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stephanometraTitle: don't know much (except how to keep warm)
Pairing: Sean/girl!Tom/Jon
Rating: NC17
Summary: Yeah, she's easy for it; they all are.
Warnings: Alwaysagirl! Hefty doses of silliness and (paradoxically) realism! Also, even more not real than usual, if we're keeping up with disclaimers and things of that nature.
Notes: Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lyo and hegemony for being the enablingest enablers ever (I've got your numbers, and don't think I won't call), ethrosdemon for saying something very very nice that helped me with the final push, and t_usual_suspect for the lightning!beta. In just under the wire for Porn Battle VI, prompt: "broken heater," and title loosely inspired by "Easy" // RCPM. 2400 words.
***
The heater limps and stutters its way through the winter, but it doesn't actually die until the beginning of April. On the one hand, that's very, very good, because it means that they don't really have to get it fixed until fall. On the other, it makes for a really unpleasant couple of days when they get a cold snap a few weeks later.
Sean doesn't like coming home to a cold apartment, but in the interest of being able to eat, he makes do. They'll figure something out by September, he's sure.
Tom isn't up yet when Sean gets home from work, but that doesn't surprise him; Jon's in town for a couple of days, and Tom and Jon were up way, way past Sean's bedtime the previous night drinking themselves retarded, trying to muffle their laughter as they huddled together under a blanket on the couch. He'd poked his head into her room to make sure they weren't dead before he left for work that morning, and now he does it again, smiling softly when he sees Tom's hair sticking out crazily from under the covers, Jon's head angled towards hers on their shared pillow. Sean can't actually make out their individual shapes through the thick fluff of the down comforter, but he knows that Jon's probably curled protectively around her. Jon tends to do that.
The door squeaks on its hinges as Sean backs out of the room. Tom stirs.
"Sean?" she asks, voice fuzzy with sleep. She fumbles with the blankets and pulls them down enough so that she can peek out at him. "Time's'it?"
"Eleven-thirty."
Tom arches under the covers, making a tiny noise as she stretches. "Early," she murmurs on the exhale, turning her head to look at Jon, who's rubbing his face against the pillow as he slowly wakes.
Sean crosses to the bed, sidestepping the miscellaneous clothes strewn all over the floor, and pokes at what he thinks is Tom's foot but turns out to be Jon's. "Sleeping together for warmth, are we?" he asks, as Jon yawns and kicks half-heartedly at his hand.
"Fuck, no," Tom says, blinking up at Sean through her lashes, smiling faintly. "He's sleeping with me because we had sex."
Jon laughs, sleepy and quiet, and nuzzles the back of her neck. "And because you're warm," he says.
"Oh, don't even." She glances back at Jon over her shoulder, rolling her eyes, and then gives Sean a serious look. "You look cold, Sean."
Sean shrugs, even as he's wishing he hadn't dropped his coat at the door. "I'm alright."
"You sure?" Tom slides an arm out from under the covers to turn down a corner of the comforter invitingly.
"Yeah, go back to sleep. Sorry I woke you."
"Sean," Jon says. "Shut up and get in bed with us, okay?"
Sean sighs dramatically, but he does, shrugging out of his hoodie and jeans and slipping between the soft white sheets.
Tom is naked and sleep-warm, her skin bleeding heat through the thin cotton of his t-shirt as she presses against him and kisses his jaw, his mouth. "You are cold," she says, shivering when he spreads his fingers in the small of her back and pulls her closer.
"The heater's busted; I don't know if you noticed."
"We'll warm you up," she promises, kissing him again, and then murmurs, "Missed you last night," against his lips.
Sean laughs, sliding his hand over the curve of her hip. His eyes meet Jon's over Tom's shoulder. "Liar," he says.
Jon grins. "No, she did. She told me so."
"Hmm," Sean says, catching her mouth again, touching her tongue with his. "You're a rude drunk, Thomasina."
She makes a small sound and bites his lower lip. "Who says we were still drunk?"
Sean just laughs again, and Tom makes a face at him and turns over to kiss Jon instead.
