost nineteen hundred. He was tired and sweaty. A busy day today, running around all over the station overseeing a dozen petty little disturbances. A quieter day than they had sometimes, but certainly not a lazy one. He wasn’t sure what he liked better; the times he spent all day dealing with bar fights and pickpockets, or the days he spent doing absolutely nothing until a Psi Cop walked into his office wanting something. He shuddered. That had only been the beginning of Bester giving him the heebie jeebies.
The comm panel on the wall was blinking at him that he had messages. He went over to it, shrugged wearily out of his uniform jacket.
“Play messages,” he said.
“You have one message from John Sheridan,” the computer said. It flickered to display Sheridan, with his office as the background. He didn’t looked like the Captain in that moment, in spite of his uniform. It was John who was talking to him.
“Hope you get this in time to do anything about it,” Sheridan said. “If you get this message before twenty hundred, Susan and I would like to have you tonight — ” Garibaldi shivered; oh, such smoldering heat in that voice. ” — and not as a bystander. As your commanding officers, though, we have orders for you. You will shower, change clothes but not wear shoes. Wear a shirt that has snaps on it. When we arrive at twenty hundred you will be kneeling on the bed waiting for us, facing the doorway. When this message ends, link in and tell me whether or not this is a good night to do this. Use the regular code.” He moved as if to terminate the recording, then paused. “Oh, and we’ll bring the blindfold.” A glimmer of wickedness in Sheridan’s eyes before the recording ended and the screen blacked briefly before returning to a main menu display.
Garibaldi was shaking. He took an involuntary step back from the viewer. His cock was like a steel rod in his trousers. He lifted his link to his mouth, suddenly ready to face another full day.
“Garibaldi to Sheridan.”
“Sheridan.”
“We’ve got a green light, Captain,” he said, keeping his voice even, as if talking about some kind of confidential security project the Captain might have given him. Sheridan’s reply was just as casual.
“Roger that, Chief.” And the link went silent again.
Garibaldi couldn’t get his clothes off fast enough as he headed for the shower.
****
Garibaldi came out of the shower, fumbling for a towel and standing in the middle of the bathroom drying himself off, rubbing his face soothingly into the soft towel. What was it about this that made his mind rage distantly, gibbering in terror and excitement and joy? There had been other times…other…
He caught the doorframe with his hand as he tried to make it into the bedroom. He was shaking violently, adrenaline and shock flaming in him. Christ, oh, Jesus Christ. Sheridan’s face in that message…so much like the way Sheridan had looked at him three days ago when he and Susan had come to him here and invited him onto the bed. That hungry look in fiery, sapphire eyes, Susan’s own gray eyes on him like a wolf for the barest instant when she’d pulled away from John after they had both climaxed. He’d seen something in her face in that moment, something that made the hair on his neck stand up.
And the way Sheridan had worded it…”Susan and I would like to have you tonight, and not as a bystander.” They didn’t want him to watch, didn’t want him to remain in the shadows, or even at the edge of the bed like before. He was instructed to wait in the middle of the bed for them, to be the center of attention in this, whatever it was going to be. And a blindfold..? His trembling almost wouldn’t let him reach the bed at all. He climbed onto the covers, breathing quiveringly and thinking about what he would wear. A shirt with snaps… He swallowed hard and closed his eyes for a moment. No, don’t think about it too much. You’ll go mad that way…
In a flurry of insane motion, he scrambled off the bed again to get dressed the way he’d been told to. Shit, even thinking about _that_… Boxers, socks, trousers, belt. What shirt? He went through a half a dozen before picking one. He put it on and fastened it, tucking the tails into his trousers. Why was he so sure that it was going to be Ivanova who pulled them out again? He shuddered, able to imagine her hands on him, lightly tickling his sides as she undressed him. His cock swelled tightly in his pants, trembling as it became erect and started to ache. His mind flashed back to John flicking his tongue across the shaft, and a spark of electricity in his groin made him twitch. His hard penis shivered again, straining.
“Fuck, they’re not even here yet and I’m going nuts,” he mumbled, going back to the bed to kneel on it. They’d arrive in another few minutes, and he closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. His heart pounded in his chest, deafening him even in the silence of his own head. He sighed softly, clenching his hands to keep them away from his groin.
