kageygirl: (sanctuary will angled)
[personal profile] kageygirl
So, [livejournal.com profile] shetiger wanted something non-explicit to doodle on, and I told her to write me some kissing. And she wrote One and One and One is Three, and it was awesome.

And then I had to tell her she was a very bad influence and I hated her, because the point of telling her to write me some kissing was not, in fact, to then go and write her the porn sequel myself, what the hell. I fail at command.

Ahem. Sanctuary, Helen/Will, Henry/Will, incidental Helen/Henry, NC-17, 1200 words and one facepalm.

Summary: Strange things happen on the threshold between "the night before" and "the day after."

Sequel to [livejournal.com profile] shetiger's One and One and One is Three.

Unearned Luck

Waking up is a slow drift, impressions seeping in like ink drops spreading through water. Hard surface. Warmth. Voices, low, close by. Something faintly tickling his chest. On the whole, it's pleasant, and he lets himself float.

Gradually, the voices resolve into words. "You think so?"

"I have my suspicions."

They're voices he knows, good voices. Nothing to worry about here. He sighs, and the faint tickling stops. "I think he may be waking up." That's the lighter voice, buzzing against his ribs.

"I think he's already awake, and faking it." This one rumbles along his other side, deeper, and he squirms into it.

"That's hardly charitable." There's movement, and then warm lips brush his jaw, tickling through his stubble. "Are you awake, Will?"

He draws in a deep breath and opens his eyes to see Helen leaning over him. Her face is soft with sleep, her hair tangled over her shoulders. She's beautiful in the early morning light, and when he reaches out to cup her cheek, she leans into it, eyes slipping closed.

On his other side, Henry's got his chin propped on the back of his hand, his hand resting on Will's chest, watching them both avidly. Will looks between them and says, "No, I'm pretty sure I'm still asleep."

Helen leans down toward Henry, her hair half-hiding her face. "He thinks he's still asleep."

Henry glances at Will, just a quick eye movement, and then looks up at Helen, licking his lips. "Well, if he's still asleep, that means none of this is really happening, doesn't it?"

"It would seem to follow," she says, and the two of them share a look that would have made Will hard, if he weren't already there.

Helen shifts and presses a kiss to the center of Will's chest, then another, higher, and a third to the bare skin above his shirt. But it's Henry who takes his mouth, all prickly beard and raw, thrilling power. Will almost doesn't notice Helen slipping free the buttons of his shirt, but then she licks a path below his navel, hand rubbing up his denim-covered thigh, and he gasps at the overload.

Henry whips around, staring at her. "Hey, you're distracting him."

She leans over to kiss Henry, then, and Will watches Henry's face soften. Will runs a hand up her side, over her breast, and thumbs her nipple, and Helen arches, her hips moving restlessly. She breaks away from Henry and leans back over Will, devilry in her eyes. "Wouldn't want you to wake up too soon, William," she says, and pins his wrist down, the message clear.

Will flattens his hand against the floor, and she rewards him by swirling her tongue around one nipple, teasing the other with her nails. Henry palms him through his jeans, and Will moans.

Henry looks across at Helen. "That's a good noise."

"It is," she agrees, and slides herself up his torso. The warm silk of her blouse over his bare skin is intoxicating as she settles in to kiss him again.

Henry pops Will's fly open, and Will's hips jerk, but he keeps his hands to himself as Henry draws his dick out. Helen threads her fingers through Will's, and when Henry swallows him down without preamble, he squeezes hard, groaning into Helen's mouth.

They're going to kill him, that's all there is to it.

Helen breaks away and kneels up, keeping hold of his hand. He thinks she might suck on his fingers again, and he's not sure he can take that, but instead, she breathes across the back of his hand, then blows on it, hot, cold, hot, cold. She does the same to the backs of his fingers, and he realizes he's breathing in rhythm with her, as she sensitizes his skin, until his hand is nothing but sparks of sensation.

Then she brings both their hands down to her crotch and presses in, rubbing herself against his knuckles, and he almost forgets to breathe entirely.

He has to look away from her face, but Henry's no better to look at, not with the way he's staring at both of them as he goes down on Will, fisting his own dick as he watches. When he sees Will looking down, he pulls off and mouths Will's balls, then drags his beard up Will's dick, and Will drops his head back to the floor, panting up at the starry ceiling in amazement.

So going to kill him.

Helen brushes her fingers over his mouth, and he looks back at her, at the flush painting her cheeks. "Don't drift," she murmurs, and then her mouth drops open, her eyes hooding, and she grinds hard against his hand.

Will pushes frantically at Henry's shoulder, but Henry out-and-out growls, and then Will's coming in his mouth, his shoulders slamming into the unforgiving floor.

His spine might never be the same again.

He looks up in time to see Henry bare his teeth and make a guttural, animal noise, spilling across the floor, and it's all too much. He covers his eyes with his forearm and breathes hard for a minute or two.

"I think we broke him," Henry says, at Will's shoulder again.

Helen responds from his other side. "I think you're right."

"Not broken," Will says, and god, is that his voice? He coughs, and tries again, dropping his arm. "Not broken. Just... temporarily offline."

"Oh, good," Henry says, grinning at him, and Will tugs at the back of his neck until Henry kisses him, Will's own taste lingering in his mouth. Henry backs away, and then Helen slips into his place, leisurely exploring his mouth, careful scientist that she is.

He keeps his eyes closed as they settle in beside him, and this time, he recognizes the faint tickling as Helen drawing absent circles on his chest.

Sleep is starting to tug at him again, when Henry's voice comes from beside him. "Do you think he'll remember this when he wakes up?" Playful, still, but there's an undercurrent of uncertainty that wasn't there before.

Helen answers him quietly. "I couldn't say, Henry. I'm not the expert." He feels her shift up, leaning on his shoulder, and her voice is low in his ear. "If we shadows have offended..."

He gets what she's saying--the ball's in his court now. He licks his lips, and takes a moment to get the words right. "Recurring dreams have been known to persist for years, if the underlying issues remain unresolved."

"Oh. Cool," Henry says, and there's a scratching at his side that might be a bearded smile. "Good to know."

"Very much so," Helen says, and her fingers skim down his cheek. It's the last thing he feels before she tucks herself back in against his side, and sleep claims him once more.

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