Fic: Yoshino, McKay/Carter/Sheppard, NC-17, part 2

[eretria]

Sam looked around, comparing Rodney's suite to her own economy room at the hotel near Dulles Airport. She sucked in her breath. She'd seen luxurious before; she'd been on Goa'uld motherships that were hedonistic showplaces, but this was still impressive, and unlike anything Goa'uld, in its good taste. The suite had everything: dining room, balcony, piano in the room overlooking the monument - Jesus, a piano - a king-sized bed with the four dark posters, fresh flowers...Every single thing looked wealthy and stylish and just right - and she knew why Rodney chosen the hotel. The indulgence was small compared to things he could have asked for and she didn't want to comment, but knew he expected her to.

"You planned this, didn't you?"

He looked flustered, as though he was trying hard to look hurt by her comment, but the utter delight that was just barely contained gave him away: He was glad she had asked.

"All the best Earth can provide," he said, managing to convey the rest of it: isn't this what we deserve, more than medals that go back into a vault at the end of the evening, never to be seen until they all are probably dead and the Stargate Program was declassified?

Sheppard chuckled. "For as much every night as a lot of people make all year." He shrugged, though. "What the hell, it's only money. It won't do us any good in Atlantis."

"Exactly."

Sam couldn't argue with that.

The moments trickled past too slow as they all stood there quietly and took in what was on display. Sheppard looked like something from a 40s movie in his black tux, leaning against the patent leather shine and curve of the piano. He wasn't as sure as he looked at first; his hand was locked on the edge of the piano and the knuckles were white. There was still hesitancy there and Sam wasn't sure how to break it. She wasn't even sure if coming here was such a good idea. Kissing and mutual groping were one thing, but this… This was a lot bigger. She looked at Rodney and Sheppard and swallowed when she remembered Sheppard's hands on her leg, under her skirt, skin hot against hers and Rodney's lips against hers. Dark arousal was still pooled low in her belly. Sheppard swallowed and his Adam's apple bobbed under skin that she wanted to taste. Rodney started moving restlessly, searching for the bar. She watched the mole on the back of his neck and wanted to touch it. He turned his back to her and bent down to retrieve a bottle of Whisky and three stout glasses. The clink of glass against glass was too loud.

"Whisky?"

"Whisky's good," Sam said. She slipped her wrap off and folded it over the back of a chair, setting her little purse on the seat.

Sheppard nodded.

Rodney handed the glasses to Sheppard and Sam before filling them - too full; his hands weren't entirely steady.

"Cheers."

"Bottoms up," Sam toasted recklessly and took a swallow.

The whisky fumes were heady and Sam was once again reminded of how both Rodney and Sheppard had tasted when she first kissed them. The silence grew deafening, even after they clinked their glasses together and drank. Sam suddenly couldn't stand it anymore.

She tossed her drink back - a waste, she knew, the whisky probably cost more than she made in a week - and reached out. Took the glasses from Rodney's and Sheppard's hands and placed them on the table. Pulled Rodney down to her and kissed him deeply, tasting smoky whisky and need before she stepped away and turned to Sheppard. His eyes flickered over her face and for a moment she was afraid that he would leave. She didn't let him, reached for the lapels of his tux and pulled him flush against her before crashing her lips to his. There was no hesitance there when he opened her lips and kissed her deep enough to strip her senses away. She knew she could get addicted to those lips and the way he kissed if she was not careful. To both of them, if she was honest. They made up for all she had missed in the past and she didn't know whom she wanted more right that moment.

Sheppard kissed her with the same undivided attention Rodney had given her before, his hands moving on her shoulders, disturbing the strap again, slithering it down her arms, but there was more. It was like he was searching for something, a lingering taste. A stab of arousal ran through her when she realized what he probably didn't even understand himself: he was trying to find Rodney's taste on her tongue.

She pulled away, panting. Sheppard looked at her with hooded eyes. Rodney's eyes were bright and he, too, was breathing fast. He reached out for the silver strap. Ran his index finger over and around it in circles that grew bigger with every new sweep, coming close to her breasts, grazing but never quite touching, stirring goose flesh on her arms. Sheppard mirrored Rodney and soon they had her shivering and aching for more.