When the doorchime sounded a few minutes later, he started violently. He rubbed his sweating palms on his thighs.
“Yeah, enter.” He heard the outer door open, then close. Soft booted feet on the carpet approaching the bedroom, and then Sheridan appeared in the doorway. He stood with that cool, hard-eyed look, in black trousers and a deep, blood-red shirt with a small coppery pattern on it. Just a breath later, Ivanova appeared from behind him, walking into the bedroom as John just stood there. She kept her gaze on Garibaldi as she turned to walk in front of Sheridan, gray predation in her eyes. She licked her mouth lightly and Garibaldi let out a slow breath. They reminded him of nothing so much as the alpha pair in a pack of arctic wolves; one just looking, still, the other pacing softly, both of them with eyes like razors. His cock shivered.
Sheridan took something out of his pocket, a length of black fabric folded in on itself. He opened it out in his hands, smoothing it with an odd caress.
“Put this on,” he said, tossing the blindfold onto the bed right between Garibaldi’s knees.
Sheridan was conscious of Ivanova’s restlessness. He knew what she wanted, knew what burned in her chest and belly, what made her lick her lips when she saw Garibaldi kneeling on the bed, exactly as he had been instructed, waiting for them. The nervousness and excitement on his face, in his entire posture, made everything flame sweetly for Sheridan. He took the blindfold out of his pocket and threw it into Garibaldi’s lap, telling him what to do with it. The man flinched almost imperceptibly and hesitated for only an instant before reaching out to take the black cloth and tie it around his head, covering his eyes. He was visibly trembling, obviously having to concentrate to get the thing tied properly. Sheridan grinned viciously, watching Susan pace the floor quietly. There was an enormous bulge in Garibaldi’s trousers, stiffly outlined by the soft fabric. Susan couldn’t take her eyes off of it.
“Make sure you can’t see a thing,” Sheridan told Garibaldi in a low voice. Garibaldi swallowed hard. “Peeking isn’t allowed.”
“Blind as a bat,” Garibaldi muttered. “Promise.”
//Yes,// Sheridan thought. //And like a bat, your sweetest knowledge of the world now will be what you hear.// And the other senses were definitely not to be ignored, oh, indeed not.
Almost as soon as he reassured Sheridan of his blindness, Garibaldi heard both of them suddenly move toward him on the floor. He tensed, and the mattress dipped from two directions. One presence was very close on his left, and moved up to him quietly. He swallowed hard, and jerked as a soft touch connected with his jaw, stroking down his throat. Ivanova. He shuddered, unconsciously lifting his chin to let her touch his neck.
The other weight on the bed, Sheridan, moved in, a little more thoughtfully, consideringly. They were both silent as cats on the hunt, and when two strong hands closed on his shoulders, Garibaldi knew he wouldn’t have had the nerve to allow them here tonight if he had known in advance how intense and wrenching this was going to be. He couldn’t keep calm, shivering with each intake of breath, his cock so hard and so big he couldn’t believe his trousers could hold it. Truth be known, it was a strain, everything tight, his heart racing…
“Do you trust me, Michael?” came Sheridan’s low, hoarse voice. The question, paradoxically, made his heart leap with terror.
“Yeah, John,” he whispered, swallowing. Two more hands touched him, opening his shirt one snap at a time, making him start.
“And me, Michael?” It was Ivanova’s husky voice this time, rich with…something. A desire. A need. A sound escaped him as she pulled his shirt open to bare his chest, and touched one of his nipples lightly.
“Fuck,” he whispered, so softly. “Yeah, I trust you, Susan. Have to don’t I?” He giggled soundlessly, his anxiety and arousal and pleasure rising in him like an unbearable pressure from inside his belly, coming out of his throat in a soft laugh. His left nipple was pinched hard, suddenly, and he gasped, strangling on his own laughter. His cock jerked at the flash of heat.
“Yeah,” Susan whispered back to him. “You do.” The adrenaline flush from his nipple spread outward slowly, like cold water, leaving a delicious tingling behind it.
“Oh, fuck,” he whispered.
