| Title: Snowballed Authors: Jo & Brenda Pairing: Karl Urban/Harry Sinclair/Marton Csokas Rating: NC17 Summary: Dessert is served. Disclaimer: Never happened Notes: Kink!fic for the ultimate babealicious fragilebroken on the occasion of her birthday. We love you, babe!!!!!
The plan -- what little of one I have -- seems to be going well. Dinner. Check. Karl and Marton actually enjoying themselves. Check. One bottle of really good port emptied and another well on its way. Check. "Harry, love, you still with us?" "Hmm?" I glance up and smile into hazel eyes. "Yeah, I'm good. Just...planning a few things." "Frightening thought," Marton replies, winking as he takes a sip from his glass. I can't help but watch as full lips close around the rim. "Very frightening," Karl adds, smiling over the rim of his glass. He looks entirely too adorable like that, and I think he knows it. Marton seems to have noticed it as well. Or so the sidelong looks he's been giving Karl for the last few minutes seem to indicate. This is a good thing. "So," Karl says, setting his glass on the table and looking from me to Marton and back again. "Who wants dessert?" Finally. Just the opening I'd been looking for. Bless Karl. I smile, tip my chair back on two legs and keep my gaze focused on Karl, catching Marton out of the corner of my eye. "I think I'd like what we had for dessert last Sunday. And I definitely think Marton would love it." "I would?" "Yes." And that's all I say, watching as Karl's breath catches and his eyes go wide. I knew he'd remember. But then, I'd have been hurt if he hadn't. "H-he would?" The little stutter in his voice is endearing, and it captures Marton's attention. Good. I couldn't have planned this better if I'd tried. "He would." Another smile. "Go get dessert, Karl." I can see the million and one questions on the tip of his tongue, just waiting to tumble forth. I forestall them with a simple shake of my head and a reassuring smile. I know what I'm doing. Trust me. He nods once, then disappears into the kitchen, kicking his chair into the table in his haste. I transfer my smile to Marton, certain his reaction will be the same as mine was that night. "Ready?" "Harry, what's this about?" Good, Marton's uncertain. Always used to be fun to fuck with his world. This should be no exception. "Just wait." "And what, exactly, am I waiting for?" Marton watches me with a calm expression, one eyebrow raised. He knows I won't answer, but he has to try. "You'll see." I calmly sip my port as we wait, listening to the quiet sounds coming from the kitchen. Any minute now. And.... Ah, yes. Perfect. Beautiful. Exactly as I remembered. I watch Marton from the corner of my eye as Karl slowly walks back into the dining room. And his expression is everything I could have hoped for. "Good Lord." I let my gaze roam over the perfection of Karl's naked form -- strong shoulders, sculpted arms, muscled chest with a smattering of dark hairs tapering into a lean stomach, firm thighs, supple calves. Karl's smile is shy as he glances at me again before setting the bottle of honey in front of Marton and perching on the edge of the table. "Dessert is served." Marton's eyes fly to me, and it's all I can do to keep from laughing. "I remembered that you like honey." "Yes, but this..." Marton trails off, one hand making a weak gesture in Karl's direction. "This," Karl replies, his voice a little lower, a little huskier...and I can tell that it has the same effect on Marton that it has on me. "This is dessert." "You've got to be..." Marton's voice trails off as he looks into my eyes, then Karl's. No, we're not. "Unless the idea doesn't appeal?" I offer, as certain of Marton's answer as I am my own name. "No, it's just..." Once again Marton glances from me to Karl. "Unexpected." "Most gifts are," Karl says, an impish grin curving his mouth. "Gift." It's not a question, but that eyebrow raises again as Marton looks directly up into Karl's eyes. "Gift." And Karl's smile is as intimate for Marton as it is for me. This is beyond perfect, and all I can do is lean forward a bit, not wanting to miss a single thing as Karl's fingers brush Marton's jaw. "But you and Harry..." Marton's protest is lost when Karl places a finger against his lips. "Harry wants this. And so do I." Clever Karl. He's always been able to read me like an open book. And he knows when he's right. "I see." That's all Marton says before his body tenses, then surges out of his chair. So beautiful, the two of them together, bodies barely brushing. My tongue goes dry and my hands itch with the need to touch and take, explore them both. But I don't. I want to watch this, watch every second, watch the subtle play of emotions on Marton's face -- uncertainty mixed with a healthy dose of lust. "I'm not..." Marton stops, shivering when Karl slides his palm along Marton's shirt. "Pick up the bottle." With shaking hands, Marton obeys. His eyes keep flickering to me, wide and just a touch fearful. He should know better. "Keep going." Karl sits on the edge of the table, bites his lip as the first thick strand of liquid gold hits his skin. Just like that, Marton is enthralled, his eyes following the trail of honey as it snakes down Karl's chest. And I have