It was Sheppard who finally abandoned her arm and ghosted a finger over her cleavage. Over the top of her dress. Under it, just dipping in before moving on, teasing her.

It was too much. She took both men's wrists and turned, pulling them into the bedroom.

She let go and turned around, facing them and before they could come any closer she ordered: "Strip."

Rodney grinned his smug little grin and shrugged out of his jacket immediately, while Sheppard stood there by the bedpost, giving Sam this disbelieving lift of an eyebrow, a look that telegraphed, You did not just 'order' me to take off my clothes. Except Sam had and she gave him an imperious little headlift in response. Very slowly, he lifted his hands to his tie and began unknotting it. His look challenged her to take something off as well.

Sam had always loved challenges.

With a toss of her head she reached her back, a contortion that made her arch a little and Rodney suck in his breath in appreciation, and unhooked the catch at the top of her dress. One tug then had the zip sliding down, silky lining slipping over her skin like a caress until it was no more than dark blue puddle around her feet.

Sheppard was staring at her. Rodney was staring at her. There was something thrilling about stunning them both into immobility. Sam liked being in charge and had a feeling that if she didn't keep control now, Rodney would try to take over, causing Sheppard to go. She'd have liked to have seen was under the BDUs that were all she had seen him in until tonight, though he was spectacular in the black tuxedo.

Seeing Rodney push his sleeve up and pinch his forearm made her laugh out loud. She stepped away from her dress and walked over to the chair holding her purse to fish out the packet of condoms she'd tucked inside along with her credit card, some cash, a little make-up, a bottle of Mace and her hotel key. So she wasn't a Boy Scout, she could still be prepared, she'd always figured. She hadn't had any plans, but she never wanted to rely on whatever a man might have had squished in his wallet for the last six months.

"Honestly, even my hallucinations aren't this good," Rodney said, rubbing at where he pinched.

"It's going to get better," Sam promised. She held up the little gold foil packages so the light caught on them, tossed through the doorway to land on the bed and strolled over to Rodney, watching his eyes get wider, the pupils dilating, and knowing what he was seeing: her, in a strapless satin bra and panties set, purchased to match the dress she really couldn't afford, opera length gloves, thigh-high sheer silk stockings and blue high heels with a strap around her ankle.

"Oh my God, you're beautiful, you're really incredible," Rodney blurted out as she stopped in front of him.

Sam grinned. "Didn't I tell you to do something?"

"I'm a civilian," Rodney replied and set his hands on her hips. He was looking down her bra. Under the circumstances, it would have been insulting if he hadn't looked. His thumbs were moving in little circles over her hipbones, just above the lace edge of her underwear.

Sam snapped her fingers in front of his nose. "Undressing? You're falling behind." She turned her head and looked at Sheppard. His tie dangled from his collar but he hadn't moved to take anything else off. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

He glanced past her, looking at Rodney, and hesitated. Rodney lifted his hands away from Sam and began working on his shirt studs, fumbling a little, a faint tremor in his fingers. Sam was proud of that. She had just spent three weeks working on incredibly delicate Ancient equipment along with Rodney. One slip and they could have blown up most of Antarctica. Rodney's hands had never shook once. And Sheppard had never hesitated once when Rodney had told him to do something.

"Yes, Colonel," Rodney added, "are you slow?" One of the studs dropped down to the carpet, glinting dull gold by lamplight.

Sheppard still hadn't moved.

Sam swayed over to him, the high heels making her strut. They sank into the lush carpet and if she hadn't wanted the height they gave her, she'd have kicked them off. She needed it for now, though, as she stopped in front of Sheppard. She wanted his attention on her. He and Rodney may have showered in the same SGC facilities; seen each other naked in the locker room, but this was very different. It was naked with intent. It was funny, but she could see, Rodney wasn't the one who was nervous. It was Sheppard, but then, Sheppard was Air Force and had had the rules drummed into him, just like Sam had.