Sheridan held Garibaldi’s shoulders as Ivanova opened his shirt. Garibaldi’s eyes were covered, but so much expression came from the rest of his face. His half-open mouth, telling deeply of wonder and anticipation and fear — oh, delicious fear! Sheridan felt his own cock pulse gently in his pants, responding. Ivanova touched a nipple on Garibaldi’s furred chest, and his head moved restlessly, tongue coming to the front of his teeth for an instant before he closed his mouth to swallow.
“Fuck,” he said, in a voice that was very small and very amazed. “Yeah, I trust you, Susan…” He laughed, almost hysterically, a quiet, breathless giggle that Sheridan understood very well. The sound of a man on the verge of being out of control and loving it so. Then Susan had pinched his nipple and Sheridan had seen his cock flare in his trousers. Oh, he was so ready…
Garibaldi felt Susan’s hand withdraw, and both of them shifted on the bed slightly, John to the side but not letting go of his shoulders. The masculine strength of those hands kept him anchored, gave him a place to rest against while Susan made him want to withdraw in on himself in an orgy of quivering bliss. A sensation of warmth near his chest made him hold perfectly still, and he felt soft breath across his breastbone, through the coarse hair. It was Susan…oh, God, it was –
Something wet and hot and flickering settled on his nipple, the one that had been pinched. Her mouth oh her tongue oh God licking him sucking on him. He moaned torturously, leaning his head back, a high, desperate sound. Another warm presence of breath at his side, against his cheek — John — and he was being slowly, luxuriously kissed on the jaw, the neck, his earlobe sucked on tightly. He was panting, hardly able to breathe at all, and then someone’s hand lightly brushed over the straining, swollen hardness in his pants. It must have been Susan’s — Christ, he didn’t think it was possible for him to get any harder…
“Susannnn,” he moaned, “John, dammit please…please please please please…” He couldn’t believe he had said both of those names in one breath, that they were both here, doing this, pleasuring him, driving him insane with lust. His hips moved suddenly of their own volition, buttocks clenching in a reflexive need to move, to fuck, trying to get closer to Susan’s hand where she delicately outlined his cock, her touch feather light. She wouldn’t let him make the contact stronger; just kept moving her hand to torment him, delicate, sweet. Ripples of sensation, going hot and then cold in waves, radiated out from where she was sucking and teasing his nipple. “Please God you’re driving me crazy dammit I’ll come in my pants if you keep doing thaaaaatohhhh.”
“No you won’t,” came Susan’s rough voice. “And that’s the worst part.” She chuckled, an infinitely evil, lecherous noise. “I can drive you to the brink, but not over. Higher and higher — ” Garibaldi gave a trembling, loud moan of sweet pain and lust.
“Fuck, I’ll get you back for this, Susan,” he groaned. “I’ll get you…back…” John growled close to his ear, sending fire into his cock.
“Time to pay the piper,” he hissed, and Garibaldi felt himself pulled around by John’s powerful grip, pushed down onto his back. Sheridan’s weight on his shoulders kept him down. Then he felt hands fumbling at his belt. The added pair of hands was such a strange sensation, even more now than before, and he bucked. His trousers were opened; he heard more than felt the zipper go down.
“Oh yeah Susan please oh God yeah do it…do me…”
Ivanova waited impatiently while John got Michael down on his back. He was so gorgeous. They both were. Michael quivering and anxious and horny, so horny. She hadn’t believed the size of his cock at first, rock hard in his pants when she had stroked between his legs. As the truth of it settled into her belly like molten steel, she knew she had to have it. That cock was hers, woe to anyone who got in the way.
And Michael, on the edge of wildness yet allowing the torture he was being subjected to…_that_ made John’s eyes flame. She’d been fascinated to see it, his white-knuckled grip on Garibaldi’s shoulders, kissing his neck and jaw slowly, licking with such relish. Garibaldi couldn’t see John’s face, but she could. His mouth was open, as if to devour something, his expression afire with an absolute, blazing ecstasy almost like rage. The kind of emotion that you didn’t interfere with or were annihilated.