He closes his eyes as he spoons up behind her, breathing in the smell of her hair, the faint tang of sex clinging to the sheets. She hasn't shaved her legs in weeks; her hair is baby-soft under his hand as he splays his fingers across her thigh, thumb pressing gently into the crease. Her breath catches at the tease, but she doesn't move, just lets him walk his fingers up her side, dipping at her waist, stroking the sensitive underside of her breast where he knows she loves to be touched. Sean smiles when his fingers tangle with Jon's for a moment, smiles even harder when Tom moans between them, even though they're barely touching her. But it's always like this when the three of them are together, an effortless slide into intimacy.
"Easy for it, aren't you?" he whispers into her ear, but all three of them shudder together when she gasps and arches into their touch. Yeah, she's easy for it; they all are.
Sean skims his hand down her stomach to press between her thighs, unable to stop the jerk of his hips when he finds her wet already, hot and wanting when he sinks a fingertip into her and presses the heel of his hand against her clit.
She groans into Jon's mouth and spreads her legs, drawing up her knee and planting her foot on the mattress behind Sean's thighs. "Fuck, Sean," she moans, the sound hitting him like a caress, resonating in his own chest where he's pressed against her back.
He kisses her neck, lets her roll her hips up into his touch, and says, "You want...?"
"Yeah, yeah, I want," she breathes. "Come on."
Jon laughs again and slides his fingers into Tom's hair, turning her head back toward him so he can kiss the tip of her nose, then her lips. "You're pushy," he says.
"He's slow," she counters, shoving her ass back, impatient, huffing in frustration because Sean's still got his boxers on. She reaches back to tug at his waistband, trying to reach skin.
"He's going as fast as he can," Sean deadpans, lifting his hips obligingly and hissing when her fingers brush his dick; soon she's pushed his shorts far enough down his thighs that his cock is riding sweet against the curve of her ass as he kicks them down to the foot of the bed. "It would help if I could see you."
"Too cold for that," Jon says, reasonably. His hand dips below the covers again, and Tom gasps.
She rocks back against Sean and reaches down to curl her hand around his cock, slicking him up by rubbing the head up and down her slit before lining him up. "Come on," she says again, begging for it, her thigh trembling as she holds herself open for him.
"Yeah," Sean breathes. He pushes forward, fills her up with one long thrust.
Tom tenses, clenching almost painfully around him and crying out sharply. "Shit, shit," she moans, breaking away from Jon's mouth to pant against the pillow. "Don't fucking move."
"You asked me for it," Sean says, but he stills his hips, gentles his hand over her hip and hooks his chin over her shoulder so he can kiss her throat.
"Yeah, Tom, make up your mind," Jon teases.
She makes an unsteady, discontented noise. "It's not my mind that's the problem; it's my fucking vagina."
"Well," Jon says, grinning as he pushes her bangs out of her eyes. "Mind over matter."
Tom glares at him. "I hate you, Walker."
"Do not."
"Do so."
"I still love you, Jon," Sean offers.
"Yeah?" Still smiling wide, Jon leans forward to brush his mouth against Sean's, sweeping his tongue over Sean's lower lip when Sean makes a pleased noise. His fingers wander into Sean's hair, gentle but insistent, and his beard rasps pleasantly over Sean's skin as they deepen the kiss.
"Jesus, guys," Tom says, distant, dazed.
Sean's hand collides with Tom's as he moves it from her belly to Jon's hip, blind under the covers. He wonders why for a split second, but then he feels her fingertips brush against his cock where he's buried inside her. "Oh, God," he groans, and before he can stop himself he's snapping his hips forward and pulling Jon closer with the involuntary clutch of his fingers.
Tom moans loudly, and Jon pulls away from Sean's mouth with a moan of his own, hips flexing as he grinds against Tom's belly. She's pressed tight between them, panting, her cunt fluttering around his dick; Sean wonders if she's thinking about the last time they were in this particular position, about Sean and Jon taking her together, and Christ, if he starts thinking about it there's no way he's going to last.
"Tommy," he murmurs into her neck, urgent, almost a question.
She shudders. "Yes, fuck, please please fuck me," she says, and then Jon makes a strangled noise and kisses her hard. Jon loves it when she begs.
Sean tries to take it slow, tries to set an easy rhythm, but Tom doesn't let him; she works her hips almost savagely against his, using what leverage she has to take him deeper, moaning her encouragement into Jon's mouth when Sean fucks her hard. Her fingers are still busy on her clit, her other hand curled possessively around the back of Jon's neck.