Sam never made a conscious, in her right mind, move on O'Neill while he was her team leader or superior officer, and she would never get involved with a subordinate, but while she and Sheppard held the same rank, they lived in different galaxies, and she would fly out to Area 51 again tomorrow while he and Rodney were going back to Atlantis. Possibly the wine and whiskey and champagne had combined to make this seem like a better idea than it really was, but she couldn't see the harm in it, either.

She set her hands on his lapels and pushed the jacket off, down over his shoulders. Sheppard stood there and let her, eyes glinting, a smile playing over his lips. His gaze drifted back over her shoulder to Rodney, though, and turned unsure. There was a heat there, too, that Sam thought she recognized, and she wondered if he was even aware of it or if that wasn't what scared him. It made her smile.

She tossed his jacket toward the couch. It hit and slithered to the floor. Between her dress, Rodney's shirt studs and Sheppard's jacket, the room was taking on a lived-in look.

"Hey," Sheppard protested quietly. "The rent was expensive, you know."

"Forget it, I'll fucking buy it," Rodney said from just behind her. Sam hadn't heard his steps. The thick carpet had muffled them. She ignored him in favor of working on Sheppard's belt. He was looking spooked.

"Maybe - "

"Stop thinking, Colonel," Rodney told him. Sheppard stiffened when Rodney said Colonel, pulling back from Sam, and in turn, Rodney. Rodney needed to stop using Sheppard's rank and reminding him, Sam decided, or Sheppard would end up so spooked he'd bolt. She took Sheppard's face in her hands and stood on her toes a little more to kiss him. It was like the kiss at the reflecting pool, luxurious and slow as cold honey when Sheppard relaxed into it and kissed her back. She liked his tongue in her mouth, liked the heat radiating off him through the layers of his tux, even the feel of his trousers against her silk clad legs.

A new sensation added to the heat as Rodney's lips touched her neck, moist and warm. His breath stirred her hair. Her hands on Sheppard's belt grew unsteady for a moment - Sheppard was stripping her senses with his tongue and Rodney was mouthing the back of her neck to her ear and all she wanted for a few second was to let go of control, but she remembered the thrill it gave her to have them obey her and so she kissed Sheppard back a little more forcefully while she pulled his belt free. Sheppard stepped back, his lips swollen and his eyes dark and startled. She dropped the heavy leather of the belt onto the floor where it landed with a resounding thud. His hands flexed on her hip in a teasing encouragement and he grinned. She made short work of the button and unzipped him … and couldn't hold back the laugh when the pants slithered off his slim hips.

Her laughter shook her and the vibration traveled to where Rodney was touching her. He was pressing against her back, his chest bare. Apparently he had gotten out of his shirt while she had been kissing Sheppard, and, who knew Rodney McKay would have such a nice chest? It was broad and smooth against her back, that little scattering of hair she had seen through the open shirt earlier scratched her back.

She was still chuckling when Sheppard stepped out of his pants. Rodney put his chin on her shoulder and snorted. "Everybody in Atlantis knows what his boxers look like," Rodney said. The gust of air accompanying his words ghosted over her cleavage, surprisingly arousing.

"Not my fault the BDUs don't fit better," Sheppard replied, a pout on his face and in his voice. It was much more sexy than it should be. "Besides," he continued, "nobody else is complaining."

She felt Rodney looking up at Sheppard. His voice was too low to be entirely intentional: "I didn't say I was."

At that, Sheppard was already tensing up again under her hands, pulling away, and Sam caught his hands. Rubbed his wrists in little circles for a while before pulling his hands around her waist. Despite still being tense, he followed her quiet instructions. His hands were warm and lightly calloused and fit perfectly over her hips, kneading and rubbing small circles. His fingers dipped down to her ass, sweeping up to her shoulder blades as she moved closer to him, against heat and soft skin. Rodney followed when she moved away from him, stepped closer and Sam felt Sheppard freeze completely when the backs of his hands brushed against Rodney's chest.

Rodney's hands tightened on her hips. Neither man was looking at each other, they both held perfectly still. Sam felt Rodney's heart against her back, and she could see the jump of Sheppard's pulse on that beautiful neck. She didn't need to look up any more to know that they both had their eyes closed now. The dynamic between them was complex, and if she was not entirely mistaken, very different from what they thought. She was going to have to gather some more data before she took more steps, though. Luckily, that task was going to be a real pleasure tonight.

