Numb3rs Fic: Both
Posted to numb3rs_het
Title: Both
Pairing/Characters: Ian/Billy/Nikki
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: Sniper Zero, Man Hunt, High Exposure
Summary: Two alpha males at once is too hard to pass up
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ
They clash from the word go. Nikki's filled with opinions and a serious inability to self-edit, especially when she's got a beer or two in her. Billy just sits across from her with that smug little smirk on his face, lazily tearing apart everything she says. No matter how vehement she gets, no matter how outrageous her statements - and after a while she's making up stuff just to piss him off - she can't get a rise out of him. He's playing with her, enjoying watching her get riled up.
It seems like an hour before Ian shows up, waving his phone by way of apology: duty calls. He sits not beside her but next to Billy in the four person booth. Now Nikki didn't get into the police academy or Quantico without having a damn good eye and she sees it now that they're sitting together - key word being together.
That shuts her up. Sure she knew when she first hooked up with Ian he was a player, but she'd never considered that the predator apparently didn't have a picky appetite. They stare her down: elbow to elbow, matching hunger on their faces and she gets it. She's on the menu tonight.
An unexpected heat pools low in her belly. She'd been attracted to Ian in the hope of someone more powerful than herself taking control - or more accurately wrenching control from her vice-like grip. But two alpha males? At once? She squirms in her seat, forcing her hands to stay in view on the table, not willing to give them even an iota of satisfaction that they've gotten to her.
The conversation shifts once Ian arrives, less adversarial, more a sharing of war stories. Billy's surprisingly funny and Nikki supposes a lot of women find him charming. She just enjoys catching glimpses of well-muscled arms beneath his t-shirt sleeves. He's wiry strong - like Ian - not bulky like Colby. She likes that. It implies speed, agility and a man who succeeds more on wits than brawn.
They haven't asked, haven't offered, but she knows what's on the table. It's understood. So she slows down her drinking, nursing her third beer for the rest of the night so she can keep a cool head. She wants to be alert for this. It's a once in a lifetime deal and there's no way she's going to give them an out to pass thinking she's too out of it to give consent. It's then she realizes they've each only had two beers. Everyone's on board with the plan now.
A band starts tuning up to play and they can't hear each other over the din. Ian offers his hotel nearby - to continue the conversation. Game on. They walk out together and the night air is abruptly cool on her overheated skin. This should be her wake up call, her inner voice telling her to wake up girlfriend and not do this ridiculous stunt. She's worked too hard to let sleeping around ruin her career. Only that protest falls short. She knows neither man will say anything, do anything, hold anything against her. It's just that final vestige of uncertainty willing her to run.
Ian's hand is light at the small of her back and she doesn't realize at first he's putting her in Billy's SUV until he gets in the back seat behind her. Billy - smirk long gone - just nods from the driver's seat, accepting directions for the brief trip down Wilshire Boulevard.
If she gets any more tense, she'll snap. Her mind is reeling with what ifs, imagining how the first moments might go, what she might do wrong. Then Billy snaps on the radio: classic rock. He starts belting out the tune in grand karaoke style and she and Ian just dissolve in a fit of laughter. The spell is broken, she relaxes, and now she kind of has a thing for this guy who can disarm her so completely with a badly sung Queen song.
They stroll into the hotel lobby, still laughing, just three co-workers out for a night after work. It isn't until they pile into an empty elevator that the heat roiling off the two bodies at her side overtakes her, reminds her what they're about to engage in. This time it's Billy's hand at the small of her back, leading her out of the elevator and to the left towards Ian's room. When he pulls out a cardkey to open the door, it hits her: this isn't Ian's room. It's their room.
The ease with which both men walk in and divest themselves of their guns and badges into familiar allotted drawers confirms it. There are two king size beds, but they only use the nightstands on either side of one of them. On autopilot she puts her gun and badge on top of the low dresser beside her, mind wandering as she watches them, imagining the two of them in rough play - the visual bringing a blush to her face she hopes her coloring is enough to cover.
Shoes, socks, jackets, watches all shed in the name of comfort. Billy throws himself into an armchair and turns the TV on with the remote, surfing to find a movie. Ian gestures for her to sit on the dresser and he pulls her boots off her, one by one. It's not really a sensual gesture, but an invitation still: make yourself comfortable. She curls up over her bare feet on the living room area's couch as Ian putters about. He gets them all soda from the vending machine and pops popcorn in the suite's kitchen microwave. They pass the bag around, chomping carelessly, as they nitpick the law enforcement in the movie. They end up throwing popcorn at the screen, then at each other, sparking a popcorn battle that escalates into pillow warfare.
