Fic: You Who Have Been Traveling So Long (for stagesoflove)
Title: You Who Have Been Traveling So Long
Author: stellaluna_
Fandom: CSI:NY
Rating: NC-17 for explicit sex
Summary: Danny starts the game. Stella and Mac take it to the next level. Post-S2. Danny/Mac/Stella. This is set in the same continuity as the original D/M/S series I did for the last round of stagesoflove, though you don't have to read that to follow this.
Disclaimer: None of these are mine. Characters are the property of Anthony Zuiker, Jerry Bruckheimer Television, CBS, and Alliance Atlantis.
Notes: For the stagesoflove Five Stages of Sexual Response theme set (prompt: Desire).
Stella is inclined to blame the heat for her state of mind; the summer has turned wet and sultry, typical Northeast humidity at the point where it's unreal, where the red in the thermometer is pushed to the breaking point. She's aware of her body all the time, of the way different fabrics feel against her skin, the heat of metal pressing into her arm or the subtle burn of concrete that sinks right through the bottoms of her shoes and into the soles of her feet. Air-conditioning feels good whenever she comes in off the street, and at night she stands naked in front of the air conditioner in her bedroom and lets the cool air nuzzle her skin to goosebumps and dry the lines of sweat on her body. She rests her palms on top of it and closes her eyes, and thinks about her night with Mac and Danny as she tilts her head back to let the breeze get at her neck and the wet underside of her hair.
It's been a couple of weeks now, and she hasn't been able to get it off her mind. There had been that second night that they all got together for drinks, and she knows that the intention then had been to see if the whole thing was just a fluke or if they could make it work a second time, but in the end she had backed out, backed off, made her excuses and left the two of them alone together. She assumes that Danny spent the night with Mac even so, but she doesn't know for sure. She does know that Mac is still sleeping with Danny just as often as he's coming to her bed for the evening, and she's fine with that. Everything has continued to be easy between the three of them, and that's a good thing, too.
What she can't understand is her own reaction; if anything, she would have thought Mac would be the one to panic and back off and decide no more. And since that night, both men have given her space. Neither of them have pushed the issue, but they haven't expressed any regret over what happened, either.
Not that she regrets it, herself. In fact, she can't get it off her mind. The only thing she regrets is that she has backed off. If she had to guess, she would say that her hesitancy is all tangled up with the same reason she started sleeping with Mac in the first place: what happened with Frankie this spring is still very much, too much, with her. Going to bed with the two of them that night had been an easy thing, partly because she was drunk, and partly because the focus had been on Mac. They'd gotten him to own up to the fact that he was sleeping with both of them, and had taken him to bed together as another form of comfort -- and maybe as a way of thanking him for being there, in his own odd way. Maybe doing it again would change that dynamic too much, force it into another pattern, and she can't bring herself to make the first move.
She sighs, arches, turns her body so that the cool air is blowing across her aching nipples. She does want them again, both of them, and she's seen the looks Danny has been giving her lately in the hallways: little half-smiles and bedroom eyes, looks that make her remember the scrape of his stubble against her face and the heat of his mouth on her body.
So she's not surprised, a day or so later, when Danny slides close to her in the trace lab and slips his hand under the hem of her shirt, hot fingers tracing the rivulets of sweat that gather in the small of her back. He does this where no one can see, when they're alone in the lab, standing so that his hand is out of view to anyone who might happen to be passing by. All anyone would be able to see is their upper bodies and their faces, and Danny's gaze is fixed on the test results spread out on the desk in front of her. Stella looks at them too, bites her lip and doesn't raise her eyes, and Danny keeps touching her, fingers moving in a deliberate circle. He does it until she starts to shiver and then moves away.
The imprint of his touch is still tingling on her skin when, later that same day, she's on the elevator with him and Mac, and Danny, once the doors close, casually boxes Mac into a corner and starts to stroke a slow line down the center of his chest with the tip of his thumb. Stella expects Mac to protest, but he doesn't say a word, just goes wide-eyed, his hands clenching into fists as he holds still under Danny's touch.
