#HUGE HUGE HUGE THANK YOU to my lovely friend @reidentifying

[doom-dreaming]

The More The Merrier: Ch. 3 - Consummation

They’re not even five steps down the corridor when Kelly slams her against the wall, fingers twisted, tight with intent, into the fabric of her shirt. Adrenaline spikes through her, sharp and familiar and white-hot; a heady rush of arousal follows quickly on its heels. Lightning-fast, her own hands seek the straps of Kelly’s tank top. It would have taken much stronger alcohol—and a lot more of it—to dull her reflexes. Still, she should’ve known she wouldn’t be fast enough.

With a swiftness that's nearly impossible to track, Kelly swats her hands away. A heartbeat later, her wrists are clamped together over her head and Kelly is pressed against her so tightly she swears she can feel every layer of fabric separating the two of them. “This is for you,” Kelly whispers, chasing the words with her tongue, following the curve of Sarah’s jaw.

It was a bold move—she'd give Kelly that much—and boldness, while usually a risky strategy, was also (unfortunately) one of the very few keys to Sarah’s heart. She could already feel her sense of decorum starting to crumble. The firm curves of Kelly’s body fit so perfectly against her own and she allows herself a moment of fantasy, imagining those curves naked under her hands… She’d be damned if she was the only one getting stripped tonight.

“Taking her down right here in the hallway?”

Kelly hums; it’s halfway-adjacent to a laugh. “She might like it.” For a second or two—not long enough—Kelly’s lips linger on her skin. “But it’d be a shame to’ve kicked the boys out of the room tonight for nothing.”

Heat blossoms somewhere in Sarah’s gut and quickly sinks lower, and not just from the shock of Kelly leaving a parting nip on her neck. “You prepared for this?”

Kelly’s eyebrows arch. “You didn’t think we were just being friendly, did you?”

The heat between Sarah’s legs settles into a tight, heavy ache that makes the trek to Blue Team’s quarters more torture than it should be. Sure, when Roland had mentioned all three of their elevated heart rates, she’d expected some light flirting—or whatever passed as flirting for Class-IIs—not an entire contingency plan complete with semi-public foreplay and a conveniently-unoccupied room.

But Kelly and Linda were the core of the most competent Spartan unit to ever exist—should she really have expected anything less? Having Blue Team onboard the Infinity was teaching her—quickly—not to underestimate them. She’d watched them train, she knew how they approached a challenge, how they played when they could sense the odds were heavily in their favor, reveling in their skill and efficiency and ruthlessness. Really, it was her mistake for assuming this would be any different.

She risks a glance at the camera mounted over the door while Kelly’s fingers fly across the keypad. It was impossible to know where Roland was or wasn’t looking at any given moment, but she knows he’s too invested in this to allow his attention to lapse completely. They’d have an audience tonight whether she gave him permission or not.

The soft ‘beep’ of acceptance from the keypad is almost drowned by the hydraulic hiss of the door opening.

“After you,” Kelly chirps, punctuating the words with a firm slap to Sarah’s ass.

“I should write you up for insubordination.” Her tone stays stern and professional, but she’s betting they’ll pick up on the joke. …she hopes they’ll pick up on the joke.

“We’ll remind you in the morning,” Linda snipes back without missing a beat.

The lights in Blue Team’s quarters dim significantly when the three of them cross the threshold, almost as if on cue.

“Mood lighting, hm?” Kelly murmurs from somewhere over Sarah’s shoulder. “Thanks, Roland.”

Sarah grits her teeth. “Do not encourage him.”

The room’s holotank flickers gold, but that’s the only sign of acknowledgement the AI gives—no avatar, no pithy comment. Sarah’s almost impressed by his restraint. Almost.

The gentle ‘hsss-chnk’ of the door closing behind them may as well have been the starting alarm of a wargames match. All three Spartans burst into a flurry of motion, a storm of hands pawing, grabbing, tugging at anything within reach. Again, Sarah goes for the straps of Kelly’s tank top, and again Kelly slaps her away. It quickly becomes something of a dance, a rhythm, a give and take; Kelly yanks at the waistband of Sarah’s pants, Sarah takes the opportunity to slip her hands under Kelly’s top.

She knows it’s a losing battle; she’s outnumbered and outgunned and sure enough, with two against one, it doesn’t take long at all for Sarah’s—and only Sarah’s—clothes to litter the floor. Somewhere in the midst of the scuffle, her hair had been freed from its ponytail; she catches a glimpse of the band around Linda’s wrist.