Nikki's squealing, laughing, dodging Ian's unerring aim and smacking Billy across the ass with a purloined pillow just before it happens. Ian manages to grab her by the arms and pull her to him for an unexpected kiss. Startled, she goes still in his arms and then manages to sink into the kiss as he takes over. He edges them a few steps backwards and she hits something: a body... Billy. Strong arms come around her waist from behind and freckled lips descend to her neck.
Pressed between the two men, her adrenaline spikes in a rush of desire. In a final act of her own doing before turning over all control, she tears off her own shirt and tosses it aside: a starting flag for the race to fulfillment. Two mouths, four hands, whispers all around her, surrounding her with promises of what's to come - she's heady with it all. She's stripped naked so fast she feels like she missed it happening, but she does notice the coolness of their brief absence from her skin and the sounds that tell her they're prepared for her now.
She loses track and that's kind of wonderful in its own way. She's dimly aware it's Billy's chest she's leaning back against, but whose hands are teasing at her nipples and whose talented fingers are slicking her, teasing her, driving her higher? She's not so sure, but finds she really doesn't care, muscles flexing in impatience for more.
Two perfectly serviceable beds in the room, but they stay standing where they started, Ian sliding into her as she wraps a leg around him to ease him in. This she knows, she remembers, the feel of him inside her. She gets a minute to adjust, to breathe, then Billy's prodding at her ass and she has to make herself relax - the excitement of the second penetration almost too intense.
If her sensations were any more heightened she'd be omniscient: nerve endings singing as the head of Billy's cock is worked inside, the symphony of his harsh breathing in her ear, his heart beating a tattoo along with hers, along with Ian's. And then one hard push and he's inside: the gasp is more wrenched out of her than floats out so they still, out of concern, but it's Ian who knows her best and he knows not to keep a lady waiting.
Ian sets the rhythm: rocking, rolling, a circular motion that's hypnotic and smooth despite the almost violent pace. A tiny part of the back of her mind says they can't be this in tune naturally. They have to have done this before. Whether that's the explanation for the shared hotel room or something a bit closer to home, she suddenly decides she doesn't care. This feels too good, too perfect; it almost seems mean to not want other women to have it.
She loses any awareness of her hands; they don't expect her to do anything anyway, to touch and please them. She's the vessel for all of their pleasure, the conduit by which they all ascend into the nether regions of bliss.
She's relishing teetering on the edge, sure this is the most they can give her, when some unspoken signal passes between them and they both start to take turns pulling out partway then slamming back in. Each thrust jolts her entire body and she becomes a rag doll in their arms, overwhelmed by so much mind-frying friction.
She's so taut now she's holding her breath, bewildered as to why she hasn't lost it yet. And then a calloused thumb rubs wet across a nipple at the same time as a slick finger slides between her body and Ian's seeking her center.
Forget the people in the next room hearing her - the people on the next floor probably do too. She goes rigid with a cry erupting from her very core, releasing everything in one vocalization. Eyes blind, skin afire, her feet don't feel like they're touching the ground. She's ethereal, immaterial, no longer flesh and blood - just sensation, energy and nuclear at that as she succumbs to her meltdown.
Sparking nerve endings still dance along her limbs and torso as Ian stiffens, teeth buried gently in her shoulder, and falls still. He withdraws and she feels herself spun to the side where Ian helps arrange her over a chair as Billy nudges her back to get her to bend over. She barely manages to brace herself before he starts up, pounding into her ass so hard her curls bounce across her face.
Aftershocks hit her almost as hard as the original orgasm quaked her body. She'd scream it was too much if she wasn't still high from the endorphins, still riding the euphoria. She feels hands on her thighs steadying her and realizes Ian's worked his way between her and the chair, crouching down before her.
Ian's tongue starts to flick her clit just seconds before Billy finally loses it so they both spasm at the same time, throbbing so hard it's like an extra pulse, stronger even. Bliss was the first time. This? This is nirvana. Absolute ecstasy.
When he slips out she feels empty, bereft, the loss strange to her. Her legs fold beneath her, but she trusts Ian and he doesn't fail her; he gathers her crumpled self into his arms. She vaguely hears Billy pull the covers aside, but feels the cool soft sheets against her almost painfully sensitive skin as Ian lays her down.
She's not alone long enough to cool off though. The room goes silent and dark as the TV and the lights are turned off. Then two warm bodies slip into bed on either side of her.
She needs no light to find her men; she knows them now.
One hand finds Ian's face, a soft caress her wordless thank you.
Her other hand finds Billy's hip, urges him to curl up closer, her message clear.