She pushed her hips back against Rodney and felt his erection push against her through his pants. It shouldn't surprise her, but it was still a thrill to know how easily she affected him. His fingers dipped over her hip-bone toward her belly and hit a particularly sensitive spot and she had to admit that Rodney’s attraction to her was in no way one-sided. Back when they had worked on the malfunctioning gate, she had told him that she was attracted to him. She alone knew that it hadn't only been a teasing remark to throw him off-balance back then.

"Off with the pants, McKay," she teased, wiggling against him.

"Oh, God, yes," Rodney muttered and stepped back a little, making her miss his warmth and the feel of his chest against her. The sound of the button opening and the zipper being lowered was obscenely loud, but it was a welcome sound.

She looked up at Sheppard and saw his eyes flickering and unsure, his jaw tense and his posture unnaturally still. She heard Rodney drop his pants.

Sheppard had gone too still and she slipped her hand down the front of his boxers to distract him from Rodney. "You too ...John," she said, using his given name for the first time. His quick, indrawn breath was accompanied by a shift of hips, pressing into her palm, hot under the thin fabric of his boxers. Sam felt a corresponding need to squirm and grind against something between her own legs; she wasn't here just for the men, she needed tonight, too. She pressed her palm against him. Just a little encouragement, though it didn't feel like he needed much in that department. A soft groan slipped past his slightly parted lips and his eyelids dropped to half-closed.

Sam took advantage and kissed him again, closing her teeth gently on his lower lip. One more teasing rub against John's erection and she turned in his arms to face Rodney.

Who was standing in pin-striped boxers and dark socks, everything else, even his watch, gone. She couldn't help grinning. Rodney wasn't quite the image of suave she knew he'd like to present, not with the socks and the tent at the front of his boxers, but he wasn't ridiculous. The intensity of his gaze precluded that.

She pointed at the socks. "Cold feet, McKay?"

Behind her, John laughed. She felt it vibrate from his chest against her back and was relieved. He was finally starting to loosen up. That was good, because this wouldn't work unless he let go. Rodney glared and toed off the socks. John's hand stroked over the curve of her ribcage and she recognized the roughness of familiar calluses. A sweet, heavy warmth spread through her.

It was enough to distract her. Rodney's hands joined John's in a slow, expert exploration. Her nipples tightened and her cheeks flushed. John's breath moved through her hair, stirring the short strands, damp and hot. The damn bra was starting to chafe against her. Rodney skimmed his fingers over the tops of her breasts and John's hands had come up to cup them from below. He played with her breasts through the bra, lifting them into Rodney's teasing touch, while Rodney flirted with the lace at the edges. The stiffened material of the push-up bra muted everything to a frustrating degree, however.

Breathless, Sam decided it was time to do something about that. Time to take charge. Ordering them both to do what she wanted was proving to be a real turn-on and they'd obeyed so far. Licking lips that felt swollen with kissing already, she moaned a little as Rodney flicked at her nipple through the bra. His gaze was bright and hungry.

"Rodney."

He hovered his hands between her breasts, over the front fastener. John's fingers were brushing against his. Sam looked down at the picture they made and tried to breath through the arousal burning hotter and hotter within her. She was already wet and impatient to get to the bed.

"Shall I?" Rodney asked and added, "You're giving the orders tonight," proving he was cleverer and more observant than anyone who hadn't worked with him would believe.

"Do it," Sam told him. Her voice was huskier than usual. "Move it, McKay."

His hands were deft. He didn't fumble or hesitate and why that surprised her, she didn't know, but why it turned her on was obvious. She hoped his mouth was a talented as his fingers.

With the fastener open, John peeled the bra away and tossed it; Sam didn't care where. Rodney bent over her breast, his mouth on her nipple and she had to grab onto his shoulders when the hot, wet suction started.

"Did I tell you to do that?" she choked out.

John's lips brushed her ear and his breath was hot against it, making her shiver. "You didn't tell him not to." The rough, whisky rasp John's voice had taken on was just another spike of pleasure. He was getting into this and that made it much, much better, just like his palm, circling over the nipple of her other breast, his thumb brushing against Rodney's cheek each time it hollowed.  "We can stop any time."