Jon keeps making frustrated noises when Tom shifts away from him into Sean's thrusts, his hips rolling forward, looking for friction that isn't there. Tom's too caught up in the pursuit of her own pleasure to notice, but Sean isn't; Jon stutters a gasp when Sean wraps a hand around his cock.
Sean gives him a few strokes, a little rough, twisting his wrist, but mostly he lets Jon just fuck his fist, his cock moving heavy and hot through the circle of Sean's fingers.
The three of them are so close under the covers that the chill in the room is completely irrelevant, chased away by the heat of their bodies and the sharp-sweet smell of sex in the air. Sweat shines at Tom's temples and drips down the back of her neck, and Sean kisses her there, open-mouthed, tasting salt and feeling her rapid pulse under his tongue. She's close, her arm jerking a little as she roughly circles her clit with her fingers, and when she arches against him, on the edge, Sean says, "She's about to come, Jon, don't you want to watch?"
Jon's eyes fly open like he hadn't even realized he'd closed them. He gives Tom a look that could be predatory if it weren't so sex-drunk and warm.
Tom comes.
Jon digs his teeth into her lower lip as soon as she goes pliant between them, thrusts raggedly into Sean's fist a few more times, and then shoots off, wetting Sean's knuckles and Tom's belly with it. "Fuck," he breathes when he's done shaking, kissing Tom lazily again, swallowing her soft moan as Sean drags her knee up a little farther and fucks her with short, fast strokes until he comes, too.
"Fuck," Sean echoes when he's caught his breath, still pressed tight against Tom's back. His shirt―because he never bothered to take it off, of course―is sticky with sweat, blood-warm between them. There's a sticky smear of Jon's come on Tom's inner thigh where Sean was holding her open, the smell of it obnoxious in the back of his throat. It's by far too warm with all three of them in bed.
Everything feels amazing.
Sean kisses the back of Tom's neck again and then pulls out. He sits up just enough to pull off his soaked t-shirt, wipes off his hand and his thighs. He really wants a shower, and while he wishes that he didn't have to get dressed to make it the twenty feet to his room without freezing his balls off, he thinks that he probably needs to at least put his hoodie and jeans back on.
"We really should have gotten the heater fixed," he says glumly as he concludes that he definitely can't reach his jeans without getting out of bed.
"Disagree," Jon says, and Tom laughs and kisses him again.
Sean heaves a sigh as he throws back the comforter.
"Where are you going?" Tom asks.
"Shower," Sean says.
She yawns. "I call next. Sorry, Jon."
Jon scoffs. "You can have it. I'm staying in bed all day."
"No, you're not," Tom says. "You smell like sex and unwashed boy and these sheets aren't due for a wash for another, oh―"
"Uh," Sean says, pulling his jeans up over his hips. "You might want to check that."
"Oh, you didn't." Tom pushes down the duvet and sighs, glaring at the wet splatters of come on her sheets. "Damn it."
Jon looks at Sean, who just shakes his head and buttons his pants.
"Laundry day it is, then," she concludes. She slips out of bed, hugging her arms in the cold, and kicks her jeans out from under the bed before ducking down quickly to get them. "Fuck, fuck, it's so fucking cold. Where's my sweater?"
"On the floor," Jon says. He sneaks a hand out from under the covers to gather the comforter back around him, snuggling down. "Come on, Tom, it's not that bad."
"Dude, there's come on my sheets. It is definitely laundry day. Not negotiable." She locates her sweater and snatches that up off the floor, too.
"But I'm sleepy. And it's warm in here."
Tom rolls her eyes. "Should've thought about that before you jizzed all over my bed, Jonny."
"You suck," Jon grumbles, rolling out of bed. He gives the comforter one last forlorn look before he starts poking around the mess on the floor in search of his clothes.
"Only when asked nicely." Tom pauses thoughtfully, her arms half in her sweater, one sleeve dragging on the floor. "Oh, hey. You know what'll be the best thing about going to the laundromat today?"
"Making out behind the high-capacity washers?" Jon says hopefully.
"Well, I was going to say the working heat," Tom says.