Undoubtedly emboldened by the new vulnerability of their quarry, Kelly and Linda redouble the intensity of their attack, pressing in from both sides. Lips dance over skin, hungry, working their way up and down her neck, across her shoulders and collarbone, along her jaw, behind her ears.

Kelly drags her in by her bra straps, crushing their mouths into a rough, messy kiss. It’s not a good kiss—it’s mostly teeth and not nearly enough tongue—but it’s enough to distract Sarah from Kelly’s primary objective. Slim, quick fingers target the frontal clasp of her bra—a breath and a snap later, it’s open and Kelly is sliding the straps down Sarah’s arms for Linda to catch and remove from the other side.

Kelly’s teeth close down on Sarah’s bottom lip. “Looks like someone did a little planning of her own,” she notes, pulling away. “No way you just happened to be wearing that.”

Sarah runs her tongue over her lip and tastes copper. She smirks. “I had my hopes.” Despite all her best attempts at bravado, she’s embarrassingly wet by the time they actually make it to the nearest bunk. Kelly’s hands play cruel games at the junction of her thighs and she’s halfway made up her mind to just grab Kelly’s wrist and—

Kelly is on her faster than the thought can finish forming; a welcome weight settled on her hips, firm hands pinning her shoulders to the mattress. Another weight—Linda—slides onto the bunk behind her head and a second pair of hands takes the place of the first.

Kelly sits back on her heels, head slightly cocked, just the barest hint of a smirk on her lips. “How do you want to be fucked, Commander?”

Maybe it’s the use of the title, usually so formal, spoken so casually and in such a context. Maybe it’s the bite in Kelly’s voice, the way the words punch out of her. Maybe it’s the gentle, agonizing swipe of fingertips against her clit. Maybe it’s a combination of all three. Whatever the cause, there’s fire rising swiftly in her neck, threatening to spread to her ears. It’s damn near reflexive, the way she rocks her hips into Kelly’s hand, hungry for more pressure than the other woman seemed willing to give.

“You like that?” Without waiting for verbal acknowledgement, Kelly indulges her, tugging the damp fabric of her panties to the side and slipping two slender fingers into the slick heat between her legs.

Sarah can’t stop the growl that claws its way out of her throat, ears burning at the immediacy of the reaction. It wasn’t supposed to be this easy—she did this to herself on a regular basis, for fuck’s sake. But Kelly’s hands were not her own and that was making all the difference.

**********

Kelly curls her fingers on the return stroke before pushing deeper into the next thrust, studying Palmer’s body like a tactical map. Each twitch of muscle and every micro-expression that fluttered across her face was feedback for Kelly’s performance and so far, all Kelly could see were green lights across the board.

Palmer’s hips roll with the flow of Kelly’s fingers, her hands are gouging furrows into the sheets, and she’s blushing so hard Kelly swears she can feel the heat of it. Still, a change in tactics might yield better results... It was a risk she could take. Briefly, Kelly withdraws, switching fingers, pressing the heel of her hand into Palmer’s clit. The motion provokes an instant response, a shiver and a breathless, whispered curse.

Spurred on by the encouragement, Kelly shifts her weight, bracing herself on one arm, sliding her tongue up the length of Palmer’s stomach. She slows herself down, takes her time, licking long languid stripes over salty skin, rewarded by the involuntary ripples of toned muscle underneath. She works her way higher—over the curve of a breast, around a nipple.

At the fringes of her peripheral vision, she sees Linda’s hand pressed firmly against Palmer’s jaw, tilting her head back, no doubt forcing eye contact. “All bark and no bite so far, Commander,” Linda purrs. “I think Kelly’s disappointed.”

It was a familiar trick. Even though their roles were usually reversed on the battlefield, Kelly knew when Linda was setting her up to take a shot. She closes her lips around the nipple she’d been teasing, sucking gently, swirling her tongue to match the rhythm of her hand.

Whatever retort Palmer may have had to the comment comes out as a whimper instead.

**********

They were unraveling her—fast. She knew they would and she wanted it, but…god damn. Every inch of her skin is on fire and the brilliant green of Linda’s eyes may as well have been the beckoning of a cold, clear pool. She can almost imagine herself diving in as Linda leans closer.

“Relax,” the sniper murmurs. “If you’re not gonna fight, you might as well enjoy it.”