Now Michael was being held down by that emotion, the muscles in John’s back bunched where his dark red shirt pulled tight across his shoulders. John was trembling too; Michael must be able to feel it. The legs and hips beneath her writhed and bucked as she dragged his pants off, his voice murmuring to her, begging, pleading. She saw John’s own flanks quiver, like a nervous stallion’s.
“Hold still,” John growled. The voice was pure threat, hot and low. Susan felt a shudder of her own ripple up her spine.
“Trying to, dammit,” Michael whimpered. “Can’t…it’s so…God I want it…Susan please please please…” His trousers and boxers were off and she dumped them over the side of the bed, taking a moment to rub her hands up his legs and admire his ruddy cock. She exhaled unsteadily, a sigh of admiration and eagerness. He was very big, but not so much so that it was impossible to do anything with. It was a delicious sort of big, that made her imagine hot, milky semen shooting out of it, Michael’s voice howling. It was incredibly hard, too, straining in its own skin, veins standing out up the shaft. Thick and long…possibly too big for one person to handle, and that was the idea here tonight. Michael bucked tensely as she leaned down to breathe her way up his thigh, trying to be still, his buttocks clenched tight. “Fuck me, Susan,” he whispered hoarsely. “Suck on me, lick me, _anything_ _something_ oh please dammit I can’t take thissss — ” His voice strangled as she breathed over his testicles, flicked her tongue out lightly to touch them. “Aaaaahhhhh…” She thought he would pass out when she ran her tongue up the length of the shaft. It flared out to meet her mouth, trembling, head swollen darkly. It had a prominent crest, and she drew her tongue around the perimeter of that ridge. Michael swore savagely.
“John,” she murmured. A pause, and the quivering stallion shifted on the bed after delivering an admonishment to Michael.
“Stay put.” John came and bent down low on the bed, his hand settling on the top of Michael’s other thigh, gaze taking in the length of Michael’s cock with hungry silence. She met his eyes for a moment, seeing some kind of furious, magnificent truth about him in his sapphire gaze before he moved to nuzzle his mouth into Michael’s testicles, licking them slowly.
“OH, fuck _me_!” Michael howled. “God dammit John! YEAH!”
Susan felt for John’s hand, and he clenched it tight, waiting for her silent signal. She squeezed hard –
As one, Susan’s mouth engulfed the shaft of his cock and John’s mouth took his balls completely in, an enormous, mind-blowing instant of being _consumed_. He bucked hard, unable to control it, unable to stop.
“Ahh! Ahh! AAAHHHYEEEEAAAAAHHH!!!” He didn’t come — not yet oh Jesus! — It was more intense in itself than any orgasm he’d ever had…more violent than any teasing, any blinding, swift masturbation he’d ever done on himself. He forgot who he was, forgot everything except who _they_ were, two mouths on him, eager, luscious, so wet… “Oh God dammit John…Susan…please please please PLEASE — ” John pulled away from him suddenly, hand clawing down his belly in a flare of pain.
“Beg, Michael,” John snarled at him. “Beg for it. Come on. Can’t have it unless you beg.” His balls ached for more of John’s mouth, quivering, sweat covering him, pooling in the hollow below his breastbone.
“Please John,” he groaned, then whispered. “Please John suck me. Suck on my balls, lemme feel your tongue on ‘em. John, you’re so good, please do it, please, God, your mouth makes me crazy — ” It was enough; John sucked his balls in again lavishly, stroking them with his hot tongue. But Michael didn’t stop pleading. “Yeah just like that John oh fuck Susan you’re gonna make me come…I can feel it…it’s gonna be so big…”
There was a growl from John, and a sudden shift of weight on the bed. The delicious mouth left his balls again and he moaned. Then it was on the shaft, with Susan, both of them trying to take his cock. John made a savage noise, almost of surprised pain, and there was briefly only one mouth on him. He realized abruptly what was going on — they were _fighting_ over him, each wanting to taste him when he came. Oh, holy God…
Ivanova had had to grab Sheridan by the hair to get him to stop getting in her way. Michael’s cock was _hers_ right now, by God, and John was not going to take that away from her. John snarled at her, startled, and she understood the depth of his need. He didn’t want to usurp, just to share.