"You don't stop until I tell you," Sam ground out. She'd have liked to drop her head back against John's shoulder and let this go on and on, but she'd rather stay in control a little longer. There was the bed just begging to be messed up by the three of them. With a regretful sigh, she pushed Rodney away. "Bed, now."

Rodney's mouth was wet and reddened and he looked...debauched already, Sam thought. She gave him a push and he followed her order, sitting on the edge of the bed. John wasn't quite as cooperative, hesitating again as Sam moved out of his arms and tugged him around, but a glance down showed he was as aroused as Rodney was. She wanted the boxers off, but decided the unbuttoned shirt could stay. The blinding white against John's darker skin, framing his chest, appealed to her.

"On your back," she told Rodney and he scooted back on the bed, spread out and looking particularly fuckable.

Beside her, John's breath stuttered. Sam walked him to where she wanted him and then pushed him off balance and down onto the bed. He fell back and froze as his hand encountered Rodney's shin. Rodney's hands were clenching and releasing on the coverlet, as though he wanted to touch more, himself, her, John, but wouldn't let himself. Neither of them moved an inch.

"Stay there," Sam instructed them both.

The two of them, both headstrong by all reports, doing everything she told them would be enough to get her hot by itself. She had to take a couple of breaths and figure out what came next. Rodney or John first? John's fingers flexed on Rodney's leg and Rodney gasped quietly. John's head turned toward him and his breathing picked up, too. Sam decided.

"Spread your legs."

John's gaze jerked back to Sam, eyes widening, but he slowly opened his thighs wider.

It was a bit of a trick, because Sam didn't spend a lot of time in three-inch heels, but she placed one foot on the edge of the bed, between John's legs, while balancing on one leg.

"Oh God," Rodney moaned.

"Take it off," Sam ordered.

Both of them stared at her. John traced over her leg from toe to hip and back with his gaze and he licked his lips. He closed his hand around her ankle, then down over her heel to the spike. The tips of his ears were flushed and he rubbed his thumb over the shoe, up and down. Sam felt a little giddy. She just found a John Sheppard kink. Who knew? The way he was stroking the leather of her shoe was making her breath hitch.

"Do you like that?" she purred at him.

The press of his erection, heavy and unmistakable, against the front of his boxers said yes. John just breathed in and out. Sam rocked her foot in his hand, while wondering how long she could maintain this position.

"Do you?" Rodney asked, in a voice rough and hungry enough to make Sam tremble.

John closed his eyes, just for an instant, and choked out, "Yes."

Sam could feel her leg going wobbly, though. "I told you to take it off," she snapped at him, with a whip crack to her voice that would have made a Parris Island DI proud. John jerked out of his half trance, but his eyes were dilated and a little dazed. He was completely into what they were doing now. He slid the pump off her foot and dropped it. Stroked her instep absently. It felt like it had in the car, hot and firm through the filter of the silk. It made her toes curl and then his touch almost tickled, making her squeal and jerk and wobble, grabbing at the bedpost to keep her balance.

"Damn it," she muttered ruefully.

"Not quite the professional dominatrix, huh, Sam?" Rodney laughed at her. He was sitting up and grinning. Even John looked amused, releasing her foot so she could switch feet and kick off the other pump. As soon as she had, she leaned past John and cuffed the side of Rodney's head.

He caught her hand and breathed a damp kiss through the material of her glove over her wrist. Sam had to blow out a breath and tug her hand away, before crawling onto the bed between them. She tried for sexy, but suspected she just looked silly. It didn't seem to make a difference to Rodney or John.

John looked doubtful again, however. Rodney didn't have a problem with the three of them together, in fact, he was amusingly eager about the whole thing, but John…There was doubt there, he was nowhere near as sure as Rodney was. Hell, she wasn't sure why and how she had come to offer this, but she wasn't going to back down now. With her dress lying abandoned on the floor, she was only dressed in her underwear and her thigh-highs and gloves; it was a little late to have doubts. She remembered John touching the stockings in the car and blood rushed to her face. He had incredible hands. Long, slim and slightly rough in texture, but warm and skilled. She wanted that touch again, without the constant feeling of being watched by the limousine-driver.