The grip on her jaw loosens, but their eyes stay locked. She swallows, still intensely aware of Kelly’s mouth on her skin, her fingers curling and spreading and exploring. Sarah’s palms are sweaty, her hands are twisted in the sheets, and she’s not sure she could move them even if she wanted to—not against the ruthless tempo Kelly is currently torturing her with. Relaxing was easier said than done.

“Having fun yet?” Kelly flashes a grin that falls short of 'cheeky' and lands somewhere in 'predatory.' Lips at the wrong angles—again, too many teeth.

It’s hot. Sarah feels cornered. Her wildly-enhanced fight-or-flight response is wreaking havoc in her brain, crossing wires about what her body should or shouldn’t be doing. She pushes through the haze and focuses, managing to tilt her hips into a more agreeable angle. She hopes that’s enough of an answer.

Kelly makes some strange sound of approval, more animal than human, and the inferno raging under Sarah’s skin blooms to a breaking point in the pit of her stomach. Muscles tighten. Spasm. Release. Kelly fucks her through it, leaving a line of light kisses down her chest. Linda’s fingers are delicate and strangely affectionate as they comb through her hair. Gradually, the fire ebbs into a dull, heavy smolder that settles into her bones.

They leave her alone for a minute, enveloped in that warmth. Gracefully, carefully, they move over and around her, leaving her blissfully untouched as they switch places. Linda slots herself into the space Kelly had left, maneuvering until she can lay flat on her stomach. A sniper’s position, Sarah thinks lazily. The mental alarm bell of what that actually entails catches up with her a second too late. By that point, Kelly is already behind her, grabbing her wrists, pulling her arms over her head.

She squirms and tugs. Unsurprisingly, Kelly’s grip remains steadfast.

“Didn’t Linda tell you to relax?”

Yeah, because that’d worked so well the first time. But her head was clearer and she wasn’t balanced on the edge of an orgasm, being betrayed by her own muscles… She could try. She shuts her eyes and puts some effort into it, taking inventory of her body, trying to sink into each sensation. There’s a grounding effect to the pressure of Kelly’s hands around her wrists, it’s warm and comfortable, in an anchoring way. The sheets are soft under her bare back. Cool air blows across her stomach, counteracting the heat of her body.

She loses focus as Linda’s tongue leaves a hot, wet streak up the inside of her thigh—and another directly against the already-soaked crotch of her (still yet to be removed) panties. Linda’s fingers join her tongue a few seconds later, toying with the edges of the fabric, sneaking under for a touch before retreating again.

Sarah doesn’t know if she’s in any position to negotiate, but she tries anyway. “Will you get those damn things off me?” Her voice doesn’t come out nearly as strong as she’d hoped it would.

Linda’s only answer is a snort and a playful tug at the waistline that sends the elastic snapping back against Sarah’s hip. She bites back a groan and shuts her eyes again, doing her damnedest to be patient. Linda’s tongue works in slow strokes; it does feel good, but the flare of returning arousal is quickly burning off the effects of the afterglow and it takes significant willpower to keep Sarah from bucking her hips directly into Linda’s face.

They were right. She should be enjoying it. Her date nights with Tom had been few and far between as of late, and in the event there was sex involved, it was quick. Not unsatisfying, not at all obligatory, just…quick. It seemed as though everyone in her life, herself included, always had something going on, something they needed to be doing. Tom’s responsibilities only multiplied by the minute. Miller was almost always running an op—not that that ever discouraged her from screwing around with him if she had a few minutes to kill…

The point was, she hadn’t had a good, thorough fucking in what felt like an eternity. She could relax. She could enjoy this. Really, they were doing her a favor—

Without warning, Linda pulls her panties to the side. The sudden rush of cool air against hot skin instantly sends her train of thought crashing off its tracks and into a ditch. Linda’s tongue is back in action within seconds and Sarah’s fingers twitch, desperate with the desire to tangle into that gorgeous red hair and yank…but Kelly's grip on her wrists makes that impossible. At least for the moment.

The movement, of course, doesn't escape Kelly's attention. She leans down into Sarah’s line of sight, a dangerous smirk on her lips. “Need something?”

Sarah opens her mouth to bite back, but Linda’s tongue sliding across her clit draws a breathless whine from her lips instead.

Kelly’s smile gets toothy and feral again. “Sorry? Didn’t quite catch that…”

“Just fuck me already,” Sarah hisses, jerking against Kelly’s restraint at the next flick of Linda’s tongue. To hell with relaxing; she was done being patient. “What do I have to say? Please?”

“Might be nice.” Linda’s tone is cool and utterly unbothered. The sensation of her breath is enough to send goosebumps crawling across Sarah’s skin.