Sean grins. "But making out works, too."
***
Pairing: Sean/girl!Tom/Jon
Rating: NC17
Summary: Yeah, she's easy for it; they all are.
Warnings: Alwaysagirl! Hefty doses of silliness and (paradoxically) realism! Also, even more not real than usual, if we're keeping up with disclaimers and things of that nature.
Notes: Thanks to
lyo and hegemony for being the enablingest enablers ever (I've got your numbers, and don't think I won't call), ethrosdemon for saying something very very nice that helped me with the final push, and t_usual_suspect for the lightning!beta. In just under the wire for Porn Battle VI, prompt: "broken heater," and title loosely inspired by "Easy" // RCPM. 2400 words.The heater limps and stutters its way through the winter, but it doesn't actually die until the beginning of April. On the one hand, that's very, very good, because it means that they don't really have to get it fixed until fall. On the other, it makes for a really unpleasant couple of days when they get a cold snap a few weeks later.
Sean doesn't like coming home to a cold apartment, but in the interest of being able to eat, he makes do. They'll figure something out by September, he's sure.
Tom isn't up yet when Sean gets home from work, but that doesn't surprise him; Jon's in town for a couple of days, and Tom and Jon were up way, way past Sean's bedtime the previous night drinking themselves retarded, trying to muffle their laughter as they huddled together under a blanket on the couch. He'd poked his head into her room to make sure they weren't dead before he left for work that morning, and now he does it again, smiling softly when he sees Tom's hair sticking out crazily from under the covers, Jon's head angled towards hers on their shared pillow. Sean can't actually make out their individual shapes through the thick fluff of the down comforter, but he knows that Jon's probably curled protectively around her. Jon tends to do that.
The door squeaks on its hinges as Sean backs out of the room. Tom stirs.
"Sean?" she asks, voice fuzzy with sleep. She fumbles with the blankets and pulls them down enough so that she can peek out at him. "Time's'it?"
"Eleven-thirty."
Tom arches under the covers, making a tiny noise as she stretches. "Early," she murmurs on the exhale, turning her head to look at Jon, who's rubbing his face against the pillow as he slowly wakes.
Sean crosses to the bed, sidestepping the miscellaneous clothes strewn all over the floor, and pokes at what he thinks is Tom's foot but turns out to be Jon's. "Sleeping together for warmth, are we?" he asks, as Jon yawns and kicks half-heartedly at his hand.
"Fuck, no," Tom says, blinking up at Sean through her lashes, smiling faintly. "He's sleeping with me because we had sex."
Jon laughs, sleepy and quiet, and nuzzles the back of her neck. "And because you're warm," he says.
"Oh, don't even." She glances back at Jon over her shoulder, rolling her eyes, and then gives Sean a serious look. "You look cold, Sean."
Sean shrugs, even as he's wishing he hadn't dropped his coat at the door. "I'm alright."
"You sure?" Tom slides an arm out from under the covers to turn down a corner of the comforter invitingly.
"Yeah, go back to sleep. Sorry I woke you."
"Sean," Jon says. "Shut up and get in bed with us, okay?"
Sean sighs dramatically, but he does, shrugging out of his hoodie and jeans and slipping between the soft white sheets.
Tom is naked and sleep-warm, her skin bleeding heat through the thin cotton of his t-shirt as she presses against him and kisses his jaw, his mouth. "You are cold," she says, shivering when he spreads his fingers in the small of her back and pulls her closer.
"The heater's busted; I don't know if you noticed."
"We'll warm you up," she promises, kissing him again, and then murmurs, "Missed you last night," against his lips.
Sean laughs, sliding his hand over the curve of her hip. His eyes meet Jon's over Tom's shoulder. "Liar," he says.
Jon grins. "No, she did. She told me so."
"Hmm," Sean says, catching her mouth again, touching her tongue with his. "You're a rude drunk, Thomasina."
She makes a small sound and bites his lower lip. "Who says we were still drunk?"
Sean just laughs again, and Tom makes a face at him and turns over to kiss Jon instead.
