Work Text:
"It's just that you're always," Raleigh says, and pauses to suck another bruise into Chuck's hip, "so quiet."
"I'm -- oh," Chuck says. "Yeah --" and his hips jerk backwards under Raleigh's mouth, working back against Mako's hand; she must have slid another finger in.
Raleigh's teeth scraping against the red mark he was working on is just an accidental byproduct, really.
"Quiet is okay," Mako murmurs. Her lips are barely touching the shell of Chuck's ear, the tips of her hair brushing his cheek. Her voice is half statement, half commendation, a troop leader reassuring a nervous soldier that he's doing well.
Raleigh pushes himself up and just watches them for a moment, blue and black on flushed skin, the light pink of her lips and the dull red of Chuck's ear, her shoulder just visible behind his back, its slow minute movements that signal her fingers working themselves deeper. She smiles a little and Chuck gasps, bites down on some noise that dies too fast for recognition.
"Quiet's okay," Raleigh repeats, but it's a lie. He wants to recognize all of Chuck's noises, spread them out and categorize them and own them, pass them back and forth to Mako and swallow them down himself before Chuck can. He leans down again and latches onto Chuck's quivering stomach, open-mouthed and wet against the lowest muscle, and Chuck hisses and presses forward again, back, and this time the scrape of teeth is entirely intentional, drawing back just before it can turn into a full-on bite.
"I'm just surprised," Raleigh says, and this is true, each and every time he's surprised and a little annoyed and ridiculously turned on. "Quiet in bed, that's not something I'd have expected from you."
"F --" it's only a breath of sound but Raleigh knows how it ends, of course, bending his head to lick a long stripe from the base of Chuck's cock all the way to the head so that the words twist off and die in his mouth, and Chuck whines and his hips stutter again and Raleigh backs off, smug and grinning, and slithers up the bed to kiss one hot panting mouth, then one quietly amused one.
"He did grow up on a base," Mako points out, when Raleigh's ducked down again to investigate nipples -- shudder, muted moan, hand working its way into his hair to clutch at it, helpless pleading noise when Mako clearly turns her fingers just so -- and navel -- something that's half choke and half laugh and a lot incoherent, but still nowhere near the volume Raleigh wants, damn it. "Having to look your neighbors in the face at breakfast each morning tends to foster a desire for privacy."
"I didn't notice your desire for privacy being fostered any," Raleigh says. He moves on, light shallow bites all down the side of Chuck's body, the hand in his hair slack and spasmodically pulling by turns. Mako is kissing Chuck's throat now, his head tossed back even further, pressing into her shoulder while she works him pitilessly higher.
"I --" she says, and Raleigh looks up to see her nuzzle Chuck's ear while her shoulder jerks and Chuck gives the most silent keen Raleigh's ever heard, "was never much for breakfast."
Raleigh laughs, breathes it out over Chuck's sweat-damp skin and the wet patches where his mouth just visited, chases tiny goosebumps with the heat of his tongue. Chuck's hand is pulling at his hair again, insistent, trying to guide him, but Raleigh ignores it and files away the quiet panting moans, stretches a hand over Chuck's waist to reach Mako's stomach. It's an awkward angle to do anything but scratch his nails lightly down her side, but he wishes he could work it between her thighs, make her let some of her unfostered need for privacy out in counterpoint to Chuck's unexpectedly and thoroughly fostered one.
He loves the sounds Mako gives him even better than the ones he sometimes manages to pull out of Chuck, the clear surety of her, the unhesitant desire. Or, well. Maybe these days he loves them something like... well. Never mind that.
He leans his forehead against Chuck's hip and lets himself just breathe them both in for a minute. If Mako would bend her leg and he would move lower, mouth tauntingly level with Chuck's cock again, he could probably manage the logistics involved; he imagines it for a moment, his fingers in her and her fingers buried in Chuck, her mouth pressing moans into the back of Chuck's neck and her hips twisting in that slow, deep rhythm, while his thumb strokes over her clit and Chuck mewls quietly along, half the knowledge of what Raleigh's shifting arm against his waist is doing and half the added ferocity of Mako's slick fingers inside him.
He's raising his hand to lay it on her knee, to signal her to lift and bend, when Mako says, "You're pretty relaxed now."
Raleigh lifts his head. She's speaking quietly, very close to Chuck's ear, her voice warm and intimate. The sound she gets in return is affirmative and confused all at once, the sound of a man quite loose from his place in the proceedings, unsure where anything is going besides sensation and touch and frustrated pleasure. Raleigh presses his smile into Chuck's skin, then leans away again, reasoning that even mild stimulation probably won't help much in getting an actual answer.