“Tell us how badly you want it,” Kelly purrs.

Oh, she made it sound like such a simple request. No, this was a game for them. Sarah was nothing more than a mouse caught between the paws of two very cruel cats. She huffs. “You're sadistic, you know that?”

Kelly leans even closer, almost cheek-to-cheek. “You like it.”

Of course she did. But relaxing and enjoying herself was one thing. Admitting desperation was another. Besides, they didn't need her to vocalize anything her body wasn't already communicating; she may as well have been broadcasting her desire over open comms. And they were picking it up loud and clear.

“Alright then.” Kelly pulls back, smug. “We do this the hard way. I think she wants to sing for us.”

Linda answers with a low chuckle. “Let's hear it.”

**********

Kelly can't school the grin that crosses her face the moment Palmer finally breaks. Seeing her commander laid bare and vulnerable in front of her is akin to a battle-rush—that feeling of hot blood and razor-sharp senses at the first hint of danger.

She locks eyes with Linda over the writhing plane of Palmer’s body. Her sister was working her calculated, methodical magic and Palmer was singing. She’d been trying to say something for the past few minutes—something Kelly assumed was ‘please’—but hadn’t managed to make it past the initial sound without the word devolving into unintelligible moans. Linda’s head bobs, prompting the loudest cry they’d heard so far.

“Agh—!” Palmer doesn’t even have time to catch her breath before she’s gasping out another attempt. “Pl—p…” She’s staring up at Kelly with manic arousal. “Please! Please...”

Kelly cocks her head. “She’s pretty when she begs.” Even though she means it more as a taunt than a compliment, Kelly can admit there’s a layer of sincerity in the comment. Palmer has the beauty of a caged tiger, seething with powerless fury, hungry for control Kelly isn’t allowing.

“Fuck me,” she huffs, teeth bared, still clearly trying to capture enough air to form the words. “That’s a gah—ah!” Her hands tighten into fists as she fights against Linda’s distractions long enough to spit out the rest of the sentence. “...a goddamn order!”

Kelly’s gaze flicks from Palmer back to Linda. The sniper’s brows raise by mere millimeters, but Kelly interprets the question with ease. Should we?

She waits, counting heartbeats. One. Two. …three. She sets the caged tiger free.

**********

Her inhibitions and final shreds of professionalism tear to tatters as her hands find purchase in Linda’s hair. She needed more contact. Now.

With another low laugh that rattles Sarah’s bones from the inside, Linda obliges. Silent moans spill from Sarah’s lips, swallowed and stifled by quick, heavy breaths. She’s been stripped to raw nerves, capable of doing nothing but feeling. Linda seems determined to map out Sarah’s entire internal topography with her tongue. Kelly’s fingers dance over the ridges of her ribs. Stars bloom behind her eyes as she crashes—finally, mercifully—over the edge. She’s vaguely aware of Kelly crooning something into her ear, but she’s too far gone to actually parse the words.

She feels like she floats for hours, hazy and warm, suspended in honey. Kelly and Linda are speaking, but the conversation is distant and watery and it doesn’t feel like she’s included, so she doesn’t bother trying to understand any of it. Her muscles have turned to wet sand; she knows it won’t last long and doesn’t bother fighting it. Relax, they’d told her. Well, now she had no choice.

She’s not sure how long she lays there. Kelly and Linda’s words gradually sharpen as her mind clears, then fall silent as she forces herself to stir and stretch. It takes her a minute to realize they’re watching her with some flavor of expectation, so she says the first thing that comes to mind. “...is that it?”

Kelly scoffs. “And risk insulting your stamina? No. That was a warmup.”

Sarah’s face flushes with heat. Before the other two have a chance to comment on what she knows is a highly-visible blush, Roland chooses that moment to make an appearance. She’d never thank him out loud, but she's grateful for the distraction.

“Ahem.” He makes a show of clearing a throat he doesn’t have, a gesture made all the more ridiculous by the decision to speak without the added illusion of his avatar. “Apologies for the intrusion, Commander, but I’ve taken the liberty of rescheduling tomorrow morning’s drills with Fireteam Hydra. Hope you don’t mind. …have a good night!”

And just like that, her gratitude evaporates. The glow of the holotank doesn’t even fade, it just snaps off. Roland was, metaphorically, sprinting in the opposite direction. And for good reason. Sarah didn’t know how to strangle an AI, but she was sure with a little creativity she could figure something out.