Danny is smiling a little, his other hand propped against the wall for balance, and Stella watches as he continues his caress, up and down. Finally, he presses the flat of his palm to Mac's stomach. Mac makes a small sound in the back of his throat and his eyes meet Stella's, and she realizes that this can't be the first time Danny has done this to Mac.
Stella is still mulling over this revelation when the elevator doors open. By then, Danny is at the opposite end of the car, staring at the ceiling and whistling a little tune. Mac still looks like he's been hit over the head, and he barely manages a response to Danny's cheerful "See you guys later," as he steps into the lobby.
She and Mac ride the rest of the way down to the parking garage in silence, but she's biting back a laugh now; if that's the way Danny wants it, he's not the only one who can play that game. Maybe it's the heat, again, because she suddenly feels very devil-take-the-hindmost, very tired of all this waiting around and not acting. Very tired of wanting and not getting. So it's maybe not about Mac anymore if they go to bed together again; so what?
She leaves Mac alone for the moment, because she's pretty sure that anything more right now might just fry his brain permanently, but she ends up going home with him that night, and when she's on top of him, moving slow and lazy as he thrusts up into her, she leans down and whispers in his ear, "Is this how you move with Danny?"
He gasps and his hips give what feels like an involuntary jolt, causing him to thrust harder suddenly and making her groan. "Is it?" she asks when he doesn't answer right away. "Nice and slow like this, or -- " She has to pause to catch her breath. " -- or harder? Faster..."
His fingers dig into her back. "Both," he says, voice cracking. "Sometimes it's slow," and he holds her still while he pulls back and then pushes into her again, inch by slow inch. "Sometimes it's faster," and he grabs her, moves up hard as she rocks down against him. He kisses her and slides his fingers between her legs, and she's moaning into his mouth when she comes.
"I remember how you touched each other that night," she says to him afterward, when they're curled up and relaxing.
"Do you?" Mac says, and he sounds more curious than surprised.
"Yeah." She kisses his shoulder. "Your hands on his body, his on yours...I like the way you touch him. You should ask him how he'd like to touch me." She presses closer and nips at his throat. "Or think about how you'd like him to touch me."
Mac turns his head to look at her, and now he does seem surprised, but she just smiles at him, and after a few moments he begins to look more contemplative than startled.
The next day Stella is more aware of her body than ever as she's walking around, of the way the heat presses against it and all the places her skin would be wet to the touch if someone were to caress her. Going into air conditioning from the summer day feels good, but so does the first shock of the sun when she steps back into the sidewalk. It takes away the chill, warms her all over, right down to her bones in the first few minutes before the perspiration starts to collect again. She closes her eyes for a moment when she's standing on the corner and waiting for the light to change, tips her head back and lets the sun's rays slip through her dark glasses and arch across her closed lids.
Later she's alone in the elevator with Danny, and she smiles at him and moves close, backs him right into the wall and then edges even closer. He looks at her in surprise, mouth opening a little, and she lets her thigh brush his until she feels him starting to get hard. "I talked about you last night," she says. "With Mac."
Danny's voice is wound tight. "You did?"
"Yes." She puts one hand on his waist, under his jacket, feels his muscles work as he sucks in a sharp breath. "He was inside me and we talked about you. You know how hard he came?"
His throat works. "No."
"You should ask him." She stands on her toes so that she can whisper the last part right into his ear. "Or ask him how hard I did."
And then she steps away, and they're in the lobby, and she leaves him with a cheery wave, just the way he left the two of them the other day. She crosses the marble floor feeling elated and dizzy, head buzzing with the adrenaline high of having done something that she can't take back.
Two nights later, Mac parks the SUV in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge and pulls her into his lap and kisses her deep, hands kneading at her breasts, and when she rubs against him he's already hard even before she touches him. He guides her into the back and makes her sit down, then pulls off her pants and pushes the front seat all the way forward, and sinks to his knees in front of her. She cries out when she feels his tongue sink into her, and his hands are on her thighs, spreading her legs wider, opening her.
She's right on the verge of coming when he suddenly stops, making her moan again, and sits up on his knees and looks into her face. She opens her eyes and meets his gaze. She can feel her heart beating hard, and his breath against her mouth is coming in pants. "I asked Danny," he says.