"I think," Mako continues, nuzzling in under Chuck's ear, clearly either not on board with this logic or not caring much about results, "maybe Raleigh will fuck you now. Would you like that?"
"Guh," Chuck says, and Raleigh can hear Mako's fingers gently sliding loose. "Uh. Good plan." Raleigh is impressed with how much verbal coherency he's apparently held back in reserve.
Mako kisses his shoulder, smiles down at where Raleigh is manfully refraining from grinding against the sheets. "I don't think he's up to multitasking at the moment," she says. "So I'll wait my turn."
Raleigh grins at her. "Your self sacrifice's noted, pilot," he says. "Believe me, I'll make it worth your while."
Mako smiles again, certain and self-satisfied. "Yes," she says. Then, thoughtfully, "I think next time maybe I'll fuck you, first," and Raleigh smiles back and then lifts up to kiss her, slow and thorough. He's pretty sure that look means the strap-on, and that's a good plan, too. They haven't done that in a while.
"Thought it was my turn," Chuck mumbles, not really a complaint. Raleigh wonders if he caught that; Chuck still hasn't gotten over being a little freaked out by the strap-on, gets distracted and wide-eyed when Mako presses forward into Raleigh's body, kisses him much too carefully while Raleigh pants and babbles nonsense into his mouth.
He's right, either way, and while he's still on monosyllabic words, Raleigh thoroughly disapproves of him being able to string so many of them together just now. He lets Mako bite his lower lip in silent agreement and pulls back, leaning up fully to encourage Chuck's legs straight, roll him on his stomach while Mako sinks down and turns Chuck's head to the side so she can kiss him. The angle is awkward, but no one complains, and Raleigh watches them for a moment before bending down to kiss the small of Chuck's back, to lay slow kisses in a trail down his spine until he gets to the crack of his ass and hears Chuck whine lowly into Mako's mouth as Raleigh spreads him open and licks into him.
"I thought," Chuck pants after a moment of this, of squirming up against Raleigh's mouth and twitching his hips like he's chasing the movement of his tongue, of the noise he's making growing steadily louder, steadily but much too slowly, "you were going to fuck me."
"How the fuck are you talking right now," Raleigh wants to know. He can barely form a sentence, and he's still not even humping the bed.
"He does save on all the other noise," Mako says. "It must go somewhere."
"It's not a question of noise, it's a question of brain function --" but he's already reaching for the lube, Mako and Chuck both watching, their eyes hot on his skin, and Raleigh doesn't linger even though he really wants to, bends to lay firm hands over Chuck's hips and coax them up, Chuck's knees bending and his forehead turning to press into the sheets again, and Chuck's just panting now but it's almost better than actual sounds.
Raleigh thinks this is almost his favorite part, Chuck's obedient body that's never like this, never pliant and trusting and needy (except for all the other ways that it really, really is), but he forgets that thought when he starts pressing inside. This will always have to be his favorite part, because Chuck is hot around him and the drag of it is enough to make Raleigh insane with the need to move faster, because Chuck is swearing under his breath and clawing at the sheets and at Mako's hand, because Mako's eyes are still burning-hot on them both while Raleigh pushes in, slow and steady and nearly undone, and then he's almost all the way inside and he pauses, breathes, and Mako lowers her head, and Raleigh knows she bites the back of Chuck's neck hard because Chuck howls.
After that things become less clear, whether it's him fucking into Chuck or Chuck fucking himself back on his cock or the universe somehow moving them into each other, somehow in rhythm, the neural handshake of sex. Raleigh is only half-aware of anything that's not this frantic friction, only knows Mako's other hand is moving languidly between her legs because of the fact that she's Mako and he's always aware of her, and because she's always the hottest fucking thing he's ever seen like this.
And then he must move just right, because Chuck swears much more loudly than before, fervent and worshipful, and Mako grins and reaches to stroke her hand down his cheek -- the hand that was just inside her, fingers still wet and glistening -- and Chuck may not be up to the multitasking involved in eating her out right now, but he's enough of a well-trained pilot to turn his head and catch her fingers between his lips.
And maybe that's the hottest thing Raleigh's ever seen after all, Chuck's kiss-bruised mouth going down those slim fingers, the way Raleigh knows the taste of them by heart and the texture and the way they press against your tongue, the fact that he knows the way that mouth feels around you and how Chuck's tongue feels sweeping over the pads of your fingers and dipping in between them, whether it's teasing with promise or nearly helpless like it is just now.