to smile when Marton licks his lips, eyes drawn to the thick pool collecting at Karl's groin. "Jesus...." Marton breathes in awe. Precisely my reaction. Not that I think Jesus has much to do with this, but some occasions call for reverence. The sight of Karl, naked, aroused, covered with honey, is one of those times. My breath catches, lost, when Marton touches the tip of his tongue to the small droplets of honey clinging to Karl's nipple. Karl's sharp intake of breath is everything I'd hoped it would be, and I scoot forward, not wanting to miss a moment of this. Karl's hands clench, then unclench, on the table. They'd look much better buried in the thick silk of Marton's hair, but I don't say anything. To speak would be to ruin the beauty of this moment. Marton continues to lap at the sticky droplets on Karl's skin, pink tongue darting in and out of full lips. Karl's skin tastes of sun-warmed bread under my own tongue, and I can almost taste it myself as Marton drops to his knees in front of Karl, careful not to touch him anywhere except with his mouth. Honey clings to perfectly bowed lips, continues to slide down golden skin. Then, those perfect lips part, and Marton's tongue darts out again. All I can do is watch as he laps at the head of Karl's cock, catching the stray drops that landed there. And Karl makes a soft sound, head falling back, eyes closing. Finally, his hand lifts to touch Marton's hair. Long, graceful fingers slide deep into the depths of dark silk, tangle themselves there, spasm a little when those perfect, honey-slicked lips close around the head of his cock. My hand slides down my inseam to ease a bit of tension to my own erection, pressing firmly along faded denim. I'd love to do more, but I'm honestly afraid to ruin the fragility of the scene. One wrong move from me, and I know all would be ruined. Marton closes tight lips around Karl, sliding down, and I can remember the way those lips used to tighten around me, how his tongue used to do some little flickering thing that drove me out of my mind with want. I want that for Karl, want him to experience everything firsthand, want to watch hazel eyes go cloudy with need. I want this. A sharp gasp draws my attention up to Karl's face. Dark lashes fan across his cheekbones as lush, full lips part and his forehead creases. He's beautiful like this, and I long to tell him. But I hold my silence and watch. Marton's hands -- elegant, artist-like -- slide up muscled thighs, nails raking lightly through crisp hairs. He's enjoying this. Soft sounds that I remember so well come from his throat as he settles into an easy rhythm, drawing another gasp from Karl. The two of them are beyond beautiful together, beyond exquisite. So close to perfect that it's a deep ache inside me as I watch. Nothing, not even my vivid imaginings, could have prepared me for this. Golden hands on golden skin, sliding, melding together, lush lips wrapped around a lush cock, and Karl's quiet moans fill the space between us until it seems that I'm right there, beside Marton, my own tongue coaxing the honeyed-sweet taste deep down my throat. I sit, perched on the edge of my chair, mesmerized. One of Marton's hands slides between Karl's legs, and Karl's moan this time is a keening, throaty purr that almost sends me over the edge. Long fingers wrap around the base of Karl's cock as Marton continues his slow, easy rhythm, destroying Karl in slow degrees. I should know. Marton's done it to me often enough in the past. Karl looks so beautiful like this, thighs flexing, the table digging into his lower back as he shifts, following the promise of Marton's lips, those magic hands. The bottle of honey lays beside them, completely forgotten, but it's alright. It's done its job. Both hands are tangled deep in Marton's hair now, twisting, tugging. And I can see the curve of Marton's lips as he smiles. He's amused by Karl's silent pleas for more. I'm not surprised. He used to spend plenty of time amused by me when my body would beg for him. What does surprise me is that Karl's lasted this long. Marton surpasses expert at this, and I know all too well how lethal those lips and tongue can be. Yet Karl moans again, hips shifting, thrusting. His head drops forward, strands of hair dangling in front of partially open eyes. And.... Yes. God, he's so fucking beautiful when he comes. Eyes tightly closed, lips parted, every muscle in his body tense. And that low, hoarse groan that sends a shiver through me every single time I hear it. Marton's throat convulses as he swallows, and it's all I can do to keep from getting up and tasting those lips for myself, how they would taste together. Marton drags his open lips along the sticky trail of Karl's stomach, chest, shoulders until, ah, yes. That's just fucking gorgeous. Although gorgeous is perhaps too tame of a word for how Karl and Marton look right now, tongues lightly dueling, chests and thighs brushing against each other as they continue to kiss. I hold my breath in anticipation of what's to come, biting back my own moan when Karl cups Marton's erection through his slacks, elegant fingers sliding along each ridge. Karl has to have the most talented hands in the world, and he knows exactly how to wring