“Share?” she panted to him, offering a compromise. Sheridan held her eyes briefly, then nodded, licking his lips, and they went back to it, taking turns sucking on the head, rubbing a tongue around the crest, while Michael whimpered and bucked. They had to both hold him down, and John laughed low in his throat.
Susan was taking her turn sucking on Michael’s testicles — she would never have dreamed he was so sensitive there. They were big, like his cock, and she believed John’s story suddenly about how much he came. John’s hand touched her shoulder, pulling on her, and she realized that Michael was close, gulping for breath, incoherent. And John wanted her to have the first taste of him. She felt a flash of deep affection for John, and moved to take her place as John withdrew but stayed close, breathing across Michael’s belly.
“Come on, Michael,” John rumbled. It was a soft chant, urging, and Susan felt it in her own body like pulses of warmth. “Come on, that’s it, come on Michael — ”
“Susan oh Jesus gonna come in your mouth,” Michael gasped suddenly. “Gonna come oh yeah take it..!” The first surge hit the back of her throat hard, salty and male. It was quickly followed by a long, rich spurt during which Michael yelled like nothing she’d ever heard, exuberant and wild. Then more and more, hard, pulsing, filling her mouth with heat. She took all she could hold, gulping some of it down, and drew back swiftly to let John have his fill.
John’s mouth instantly replaced hers, hungry, and he moved on the bed to get into a position facing Michael’s legs, sucking greedily as Michael bucked and howled. She watched John swallow, then again, his face baring such naked relish, his eyes half closed in concentration.
Garibaldi wasn’t entirely sure when the orgasm ended. For that matter he wasn’t sure when it had started either. It had been one huge, long, drawn out sweetness from the moment they’d come into his quarters tonight. Someone’s hand was slowly, gently stroking his hair. He felt like a solid pool of sweat, panting and weary.
“Like that?” came Susan soft whisper close to his ear. He fought down a giggle, didn’t entirely succeed.
“Oh yeah. Hell yeah.” His voice came out a broken whimper. “God damn it…”
“Shh,” she said quietly. He sensed something secretive in her suddenly, and curiosity flared in him. He realized that John seemed to have vanished from his senses, except that he could smell… “I’m going to take your blindfold off,” Susan murmured. “You’ve got to see this.”
She pulled the black cloth over his head, and he blinked, then sat up at her urging. He started to rub his eyes, and froze.
There was a panther in the room with them. Panting softly, bent over to keep one hand clenched into the bedcovers, John had moved to the other side of the bed. His trousers were open and he had the other hand inside them, moving urgently, slowly. A low growl came out of him, and didn’t stop. He raised his head to meet their eyes, and rose up on his knees arrogantly, inviting the attention. There was nothing civilized in his face, nothing but a man’s pure sexual pride and hedonism in the blue eyes, in the lips drawn back from canines that should have been so much sharper.
Michael started to move, but Susan’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.
“Just watch,” she said in a strained voice. “Let’s just…watch him.” Garibaldi realized she was trembling, her hands clenched. She half-glanced at him. “Michael…would you…”
“You want me to do something for you?” he finished softly, smiling. “I’m kind of sweaty…”
“Don’t care,” she sighed as he reached around her front to unbutton her blouse. “Just get these clothes off me.” John was excruciatingly aware of them; it was plain in his eyes. He gave a soft laugh as Michael helped Susan get her trousers off, and suddenly John was the only one so conspicuously clothed. He didn’t seem much concerned about it, though, his shirt open, trousers and briefs pushed down around his knees so he could fondle himself.
Susan had pushed herself back against Michael, and he shifted his legs to put them around hers. She didn’t seem turned off by his sweatiness. In fact, she leaned her head back on his shoulder and kissed his damp neck, then licked slightly. “You taste good,” she murmured. “In more places than one.” He was holding her arms, smiling.
“What would you like?” he asked softly. She took his hand from her arm and put it down between her legs. She was extremely wet, and pushed against him when he stroked a finger lightly over her clitoris.
“Please, Michael,” she groaned. “Don’t pick now to become shy on me.” He pushed two fingers into her suddenly, making her gasp deeply. John laughed wickedly from where he knelt, kneading his cock. “Oh, do it Michael, yessss…” His thumb took up the stroking of her button and she writhed. “Fuck YEAH!” she yelled. John was thrusting gently into his own hand now, gripping his cock tightly, watching them.