Chuck is too busy sucking on Mako's fingers now to make more than a sort of muffled, continuous hum, and Mako's breathing is loud and a little faster than normal but she isn't saying anything, and so somewhere at the edge of his attention Raleigh can hear himself now, words that keep winding down into incoherent, nameless sounds. He's moving faster and harder now, and the corded muscles of Chuck's back say he wants to crash back against him but he's holding in place, letting Raleigh do the work instead of moving away from Mako's fingers in his mouth, and Raleigh breathes out a nonsense promise he can't even track himself, a half-prayer that dies into a moan, and orgasm hits him just before he can brace for it, clutching too hard at Chuck's hip and thigh while his throat closes up around a shout.
He's slumped forward, barely holding himself up from Chuck's body, when he becomes aware that Chuck's talking again, half-swallowed pleas and condemnations. Raleigh blinks slowly and tries to focus, but then Mako's hands are on him, helping him pull out and away slowly, letting him sprawl sideways onto the bed.
The bed is moving again, rhythmically, and sleep is pulling at him but Raleigh resists. Chuck says, sounding wrecked, "Sorry -- do you want --"
"It's all right," Mako says, warm and amused and breathless. "You'd be done before you could do me much good. This is -- ah..."
He forces his eyes to slit open. Chuck's on his back now, lying full out, and Mako is straddling him. Raleigh thinks for a moment that she's riding him, but he sees she's just rubbing against him, fast and nearly-uncontrolled, yet still keeping him from pushing up against her in return. Chuck's eyes are closed, his head pressed as far back against the bed as it will go, his throat long and bare. His lips are moving, but Raleigh can't hear anything beyond harsh breath and Mako's small moans, slowly rising in pitch and speed.
He's too tired to move, he's too tired to anything, but a man can only hold out against so much. He rolls closer and stretches in, noses against Chuck's throat, and when Chuck huffs a silent shuddery laugh Raleigh fastens his mouth onto his throat and does the best vampire impression he's capable of right now, except without the teeth. Almost without the teeth.
Chuck doesn't yell, which is disappointing, but he garbles out a string of non-words and tries his damndest to buck up against Mako as if that's not a completely hopeless endeavor, tosses his head so hard he nearly dislodges Raleigh -- unintentional, as far as Raleigh can tell -- and comes apart half-choking on a wordless sound, his hand once again tangled in Raleigh's hair, somewhere between pulling him away and forcing him closer.
Raleigh grins against Chuck's skin, his eyes closed again. The bed is still moving, Mako's moans growing louder, but she must have moved lower because Chuck doesn't seem to be bothered about overstimulation.
In fact, Chuck's mouth is open and he looks even more half-asleep than Raleigh feels. Raleigh flops into a better position and turns his smile on Mako, whose eyes are closed and whose face is flushed as she rubs against Chuck's thigh, the bed shaking and the sound turning into one of Raleigh's favorite Mako-things -- one of his many, many favorite Mako-things -- a sound that's half-groan and half-growl, stretching forward as she keeps moving frantically, whether it's Chuck's thigh or her own hand that's doing the work. He works his hand down Chuck's side and onto her knee, and her eyes slide open and fix on him while she works her way towards her first orgasm. Raleigh bets they can get her at least two more. Once he feels alive again.
She stiffens and presses down hard and Raleigh holds on and watches her shudder through it. Even biting out Japanese words too quiet for him to make out, she's still somehow uninhibited, as free in her skin just now as if she were screaming the roof down.
Mako moans and slides down, sprawling over Chuck's body, and Chuck's arms come up to wrap around her. Asshole kid always has to show Raleigh up with how fast he recovers.
Raleigh groans his contentment and slides closer, taking her hand and bringing it up to his mouth. He loves the smell of her, that same familiar taste he was remembering earlier. He sucks gently on the tips of her fingers and she mumbles something, still too quiet and now slurred to make out.
One of Chuck's hands wanders down from Mako's body and out of Raleigh's field of vision. He feels it move onto his back, stroking slowly, familiar calluses against his skin. More familiar still, because they echo the calluses on the fingers against his lips, on his own fingers. They still bear some of the marks of war, of doing what you love best and doing what you have to.
People tell Raleigh that he'll never have to do anything again, now that he's a war hero. He supposes doing what you love best is all that's left.
"Stop thinking," Mako mumbles.
Raleigh smiles a little against her skin. The hand on his back is still. "They're good thoughts," he says.
Chuck's hand spreads further on his skin, warm and large and steady. "Sleep now, old timer," he says, quietly. "Thinking later. Maybe in the morning you can burn breakfast again."
That's not the worst plan, either.