He closes his eyes as he spoons up behind her, breathing in the smell of her hair, the faint tang of sex clinging to the sheets. She hasn't shaved her legs in weeks; her hair is baby-soft under his hand as he splays his fingers across her thigh, thumb pressing gently into the crease. Her breath catches at the tease, but she doesn't move, just lets him walk his fingers up her side, dipping at her waist, stroking the sensitive underside of her breast where he knows she loves to be touched. Sean smiles when his fingers tangle with Jon's for a moment, smiles even harder when Tom moans between them, even though they're barely touching her. But it's always like this when the three of them are together, an effortless slide into intimacy.
"Easy for it, aren't you?" he whispers into her ear, but all three of them shudder together when she gasps and arches into their touch. Yeah, she's easy for it; they all are.
Sean skims his hand down her stomach to press between her thighs, unable to stop the jerk of his hips when he finds her wet already, hot and wanting when he sinks a fingertip into her and presses the heel of his hand against her clit.
She groans into Jon's mouth and spreads her legs, drawing up her knee and planting her foot on the mattress behind Sean's thighs. "Fuck, Sean," she moans, the sound hitting him like a caress, resonating in his own chest where he's pressed against her back.
He kisses her neck, lets her roll her hips up into his touch, and says, "You want...?"
"Yeah, yeah, I want," she breathes. "Come on."
Jon laughs again and slides his fingers into Tom's hair, turning her head back toward him so he can kiss the tip of her nose, then her lips. "You're pushy," he says.
"He's slow," she counters, shoving her ass back, impatient, huffing in frustration because Sean's still got his boxers on. She reaches back to tug at his waistband, trying to reach skin.
"He's going as fast as he can," Sean deadpans, lifting his hips obligingly and hissing when her fingers brush his dick; soon she's pushed his shorts far enough down his thighs that his cock is riding sweet against the curve of her ass as he kicks them down to the foot of the bed. "It would help if I could see you."
"Too cold for that," Jon says, reasonably. His hand dips below the covers again, and Tom gasps.
She rocks back against Sean and reaches down to curl her hand around his cock, slicking him up by rubbing the head up and down her slit before lining him up. "Come on," she says again, begging for it, her thigh trembling as she holds herself open for him.
"Yeah," Sean breathes. He pushes forward, fills her up with one long thrust.
Tom tenses, clenching almost painfully around him and crying out sharply. "Shit, shit," she moans, breaking away from Jon's mouth to pant against the pillow. "Don't fucking move."
"You asked me for it," Sean says, but he stills his hips, gentles his hand over her hip and hooks his chin over her shoulder so he can kiss her throat.
"Yeah, Tom, make up your mind," Jon teases.
She makes an unsteady, discontented noise. "It's not my mind that's the problem; it's my fucking vagina."
"Well," Jon says, grinning as he pushes her bangs out of her eyes. "Mind over matter."
Tom glares at him. "I hate you, Walker."
"Do not."
"Do so."
"I still love you, Jon," Sean offers.
"Yeah?" Still smiling wide, Jon leans forward to brush his mouth against Sean's, sweeping his tongue over Sean's lower lip when Sean makes a pleased noise. His fingers wander into Sean's hair, gentle but insistent, and his beard rasps pleasantly over Sean's skin as they deepen the kiss.
"Jesus, guys," Tom says, distant, dazed.
Sean's hand collides with Tom's as he moves it from her belly to Jon's hip, blind under the covers. He wonders why for a split second, but then he feels her fingertips brush against his cock where he's buried inside her. "Oh, God," he groans, and before he can stop himself he's snapping his hips forward and pulling Jon closer with the involuntary clutch of his fingers.
Tom moans loudly, and Jon pulls away from Sean's mouth with a moan of his own, hips flexing as he grinds against Tom's belly. She's pressed tight between them, panting, her cunt fluttering around his dick; Sean wonders if she's thinking about the last time they were in this particular position, about Sean and Jon taking her together, and Christ, if he starts thinking about it there's no way he's going to last.
"Tommy," he murmurs into her neck, urgent, almost a question.
She shudders. "Yes, fuck, please please fuck me," she says, and then Jon makes a strangled noise and kisses her hard. Jon loves it when she begs.
Sean tries to take it slow, tries to set an easy rhythm, but Tom doesn't let him; she works her hips almost savagely against his, using what leverage she has to take him deeper, moaning her encouragement into Jon's mouth when Sean fucks her hard. Her fingers are still busy on her clit, her other hand curled possessively around the back of Jon's neck.