out each moan, each shift of fingers, until I'm mindless, begging for anything and everything, as long as he doesn't stop. Marton doesn't stand a chance. My mouth is dry, and I swallow hard, tongue sliding over my lips to moisten them. It doesn't work. Not that I thought it would. Not with this tableau laid out before me. I'm surprised I can still breathe as Karl's hands move, nimbly slipping each button of Marton's shirt free. Another moan is bitten back as the shirt flutters to the floor, and Karl's hands smooth over Marton's chest, exploring, mapping. And then those hands are sliding down over a trembling stomach to unfasten a button, ease down a zipper. Now it's Marton's turn to moan, the sound soft and rich in the silence, as Karl's fingers close around him and begin a slow dance along his cock. The moan turns into a strangled gasp when Karl's teeth close over Marton's earlobe, marking the supple skin. And each glide of Karl's fingers is assured, smooth, a straight coast into paradise with each flick of his wrist. Marton closes his hands helplessly at Karl's waist, clutching him like a lifeline, face buried in the crook of Karl's neck. I mourn the loss. Marton looks exquisite when he gives himself over completely to his pleasure. Karl's murmuring something in his ear now, but it's too low for me to hear. It's alright, though. Whatever it is, it has Marton trembling again. And watching that beautifully sculpted body as it relaxes fully into Karl's hands is the definition of hot. Again, I'm not at all surprised when Marton's body stiffens. His low, drawn out moan as he spills over Karl's fingers has me aching in my jeans. So beautiful together, so perfect. And both oblivious to the fact that I'm watching. Oblivious, or simply not caring because it turns them on, too. Then, Karl smiles and murmurs to Marton again. I watch as a dark head lifts and dazed eyes look at Karl as he lifts his hand up between their faces. And I almost come right then as I watch him lick his hand clean. I ache, once again, to taste the two of them together on my tongue, but I don't move. In all honesty, I don't think I can. What little brain cells I have left are busy trying to maintain some semblance of control. Their lips meet in another soft caress, tongues lazily lapping at each other, hands gently gliding across sweat-slick skin, and I swallow hard, lost in the beauty of the moment. When I glance up again, I'm startled to see Karl staring at me, amusement shining in heavy-lidded eyes. "Enjoying yourself, Sin?" I can only nod, too turned on to speak. They're wrapped in each other's arms, sated, glorious, like two gods come to life in front of my eyes. "Think we've warped his brain," Karl laughs, tilting his head to give Marton a very private smile that has my blood scrambling to my cock. "I'd say that's a good possibility." "That was, um, nice." I can barely suppress my own wince at the words. Nice. I can do better than that. But I honestly don't have the words to describe them, describe what happened. "Nice, he says," Karl murmurs with another laugh, this one low, carrying a wicked edge. Marton's laughter mingles with his, making me harder than I ever thought possible. And then the two of them are stalking towards me, eyes dark and hot, and all I can do is watch them approach. "Beautiful?" I manage to etch out, suppressing the urge to scuttle backwards. The looks the two of them are giving each other... "Beautiful is better," Karl says, draping himself on my lap, dragging his thigh in a deliberate motion across my crotch. I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning. "Wouldn't you say?" "Beautiful is a good start." Marton smiles -- that small curve of lips that always meant trouble. I don't guess that much has changed. "Anything else you want to add, Sin?" Karl's voice is close to a purr in my ear, and I can't help but jump at the fingers that drag across the back of my neck. Marton. This is what I get for taking my eyes off him. "Exquisite?" My voice wavers a bit, to their amusement. I clear my throat, fighting to keep from moving, from touching either of them. "Keep going," Marton murmurs, breath warm against my other ear. Christ, they're going to kill me. "Um..." I jump again, nails digging deep into my palms, when Karl starts unbuttoning my shirt, nimbly unfastening each one, taking the time to explore each patch of skin. "Hot?" "I like hot," Marton whispers, lips gliding across my neck in another shiver-inducing glide. Jesus... "Definitely hot," Karl agrees, just before his lips close over mine, driving out all thought. Oh...God...I can taste them together, taste Marton thick on Karl's tongue, taste the unique sharpsweet taste that's all Karl. Through it all, I can detect traces of the honey that coated Marton's lips when he kissed Karl. Then hands are touching me, traveling over my chest and sides, and I completely forget about taste in favor of touch. Marton hasn't forgotten exactly where to touch me. And Karl's discovered a few new places in our time together. Places he eagerly shows to Marton. And their laughs mingle again as I moan and shift under Karl, hands clasping his thighs as I grind up against him. "Please..." Not quite certain if I say it aloud, but