Garibaldi met Sheridan’s eyes and then jerked his chin slightly in a ‘come here’ gesture. Sheridan raised both eyebrows questioningly, but suddenly seemed to get the idea. Michael knew he had guessed right when Susan tensed in his arms.
“John, what are you — ” Michael’s fingers distracted her and she groaned desperately.
“You want him to come on you?” Michael murmured in her ear. She bucked against his hand, gasping. “Want him to come for you? Just for you? Huh? Wanna watch him let go on you, on my hand with my fingers in you?”
A long, snarling flood of guttural Russian told him he had nailed it, and John laughed, gasping.
“Hell yeah, she does,” John said, astonished and determined. “And God would I love to.”
“Go on, John, do it for her,” Michael hissed. That panther in John’s eyes, every line of his body, a snarling beast that began to moan as Susan watched him, riveted.
“Oh baugh, da, pazhalsta,” Susan groaned, leaning her head back briefly to kiss Michael’s neck again.
“Look at me,” John commanded in a growl, and Susan had to obey, drawn by the hypnotic voice.
“Can’t hold on,” she warned, gasping, “Michael, Jesus — ”
“I can’t either,” John groaned. He held her eyes fiercely. “Etau dlyah vas, Suzotchka,” he whispered. The words inflamed her.
“Yeah, John…pazhalsta…do it…” Michael’s stroking thumb, and fingers deep inside her, made John’s eyes even sweeter when he groaned her name, his musculature standing out strikingly for an instant, and his trembling cock poured white heat over Michael’s hand where it covered her, splash after splash, on her thighs, on her sex, her belly. She watched, savoring, so close it was like a river of flame. Michael hummed softly, clearly enjoying it. “Baugh,” she groaned. “Baugh, ya prihaudht…prihaudhtdaaa tyehpyehr, Johnnnn!” Michael chuckled softly against her neck, his hand like fire in her sex.
“Hurmm, Suzotchka,” he murmured, and she screamed. John moved in like lightning to bite her throat as she leaned back, making her yell choke. She swore violently, half in Russian, half in Interlac. Then Sheridan drowned her howl with a kiss, covering her mouth feverishly to taste her, one hand on her shoulder, the other gripped hard around Michael’s hand where he had two fingers plunged into her sex. Sheridan was helping, adding his thumb to Michael’s on her clitoris, pushing another finger inside to join Michael’s two. She tore her mouth away from John’s with a full-throated roar and John howled a laugh, loving this, loving Michael’s shock and delight.
They all toppled down on the bed, Michael on his back with Susan on top of him. John followed, keeping his hand in place through the fierce, trembling grip of her sex as her orgasm ran its full course. She was mumbling in Russian, breathless, as the trailing end of the flood passed her by and they were all hot and panting on the bed.
“Come on, love,” Sheridan gasped, pulling on Susan gently. “Get off of poor Michael. We’ll suffocate him.” Michael was laughing wildly. He helped Susan up and she sat there, dazed, her head in both hands, still whispering in Russian. She reached for Michael suddenly, taking his face in her hands.
“Michael,” she said softly. More Russian tumbled out, whispering, fierce, the same words over and over.
“Susan, I don’t understand,” Michael murmured, holding her hands to his face.
“It means ‘I love you,’” John said quietly from beside him. Garibaldi glanced at him, wide-eyed, saw John’s quiet grace, the half-smile on his mouth. So he took Susan in his arms, hugged her.
“I love you, too, Susan, oh God.”
Sheridan didn’t bother to translate the rest — what she had been saying when she sat up. He only caught parts of it, but what he understood made him shiver: //…love both of you, can hardly stand it…didn’t know I could scream like that and then scream some more…too much to hold…so good…//
And Michael just held her like that for a long time, rocking her gently as shes sobbed into his shoulder, overwhelmed. They slept together that night, all of them in the bed in a comforting, warm tangle. Susan whispered sometimes in the night, in soft Russian.
“I love you.”
End Story IV