"Oh?"
He takes her hand and slides it down to his hard-on. She strokes him through his trousers, then undoes his belt and zipper and slips her hand inside. "Yeah," he says. "He said he'd like to be inside you while I watch." He fondles her nipple with two fingers, and she tightens her hand around his cock until he arches into her. "Or both of us together."
Arousal is a sharp ache now, as much from the shock of hearing these words come out of Mac's mouth as from what he's doing to her with his hands. But maybe this summer is changing him, too, she thinks; maybe he's as tired of wanting and not getting as she is. As Danny is.
"Oh," she breathes out, and he moves his other hand down to stroke the wetness between her legs.
"What do you think?" he says, and there's anxiety in his voice and eyes now. He hasn't changed that much after all, Stella realizes: still the same old Mac underneath this sudden willingness to up the stakes in the game Danny started and she continued. She finds that comforting, and suddenly she just wants to hug him tight.
Instead, she teases a fingertip across the head of his cock until he lets out a little hiss. "I'd like that," she says.
"Good." He pushes her shirt up and over her head, and she leans back into the seat, tugging him on top of her. They both cry out as he slides into her, and he bends his head down, murmurs to her in detail about all the things Danny did to him last night until they're both clawing at each other and coming; but afterward it's slow again, and she sits next to him and rests her head on his shoulder while he twines his fingers in her hair and presses brief kisses to her mouth.
"Danny thinks we should all have a drink together this weekend," he says after awhile.
She nods. "I think we should."
He puts his fingers on her chin and tilts her head up so they're looking into each other's eyes. "You're sure?" he says.
"I'm very sure," she says.
Mac nods. "Okay."
"Are you going to see Danny on your own before the weekend?" she asks.
"I think so," he says.
"Good." She kisses him again, soft and slow. "Kiss him for me, would you?"
Mac looks hesitant for a moment more, then suddenly smiles. "I'll do more than that," he says.
Stella drops her head back to his shoulder and closes her eyes; it'll be all right.
Feedback is always appreciated.
Author: stellaluna_
Fandom: CSI:NY
Rating: NC-17 for explicit sex
Summary: Danny starts the game. Stella and Mac take it to the next level. Post-S2. Danny/Mac/Stella. This is set in the same continuity as the original D/M/S series I did for the last round of stagesoflove, though you don't have to read that to follow this.
Disclaimer: None of these are mine. Characters are the property of Anthony Zuiker, Jerry Bruckheimer Television, CBS, and Alliance Atlantis.
Notes: For the stagesoflove Five Stages of Sexual Response theme set (prompt: Desire).
Stella is inclined to blame the heat for her state of mind; the summer has turned wet and sultry, typical Northeast humidity at the point where it's unreal, where the red in the thermometer is pushed to the breaking point. She's aware of her body all the time, of the way different fabrics feel against her skin, the heat of metal pressing into her arm or the subtle burn of concrete that sinks right through the bottoms of her shoes and into the soles of her feet. Air-conditioning feels good whenever she comes in off the street, and at night she stands naked in front of the air conditioner in her bedroom and lets the cool air nuzzle her skin to goosebumps and dry the lines of sweat on her body. She rests her palms on top of it and closes her eyes, and thinks about her night with Mac and Danny as she tilts her head back to let the breeze get at her neck and the wet underside of her hair.
It's been a couple of weeks now, and she hasn't been able to get it off her mind. There had been that second night that they all got together for drinks, and she knows that the intention then had been to see if the whole thing was just a fluke or if they could make it work a second time, but in the end she had backed out, backed off, made her excuses and left the two of them alone together. She assumes that Danny spent the night with Mac even so, but she doesn't know for sure. She does know that Mac is still sleeping with Danny just as often as he's coming to her bed for the evening, and she's fine with that. Everything has continued to be easy between the three of them, and that's a good thing, too.
What she can't understand is her own reaction; if anything, she would have thought Mac would be the one to panic and back off and decide no more. And since that night, both men have given her space. Neither of them have pushed the issue, but they haven't expressed any regret over what happened, either.