She lay back on her elbows and bent her knee, circling at the ankle, pointing her left foot at John. "Stocking," she demanded. John obliged. His hands skimmed over her shin and calves to her knee, circling around it for a moment before continuing a slow journey to the top of her thigh where the lace lay tight on her skin. His index and middle finger dipped under the lace top and she couldn't help the shiver. "Stop," she said, and with a reluctant caress, he did, looking up at her, perplexed and unsure.

"Rodney." She looked at Rodney on her other side. He wasn't moving, just stared at John and Sam, mouth slightly open, breath flowing fast. Back to John, who frowned for a second, then bent over her leg with an almost feral expression. Touched his lips to first the outside, then the inside of her thigh, making her shiver again. The shiver turned into goosebumps when his tongue met her skin through the silk stockings and his teeth - with some help of his right hand - closed around the lace top.

Hot, hot, moist breath on the inside of her thigh, just enough to reach her panties. Sam wanted to groan.

"Rodney," she said again instead, whipping the words out, covering up the hot stab of arousal she felt as John started pulling the thigh-high down her leg with his teeth.

She pointed a hand in his direction and his gaze moved from John's mouth - God, those lips were even more incredible on her legs than they were kissing her - to her arm that was still covered in the opera glove. A gleam lit up Rodney's eyes and he took her hand again, running his palm over the dark blue satin in movements that were slow and frustrating.

In a moment of unspoken understanding, the sort Sam was more used to seeing between team members under fire, John and Rodney's gazes met and they act in concert. John drew the stocking down Sam's leg in sync with Rodney tugging her glove off. It made Sam shiver. So did watching John run the silky length of stocking between his fingers. A glimpse of the bedpost behind him gave her wicked, wicked idea.

It was easy to roll over and straddle him, to push him down flat on the bed with her hand on his chest. Not so easy to ignore the heat, the soft crinkle of chest hair and a tight nipple riding over lean muscle, or the hard thump of his heartbeat. Sam did it. She had a plan. She pulled his hands up to the post at the head of the bed. "Hold on," she whispered to him, stretching over him and slipping her stocking away from his slack fingers. The silk was still warm from her body. He moved, startled and maybe not so into this when she wound the silk around one wrist, but Rodney was there, taking John's wrists and holding them in place as Sam tied both hands firmly to the bed post.

John's breath sawed in and out and he craned his head back to look at his hands. "Rodney?" he murmured, half question, half disbelief, but he was still hard when Sam checked. His gaze flickered from his hands to Sam to Rodney. "What the hell are you doing?" It was funny and telling that he didn't ask Sam that, but she still answered.

"Making sure you don't run away," she told him and patted his chest, noticing he'd broken out in a light sweat. She added, "You keep talking about leaving, Colonel. We can't have that. Can we, Rodney?

"I don't run away," John protested, while Sam stripped his black boxers off.

Rodney snorted softly. "Yes, you do," he said, "So we're not giving you the chance."

Sam took the opportunity to slide the open dress shirt wider, so that it was rucked up near John's armpits. She liked the way he sucked his breath in, the way his stomach hollowed under his ribcage, the shiver she felt run through him where her thighs touched his sides, as she ran her fingers through the tufts of dark hair under his arms. The shirt kept her from seeing the muscles in his arms flex, but he twisted against the binding in a way that jolted heat through her like never before.

Rodney's hands were still around John's wrists. One thumb rubbed over the knotted stocking. John's throat was one long line of tension as he stared at that connection between them. Sam kissed the knob of his Adam's apple, feeling it move under her lips as John swallowed, then moved up to kiss his mouth, deep and dirty and wet. She didn't let it end until he was rubbing his entire body against her, against the sheets, against anything that would provide a little friction and he was moaning into her mouth non-stop. She was shivering, the muscles inside her quivering and aching, hovering on the edge of an orgasm without even a touch.

Not yet, though, she wanted everything, and she hadn't forgotten Rodney; in fact, now she could concentrate on him.