I want you both.
=
Title: Both
Pairing/Characters: Ian/Billy/Nikki
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: Sniper Zero, Man Hunt, High Exposure
Summary: Two alpha males at once is too hard to pass up
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ
They clash from the word go. Nikki's filled with opinions and a serious inability to self-edit, especially when she's got a beer or two in her. Billy just sits across from her with that smug little smirk on his face, lazily tearing apart everything she says. No matter how vehement she gets, no matter how outrageous her statements - and after a while she's making up stuff just to piss him off - she can't get a rise out of him. He's playing with her, enjoying watching her get riled up.
It seems like an hour before Ian shows up, waving his phone by way of apology: duty calls. He sits not beside her but next to Billy in the four person booth. Now Nikki didn't get into the police academy or Quantico without having a damn good eye and she sees it now that they're sitting together - key word being together.
That shuts her up. Sure she knew when she first hooked up with Ian he was a player, but she'd never considered that the predator apparently didn't have a picky appetite. They stare her down: elbow to elbow, matching hunger on their faces and she gets it. She's on the menu tonight.
An unexpected heat pools low in her belly. She'd been attracted to Ian in the hope of someone more powerful than herself taking control - or more accurately wrenching control from her vice-like grip. But two alpha males? At once? She squirms in her seat, forcing her hands to stay in view on the table, not willing to give them even an iota of satisfaction that they've gotten to her.
The conversation shifts once Ian arrives, less adversarial, more a sharing of war stories. Billy's surprisingly funny and Nikki supposes a lot of women find him charming. She just enjoys catching glimpses of well-muscled arms beneath his t-shirt sleeves. He's wiry strong - like Ian - not bulky like Colby. She likes that. It implies speed, agility and a man who succeeds more on wits than brawn.
They haven't asked, haven't offered, but she knows what's on the table. It's understood. So she slows down her drinking, nursing her third beer for the rest of the night so she can keep a cool head. She wants to be alert for this. It's a once in a lifetime deal and there's no way she's going to give them an out to pass thinking she's too out of it to give consent. It's then she realizes they've each only had two beers. Everyone's on board with the plan now.
A band starts tuning up to play and they can't hear each other over the din. Ian offers his hotel nearby - to continue the conversation. Game on. They walk out together and the night air is abruptly cool on her overheated skin. This should be her wake up call, her inner voice telling her to wake up girlfriend and not do this ridiculous stunt. She's worked too hard to let sleeping around ruin her career. Only that protest falls short. She knows neither man will say anything, do anything, hold anything against her. It's just that final vestige of uncertainty willing her to run.
Ian's hand is light at the small of her back and she doesn't realize at first he's putting her in Billy's SUV until he gets in the back seat behind her. Billy - smirk long gone - just nods from the driver's seat, accepting directions for the brief trip down Wilshire Boulevard.
If she gets any more tense, she'll snap. Her mind is reeling with what ifs, imagining how the first moments might go, what she might do wrong. Then Billy snaps on the radio: classic rock. He starts belting out the tune in grand karaoke style and she and Ian just dissolve in a fit of laughter. The spell is broken, she relaxes, and now she kind of has a thing for this guy who can disarm her so completely with a badly sung Queen song.
They stroll into the hotel lobby, still laughing, just three co-workers out for a night after work. It isn't until they pile into an empty elevator that the heat roiling off the two bodies at her side overtakes her, reminds her what they're about to engage in. This time it's Billy's hand at the small of her back, leading her out of the elevator and to the left towards Ian's room. When he pulls out a cardkey to open the door, it hits her: this isn't Ian's room. It's their room.
The ease with which both men walk in and divest themselves of their guns and badges into familiar allotted drawers confirms it. There are two king size beds, but they only use the nightstands on either side of one of them. On autopilot she puts her gun and badge on top of the low dresser beside her, mind wandering as she watches them, imagining the two of them in rough play - the visual bringing a blush to her face she hopes her coloring is enough to cover.
Shoes, socks, jackets, watches all shed in the name of comfort. Billy throws himself into an armchair and turns the TV on with the remote, surfing to find a movie. Ian gestures for her to sit on the dresser and he pulls her boots off her, one by one. It's not really a sensual gesture, but an invitation still: make yourself comfortable. She curls up over her bare feet on the living room area's couch as Ian putters about. He gets them all soda from the vending machine and pops popcorn in the suite's kitchen microwave. They pass the bag around, chomping carelessly, as they nitpick the law enforcement in the movie. They end up throwing popcorn at the screen, then at each other, sparking a popcorn battle that escalates into pillow warfare.