Not that she regrets it, herself. In fact, she can't get it off her mind. The only thing she regrets is that she has backed off. If she had to guess, she would say that her hesitancy is all tangled up with the same reason she started sleeping with Mac in the first place: what happened with Frankie this spring is still very much, too much, with her. Going to bed with the two of them that night had been an easy thing, partly because she was drunk, and partly because the focus had been on Mac. They'd gotten him to own up to the fact that he was sleeping with both of them, and had taken him to bed together as another form of comfort -- and maybe as a way of thanking him for being there, in his own odd way. Maybe doing it again would change that dynamic too much, force it into another pattern, and she can't bring herself to make the first move.
She sighs, arches, turns her body so that the cool air is blowing across her aching nipples. She does want them again, both of them, and she's seen the looks Danny has been giving her lately in the hallways: little half-smiles and bedroom eyes, looks that make her remember the scrape of his stubble against her face and the heat of his mouth on her body.
So she's not surprised, a day or so later, when Danny slides close to her in the trace lab and slips his hand under the hem of her shirt, hot fingers tracing the rivulets of sweat that gather in the small of her back. He does this where no one can see, when they're alone in the lab, standing so that his hand is out of view to anyone who might happen to be passing by. All anyone would be able to see is their upper bodies and their faces, and Danny's gaze is fixed on the test results spread out on the desk in front of her. Stella looks at them too, bites her lip and doesn't raise her eyes, and Danny keeps touching her, fingers moving in a deliberate circle. He does it until she starts to shiver and then moves away.
The imprint of his touch is still tingling on her skin when, later that same day, she's on the elevator with him and Mac, and Danny, once the doors close, casually boxes Mac into a corner and starts to stroke a slow line down the center of his chest with the tip of his thumb. Stella expects Mac to protest, but he doesn't say a word, just goes wide-eyed, his hands clenching into fists as he holds still under Danny's touch.
Danny is smiling a little, his other hand propped against the wall for balance, and Stella watches as he continues his caress, up and down. Finally, he presses the flat of his palm to Mac's stomach. Mac makes a small sound in the back of his throat and his eyes meet Stella's, and she realizes that this can't be the first time Danny has done this to Mac.
Stella is still mulling over this revelation when the elevator doors open. By then, Danny is at the opposite end of the car, staring at the ceiling and whistling a little tune. Mac still looks like he's been hit over the head, and he barely manages a response to Danny's cheerful "See you guys later," as he steps into the lobby.
She and Mac ride the rest of the way down to the parking garage in silence, but she's biting back a laugh now; if that's the way Danny wants it, he's not the only one who can play that game. Maybe it's the heat, again, because she suddenly feels very devil-take-the-hindmost, very tired of all this waiting around and not acting. Very tired of wanting and not getting. So it's maybe not about Mac anymore if they go to bed together again; so what?
She leaves Mac alone for the moment, because she's pretty sure that anything more right now might just fry his brain permanently, but she ends up going home with him that night, and when she's on top of him, moving slow and lazy as he thrusts up into her, she leans down and whispers in his ear, "Is this how you move with Danny?"
He gasps and his hips give what feels like an involuntary jolt, causing him to thrust harder suddenly and making her groan. "Is it?" she asks when he doesn't answer right away. "Nice and slow like this, or -- " She has to pause to catch her breath. " -- or harder? Faster..."
His fingers dig into her back. "Both," he says, voice cracking. "Sometimes it's slow," and he holds her still while he pulls back and then pushes into her again, inch by slow inch. "Sometimes it's faster," and he grabs her, moves up hard as she rocks down against him. He kisses her and slides his fingers between her legs, and she's moaning into his mouth when she comes.
"I remember how you touched each other that night," she says to him afterward, when they're curled up and relaxing.
"Do you?" Mac says, and he sounds more curious than surprised.
"Yeah." She kisses his shoulder. "Your hands on his body, his on yours...I like the way you touch him. You should ask him how he'd like to touch me." She presses closer and nips at his throat. "Or think about how you'd like him to touch me."