With a pat to John's chest, she slid off him. It was the work of a moment to strip off her other glove, her other stocking and her underwear and toss them. The condom packet slipped under her knee and she tossed it up to the pillows. Then Rodney surprised her, pulling her over him in one smooth move that had her straddling his hips, the tip of his cock nudging up against her soft, slick folds, making them both moan. "Condom," Sam reminded him when he rocked his hips up, sliding against her until all she wanted was to take him inside.

"Fuck," he muttered.

Sam pinched his nipple and he curled up, cursing and panting at the same time, cock slipping away from her just a little.

"You know, I'd help, but I'm a little tied up, here," John said, his voice hoarse. He was watching Sam, watching Rodney fumble and tear at a condom wrapper, even watching as Sam took it and rolled it onto Rodney's erection. Her leg was brushing against his hip.

She lowered herself over Rodney and kissed the hollow of his collarbone, then down to one tight nipple. Then arched her back to give him a good show while Rodney played with her breasts - she'd always been a little proud of her breasts, they were damn pretty - and that distracted her from John thoroughly. So did Rodney's hands, of course he could multitask, as he insinuated them between her legs, teasing and fingering her until the insides of her thighs were wet and she was shuddering and falling through a climax that was better than she'd had in at least two years.

"Rodney, if you don't untie me..."

She was still shuddering through the aftermath when Rodney untied one of John's hands, pulled it down and slid John's fingers into Sam's open mouth. John rolled onto his side and then it was John's fingers, and Rodney's fingers, and she brought her own hand to her mouth and licked her fingers too, before interlacing them with John's and bringing them down. Rodney's hands were damp on her hips and they left cool trails over her skin as he pulled her down and pushed inside her, swollen flesh filling her, and John jerked in surprise as he touched where Sam was stretched around Rodney. It was absolutely necessary to kiss Rodney; to suck his tongue in rhythm with the rock of their hips, before finding John's mouth, so that he could lick every trace of Rodney's from her tongue.

"Untie me," he begged into her mouth, twisting and dragging his erection against Rodney and Sam helplessly, just needing skin and friction.

"Not yet," she gasped back, catching his lip between her teeth and biting. "Not yet, not yet, not yet," she repeated as she began cresting toward another orgasm.

John was rubbing himself against Rodney now and she saw the instant he realized it, but he didn't stop, didn't stop circling his thumb over her clit either, until she dragged it away and wrapped his fingers, still wet with her juices, around his cock. Then he was squeezing and pulling himself desperately.

Sam wanted to watch him come for her and Rodney, wanted the sticky wet evidence to spill over them both, it made her clench inside and that set off a chain reaction, of Rodney bucking into her and babbling, "God, Sam, you're so hot, so tight, fucking fantastic, this is, this is, I never dreamed you'd be this good, I mean I dreamed you'd be good, but not this good and John - " before his mouth snapped shut on whatever else he would have blurted out.

"Rodney?"

"Yes," he hissed, thrusting up and feeling huge inside her. His eyes were squeezed shut.

"Make him come."

Those blue eyes snapped open as she took the hand nearest John from her hip and placed it over John's hand on his cock. One squeeze, one buck of Rodney's hips and Sam was climaxing again and felt the pulse inside that told her Rodney was coming, and John was jerking into both their hands, striping his come over their skin and the sheets with a whispered, breathless, "Fuck!"

Later, when she could think again, Sam rolled off Rodney and nearly off the side of the bed. Her heart was still pounding hard. Both men looked like their brains had been short-circuited, too. The bed was a spectacular mess and so were they. She wobbled on weak legs into the bathroom before she began chuckling and smothered her laughter with running water. One of John's arms was still stretched over his head, tied to the bedpost, his shirt was never going to recover, and Rodney was flat on his back, with the filled condom slipping off him. A glimpse of herself in the mirror just sparked more laughter. Her lipstick was gone, her hair looked like a haystack and there were hickeys on her breasts.

She managed a creditable repair job on her appearance thanks to the well-stocked washroom, then padded back out to the bed with a warm, wet washcloth to clean both men up. Rodney was asleep, with his hand still on John's softened cock. John had one leg thrown over Rodney's and his face against Rodney's shoulder. She wavered between chuckling at them and smiling.