it doesn't matter. Karl seems to understand, the way he always does, and he draws my shirt off my body, letting it drop to the floor in a careless heap. "Very hot," Karl murmurs, running light fingers across my chest. I open my mouth to say something...not exactly sure what, but Marton takes the opportunity to lick at my lips, tongue stealing into my mouth with a fierce, possessive kiss. Good fucking Christ... I can hear Karl's soft murmurs of encouragement as he settles back to watch. No, don't watch. I don't want him to watch. I want him to join us, join this. So my hand finds his waist, tugs him forward. Then there's a third tongue there, slipsliding across mine, across Marton's. A hot, wet tangle of open-mouthed moans and soft tongues, and it has me trembling, needing, wanting. "Please," I breathe again, gasping the word as I shift again. Please. More. "Shh..." Karl places a finger to my lips, stilling further pleas. "We'll take care of you." "Excellent care," Marton says, dropping to his knees once again, this time taking one of my fingers into his mouth, closing kiss-swollen lips around it. The heat has me surging out of my seat, almost spilling Karl out of my lap. "Christ...." Karl chuckles at my strangled groan. So does Marton, but his is more a vibration along my fingers, up my arm, as he suckles on my index finger. "Don't think he has much to do with it," Karl whispers, shifts back. And then he's out of my lap, kneeling before me, nimble fingers working at the buttons of my jeans. If I thought I was in for trouble before, I realize now that I had no clue as I watch them share a private smile. Marton pops my finger out of his mouth, and he urges my hips up, helping Karl slide my jeans down my legs, then off. I know what's coming next -- of course I do, how could I not, knowing the both of them -- but that doesn't stop my hips from arching up or my hands from digging into the chair when Karl and Marton each lick a long stripe up the side of my cock with gentle tongues. I. Am. Going. To. Die. Cool air puffs across the head of my cock, making me squirm. Definitely going to die. And all they can do is laugh softly, sharing another private look over my cock. My fingers have a death-grip on the chair as they begin, taking turns, one mouth on my cock as the other moves over my balls. Then they switch. And again. They move so easily together, not needing words, and I'm quickly lost in exquisite heat and suction. This is so far beyond even my dreams. Lips and tongues and hands running over my cock, balls, thighs, each of them moving in such perfect synchronicity with each other that it seems impossible that they've never done this before, that we've never shared this until now. I force my eyes open, not wanting to miss a second of this, and catch Karl's quick wink before he takes me deep down his throat, just as Marton's tongue does that little flickering thing. Definitely dead. I arch up, seeking more. It's all I can do to hold my eyes open, to watch them as they toy with me, teasing me. Karl's mouth is as close to perfect as anything can get. Marton's isn't far behind. And the two of them together...heaven, plain and simple. I don't resist when gentle, calloused hands push my thighs further apart. I know what's coming next. Or maybe I don't. OhChristohChrist.... My hips buck, almost choking Karl, as Marton's tongue does that little flicker thing across puckered flesh. Karl swallows, throat working, as his tongue laps every drop, and then he and Marton are kissing again, tongues tangling together, chasing bitterthick droplets from each other's mouth. Dear fucking... I relax into the gentle hands soothing me, certain that I'm never going to move from this chair again. Maybe, one day, if I ever get my bones back. But definitely not anytime soon. 'Sides, the hands and soft touches of lips feel too good. "Love you, Sin," Karl whispers, lips touching mine. Perfect. Even more perfect when Marton's lips join in, sharing the kiss. I don't have the energy to move, to think, as they pet and kiss me. Hell, I barely have the energy to enjoy it with a lazy, sated smile. "Thank you," Marton tells me, golden eyes alight with something that's just beyond gratitude. If I weren't so braindead right now, I might be able to decipher it. Maybe later. Right now, I just nod, and give him another smile. "Perhaps we should move this upstairs?" Move? Karl has got to be kidding. Except, yeah, the bed does sound nice. Warm blankets, soft pillows, plenty of room to cuddle. Even for three. I glance at Karl, just to make sure I'm reading this correctly, and yeah. Their hands help me up, and I'm not sure who's touching where. Don't really care, either. All that matters right now is the bed and curling tight around the both of them. Then it all sorts itself out as Karl takes my hand, takes Marton's hand. Neither of us protests as he tugs us towards the stairs. Yeah, definitely read it correctly. The bed is just as warm and comfortable as I'd thought it would be, and I sink into the mattress, sighing in contentment when Karl snuggles against my back and Marton curls around my front. Feels nice. Like a living sauna. "Thank you," I manage to mumble, eyes slipping closed. Just a small nap...
|