Mac turns his head to look at her, and now he does seem surprised, but she just smiles at him, and after a few moments he begins to look more contemplative than startled.
The next day Stella is more aware of her body than ever as she's walking around, of the way the heat presses against it and all the places her skin would be wet to the touch if someone were to caress her. Going into air conditioning from the summer day feels good, but so does the first shock of the sun when she steps back into the sidewalk. It takes away the chill, warms her all over, right down to her bones in the first few minutes before the perspiration starts to collect again. She closes her eyes for a moment when she's standing on the corner and waiting for the light to change, tips her head back and lets the sun's rays slip through her dark glasses and arch across her closed lids.
Later she's alone in the elevator with Danny, and she smiles at him and moves close, backs him right into the wall and then edges even closer. He looks at her in surprise, mouth opening a little, and she lets her thigh brush his until she feels him starting to get hard. "I talked about you last night," she says. "With Mac."
Danny's voice is wound tight. "You did?"
"Yes." She puts one hand on his waist, under his jacket, feels his muscles work as he sucks in a sharp breath. "He was inside me and we talked about you. You know how hard he came?"
His throat works. "No."
"You should ask him." She stands on her toes so that she can whisper the last part right into his ear. "Or ask him how hard I did."
And then she steps away, and they're in the lobby, and she leaves him with a cheery wave, just the way he left the two of them the other day. She crosses the marble floor feeling elated and dizzy, head buzzing with the adrenaline high of having done something that she can't take back.
Two nights later, Mac parks the SUV in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge and pulls her into his lap and kisses her deep, hands kneading at her breasts, and when she rubs against him he's already hard even before she touches him. He guides her into the back and makes her sit down, then pulls off her pants and pushes the front seat all the way forward, and sinks to his knees in front of her. She cries out when she feels his tongue sink into her, and his hands are on her thighs, spreading her legs wider, opening her.
She's right on the verge of coming when he suddenly stops, making her moan again, and sits up on his knees and looks into her face. She opens her eyes and meets his gaze. She can feel her heart beating hard, and his breath against her mouth is coming in pants. "I asked Danny," he says.
"Oh?"
He takes her hand and slides it down to his hard-on. She strokes him through his trousers, then undoes his belt and zipper and slips her hand inside. "Yeah," he says. "He said he'd like to be inside you while I watch." He fondles her nipple with two fingers, and she tightens her hand around his cock until he arches into her. "Or both of us together."
Arousal is a sharp ache now, as much from the shock of hearing these words come out of Mac's mouth as from what he's doing to her with his hands. But maybe this summer is changing him, too, she thinks; maybe he's as tired of wanting and not getting as she is. As Danny is.
"Oh," she breathes out, and he moves his other hand down to stroke the wetness between her legs.
"What do you think?" he says, and there's anxiety in his voice and eyes now. He hasn't changed that much after all, Stella realizes: still the same old Mac underneath this sudden willingness to up the stakes in the game Danny started and she continued. She finds that comforting, and suddenly she just wants to hug him tight.
Instead, she teases a fingertip across the head of his cock until he lets out a little hiss. "I'd like that," she says.
"Good." He pushes her shirt up and over her head, and she leans back into the seat, tugging him on top of her. They both cry out as he slides into her, and he bends his head down, murmurs to her in detail about all the things Danny did to him last night until they're both clawing at each other and coming; but afterward it's slow again, and she sits next to him and rests her head on his shoulder while he twines his fingers in her hair and presses brief kisses to her mouth.
"Danny thinks we should all have a drink together this weekend," he says after awhile.
She nods. "I think we should."
He puts his fingers on her chin and tilts her head up so they're looking into each other's eyes. "You're sure?" he says.
"I'm very sure," she says.
Mac nods. "Okay."
"Are you going to see Danny on your own before the weekend?" she asks.
"I think so," he says.
"Good." She kisses him again, soft and slow. "Kiss him for me, would you?"
Mac looks hesitant for a moment more, then suddenly smiles. "I'll do more than that," he says.
Stella drops her head back to his shoulder and closes her eyes; it'll be all right.
Feedback is always appreciated.