Nikki's squealing, laughing, dodging Ian's unerring aim and smacking Billy across the ass with a purloined pillow just before it happens. Ian manages to grab her by the arms and pull her to him for an unexpected kiss. Startled, she goes still in his arms and then manages to sink into the kiss as he takes over. He edges them a few steps backwards and she hits something: a body... Billy. Strong arms come around her waist from behind and freckled lips descend to her neck.
Pressed between the two men, her adrenaline spikes in a rush of desire. In a final act of her own doing before turning over all control, she tears off her own shirt and tosses it aside: a starting flag for the race to fulfillment. Two mouths, four hands, whispers all around her, surrounding her with promises of what's to come - she's heady with it all. She's stripped naked so fast she feels like she missed it happening, but she does notice the coolness of their brief absence from her skin and the sounds that tell her they're prepared for her now.
She loses track and that's kind of wonderful in its own way. She's dimly aware it's Billy's chest she's leaning back against, but whose hands are teasing at her nipples and whose talented fingers are slicking her, teasing her, driving her higher? She's not so sure, but finds she really doesn't care, muscles flexing in impatience for more.
Two perfectly serviceable beds in the room, but they stay standing where they started, Ian sliding into her as she wraps a leg around him to ease him in. This she knows, she remembers, the feel of him inside her. She gets a minute to adjust, to breathe, then Billy's prodding at her ass and she has to make herself relax - the excitement of the second penetration almost too intense.
If her sensations were any more heightened she'd be omniscient: nerve endings singing as the head of Billy's cock is worked inside, the symphony of his harsh breathing in her ear, his heart beating a tattoo along with hers, along with Ian's. And then one hard push and he's inside: the gasp is more wrenched out of her than floats out so they still, out of concern, but it's Ian who knows her best and he knows not to keep a lady waiting.
Ian sets the rhythm: rocking, rolling, a circular motion that's hypnotic and smooth despite the almost violent pace. A tiny part of the back of her mind says they can't be this in tune naturally. They have to have done this before. Whether that's the explanation for the shared hotel room or something a bit closer to home, she suddenly decides she doesn't care. This feels too good, too perfect; it almost seems mean to not want other women to have it.
She loses any awareness of her hands; they don't expect her to do anything anyway, to touch and please them. She's the vessel for all of their pleasure, the conduit by which they all ascend into the nether regions of bliss.
She's relishing teetering on the edge, sure this is the most they can give her, when some unspoken signal passes between them and they both start to take turns pulling out partway then slamming back in. Each thrust jolts her entire body and she becomes a rag doll in their arms, overwhelmed by so much mind-frying friction.
She's so taut now she's holding her breath, bewildered as to why she hasn't lost it yet. And then a calloused thumb rubs wet across a nipple at the same time as a slick finger slides between her body and Ian's seeking her center.
Forget the people in the next room hearing her - the people on the next floor probably do too. She goes rigid with a cry erupting from her very core, releasing everything in one vocalization. Eyes blind, skin afire, her feet don't feel like they're touching the ground. She's ethereal, immaterial, no longer flesh and blood - just sensation, energy and nuclear at that as she succumbs to her meltdown.
Sparking nerve endings still dance along her limbs and torso as Ian stiffens, teeth buried gently in her shoulder, and falls still. He withdraws and she feels herself spun to the side where Ian helps arrange her over a chair as Billy nudges her back to get her to bend over. She barely manages to brace herself before he starts up, pounding into her ass so hard her curls bounce across her face.
Aftershocks hit her almost as hard as the original orgasm quaked her body. She'd scream it was too much if she wasn't still high from the endorphins, still riding the euphoria. She feels hands on her thighs steadying her and realizes Ian's worked his way between her and the chair, crouching down before her.
Ian's tongue starts to flick her clit just seconds before Billy finally loses it so they both spasm at the same time, throbbing so hard it's like an extra pulse, stronger even. Bliss was the first time. This? This is nirvana. Absolute ecstasy.
When he slips out she feels empty, bereft, the loss strange to her. Her legs fold beneath her, but she trusts Ian and he doesn't fail her; he gathers her crumpled self into his arms. She vaguely hears Billy pull the covers aside, but feels the cool soft sheets against her almost painfully sensitive skin as Ian lays her down.
She's not alone long enough to cool off though. The room goes silent and dark as the TV and the lights are turned off. Then two warm bodies slip into bed on either side of her.
She needs no light to find her men; she knows them now.
One hand finds Ian's face, a soft caress her wordless thank you.
Her other hand finds Billy's hip, urges him to curl up closer, her message clear.
I want you both.
=