She cleaned them up gently, as well as she could. Rodney's hand slipped off John's cock but stayed on his leg. When she was done, she crawled next to Rodney, wriggling against him until snug against his side, her leg over Rodney's so that her knee nudged against John's on the other side. Their breathing and the heavy warmth in her limbs lulled her. She looked out the window at the city that was still the same outside, oblivious to what had happened in this room, and smiled before she closed her eyes. Sleep came easily.

*~*

Sam woke up to wet suction on the inside of her thigh and on her ribcage. She wondered momentarily how long it was she had been out that both men were awake and in action again, but when those lips on her thigh moved higher and found her clit, she didn't give a damn anymore. She didn't open her eyes, giving into the sensation of licks that were in sync now - on her left nipple and her clit. Her breathing picked up, turning shallow and labored. Dimly, she thought that they are both making up for their earlier passiveness, and wondered if she had gotten more than she bargained for. A low groan - Rodney - against her inner lips brought vibrations against every nerve ending and she started shuddering. She kept her eyes closed. The sight of Rodney McKay kneeling between her legs and tasting her, licking her clean would have been too much to handle right now. She had never been the vocal type. She wouldn't start for him, but if she saw him now, she was afraid that … Sam never finished the thought. Rodney dipped his tongue deep into her just as John bit her nipple and then ran a wet and raspy tongue over it and she was flying. Everything inside her came apart in a blaze of gold as another orgasm hit, imploding inside her, sending bright shockwaves outside against her skin and she bucked against Rodney, clenching her hands in the sheets, and for the first time in her life, she had trouble swallowing the moan that wanted to slip free of her throat.

When she came down off the feverish high and her hips settled against the bed again, four hands were gentling her. She opened her eyes and squinted at them, still too breathless to speak.

Rodney raised his head - oh, God, his lips still glisten wet from her - and grinned smugly at John, who smiled too, almost wickedly, first at Rodney, then at her.

"I guess round one was a draw." He pulled away from her a little, immediately making her miss his warmth and weight against her thighs. "Well, at least she's awake now."

Sam's mind tripped and stuttered for just a moment, then she sat up and glared at Rodney as realization set in. "What is this, a competition?"

John drew her back against him so his head could dip down to her collar-bone. "You were too quiet, before," he murmured against her chest, leaving goosebumps in the trail of his lips.

"And we've got a reputation to lose, here," Rodney added, all smug superiority.

Sam didn't know if she wanted to kill him or laugh at him.

Ire clawed its way up and she was back in that mess hall at the SGC, when Rodney had told her that he had a thing for dumb blondes. She couldn't believe they were turning this into a competition about who could make her come the loudest. It was degrading. Sam scooted back on the bed, away from John's lips and Rodney hands and glared at them, knowing full well that the icy stare was only half as effective since she was completely naked.

"You two are incredible assholes, I hope you realize that."

Rodney's face fell a little, as though he realized that, really, no, she didn't find this amusing at all, and he really had hurt her, but John … There was a reaction she hadn't expected. John smirked. Slow and lazy, it crinkled the corners of his eyes.

"You're the one benefiting," he drawled, in a voice that glided over her like liquid velvet. "You want us to stop? Don't tell me you honestly mind."

It was hard not to gape at him.

Behind John, Rodney found his composure again and chimed in: "Really, Sam, you're supposed to be smart."

She knew she should answer. Find something to say that would slap them and their egos down and let her regain her...Oh, who the fuck was she kidding? They were right. Who in their right mind would complain that she had two men intent on giving her screamingly good orgasms? She'd already had three spectacular ones and now that both men were intent, she knew there were more to come. She loved being a woman so much right in that moment. Why should she give up the chance for more?

"I hate you," she sighed. When she felt the touch of hands against her skin again, she relaxed and smiled. "You won't get me to scream."

A hand grasped her thigh tighter, squeezed; a nip of teeth on her stomach, a hint of tongue and then cool breath blown across the wet path and Rodney said: "We'll see."

She really did hate him. Mostly because she knew he wouldn't give up.

part 3