Jon keeps making frustrated noises when Tom shifts away from him into Sean's thrusts, his hips rolling forward, looking for friction that isn't there. Tom's too caught up in the pursuit of her own pleasure to notice, but Sean isn't; Jon stutters a gasp when Sean wraps a hand around his cock.
Sean gives him a few strokes, a little rough, twisting his wrist, but mostly he lets Jon just fuck his fist, his cock moving heavy and hot through the circle of Sean's fingers.
The three of them are so close under the covers that the chill in the room is completely irrelevant, chased away by the heat of their bodies and the sharp-sweet smell of sex in the air. Sweat shines at Tom's temples and drips down the back of her neck, and Sean kisses her there, open-mouthed, tasting salt and feeling her rapid pulse under his tongue. She's close, her arm jerking a little as she roughly circles her clit with her fingers, and when she arches against him, on the edge, Sean says, "She's about to come, Jon, don't you want to watch?"
Jon's eyes fly open like he hadn't even realized he'd closed them. He gives Tom a look that could be predatory if it weren't so sex-drunk and warm.
Tom comes.
Jon digs his teeth into her lower lip as soon as she goes pliant between them, thrusts raggedly into Sean's fist a few more times, and then shoots off, wetting Sean's knuckles and Tom's belly with it. "Fuck," he breathes when he's done shaking, kissing Tom lazily again, swallowing her soft moan as Sean drags her knee up a little farther and fucks her with short, fast strokes until he comes, too.
"Fuck," Sean echoes when he's caught his breath, still pressed tight against Tom's back. His shirt―because he never bothered to take it off, of course―is sticky with sweat, blood-warm between them. There's a sticky smear of Jon's come on Tom's inner thigh where Sean was holding her open, the smell of it obnoxious in the back of his throat. It's by far too warm with all three of them in bed.
Everything feels amazing.
Sean kisses the back of Tom's neck again and then pulls out. He sits up just enough to pull off his soaked t-shirt, wipes off his hand and his thighs. He really wants a shower, and while he wishes that he didn't have to get dressed to make it the twenty feet to his room without freezing his balls off, he thinks that he probably needs to at least put his hoodie and jeans back on.
"We really should have gotten the heater fixed," he says glumly as he concludes that he definitely can't reach his jeans without getting out of bed.
"Disagree," Jon says, and Tom laughs and kisses him again.
Sean heaves a sigh as he throws back the comforter.
"Where are you going?" Tom asks.
"Shower," Sean says.
She yawns. "I call next. Sorry, Jon."
Jon scoffs. "You can have it. I'm staying in bed all day."
"No, you're not," Tom says. "You smell like sex and unwashed boy and these sheets aren't due for a wash for another, oh―"
"Uh," Sean says, pulling his jeans up over his hips. "You might want to check that."
"Oh, you didn't." Tom pushes down the duvet and sighs, glaring at the wet splatters of come on her sheets. "Damn it."
Jon looks at Sean, who just shakes his head and buttons his pants.
"Laundry day it is, then," she concludes. She slips out of bed, hugging her arms in the cold, and kicks her jeans out from under the bed before ducking down quickly to get them. "Fuck, fuck, it's so fucking cold. Where's my sweater?"
"On the floor," Jon says. He sneaks a hand out from under the covers to gather the comforter back around him, snuggling down. "Come on, Tom, it's not that bad."
"Dude, there's come on my sheets. It is definitely laundry day. Not negotiable." She locates her sweater and snatches that up off the floor, too.
"But I'm sleepy. And it's warm in here."
Tom rolls her eyes. "Should've thought about that before you jizzed all over my bed, Jonny."
"You suck," Jon grumbles, rolling out of bed. He gives the comforter one last forlorn look before he starts poking around the mess on the floor in search of his clothes.
"Only when asked nicely." Tom pauses thoughtfully, her arms half in her sweater, one sleeve dragging on the floor. "Oh, hey. You know what'll be the best thing about going to the laundromat today?"
"Making out behind the high-capacity washers?" Jon says hopefully.
"Well, I was going to say the working heat," Tom says.
Sean grins. "But making out works, too."
