MMOM: "Uniting Their Chi," Emma/Travis/Wes, Common Law, Explicit
Title: Uniting Their Chi
Author: geonncannon
Fandom: Common Law
Self-Lover: Emma Ryan, Travis Marks, Wes Mitchell
Spoilers: Pilot, Ride-Along
Words: 1,449
Date: Day 21
The post to suggest future pairings/stories!
Summary: Dr. Ryan would never use this method in real life. Maybe never. Well...
Emma tested the temperature of the water with her toe, deemed it suitable, and let her foot sink. She lowered herself into the water, mountain ranges of white bubbles rising on either side of her, and reclined into the corner. She crossed her ankles and bent her knees, lifting them up out of the water. She cupped her hands and washed them over her breasts, watching as the water coursed back down over their curves. A few bubbles were caught on her nipples so she brushed them away. Her eyes closed as she moved her thumb in long sweeps. She pinched one between two fingers and closed her eyes as she pinched, an inadvertent gasp slipping past her lips.
As she cupped her breast, she moved her other hand down over her stomach. She curled her fingers into claws and dragged it through her pubic hair. Spending the day with Travis and Wes had been... illuminating. Not just in a professional sense. She realized they were unlike any of her other clients, and that awakened many... possibilities. Not real, authentic possibilities, of course. She would never cross the line of propriety. But she could imagine.
'Never fantasize about a client' didn't even need to be a rule; it was just something she would never do. Working with married couples prevented even the barest of 'maybe possibly if the stars aligned' that would make her fantasy work. But Travis and Wes weren't married. She could fantasize about either of them, if she wished.
Or both.
She extended her middle finger and teased her labia. "Ah." She chuckled and imagined the two men in a truly private session. Standing in the circle of chairs, Emma circled them. The bathroom faded and she felt truly present in the therapy room. She could hear the ancient tremble of the air conditioner, feel its cool breath spreading across the room like an invisible wave. She heard the click of her heels on the floor.
"Face one another." Even in her fantasy they dithered, waiting to see if the other would move first before following her instruction. "Disrobe."
They both turned to look at her. Wes looked intrigued, Travis looked confused. She raised her eyebrows and waited to see if they would cooperate without being hand-fed an explanation, but of course they wouldn't. Who would? No, she would have to explain. She began to circle them again.
"Your personalities are masks. You protect yourselves, even from each other, every minute of the day. How can you possibly rely on each other in life and death situations if you're guarded? So take off your clothes. I assure you it's a perfectly safe environment."
Travis: "Well, I have no problem with it, I'm just thinking about Wes."
Wes: "Oh, you're worried about me? What do you think I'd have a problem with?"
"Well, you know, a... display like this." He shrugged and tilted his head to the side. "I know you're a grower not a show-er."
"Oh, I'm not a show-er?" He began unbuttoning his shirt and, an instant later, Travis started doing the same. "I got nothing to hide. I think you're just deflecting--"
"Oh, I'm deflecting?"
"Yeah, maybe if you listened to Dr. Ryan, you'd pick up on some of these terms. I find it very enlightening to have labels for--"
"Oh, you're all about labels. Easier to find out which box things go in."
Emma remained silent as she circled them. In the tub, she had spread her folds open and was stroking the pad of her middle finger against her sex. She arched her back, lifting herself slightly out of the water as she pictured their clothes hitting the floor. When they were naked, she imagined Wes crossing his wrists in front of him, Travis starting to do the same and then putting his hands on his hips in as casual a pose as a naked man could pull off.
Emma smiled. "Excellent." She pinched the wool of her scarf between two fingers and tugged it free, enjoying the imaginary brush of the material against the back of her neck as she pushed a finger inside herself. She gasped, the quiet sound amplified by the tile. She stepped closer to Wes and Travis and held up the scarf.
"Travis? Around your waist, please. And Wes, the same."
Travis rubbed his jaw. Oh, and a fine jaw it was. But nowhere near the level of deliciousness as his eyes. Oh, she could drown in those eyes. Even if he was standing before her naked as the day he was born, she would find it hard to tear her attention off those baby blues.
She knew they would hesitate, but in for a penny... they would lasso themselves and let her tie a bow. "Now, gentlemen. Take your partner in hand--"
"Whoa..."
"That is, ah..."
"We're not..."
"Nope."
Emma would put on her there-is-no-discussion-here voice. "Gentlemen."
They would stare each other down. Huff and puff. Their shoulders would be back, posing for each other, neither wanting to look like a coward or as if they were ashamed.
"Count of three?" That would be Wes.
"Who is counting?"
Emma said, "I'll count. One. Two--"
"Grab on three, or hear three and then grab?"
Travis rolled his eyes. "Oh, for..." He wrapped his fingers around Wes' cock. Wes tensed, eyes wide, and then he grabbed Travis' cock. Emma smiled and waited for them to relax, waited for it to evolve from a competition, a pissing contest (if you excuse the term), and became something more. She imagined the relaxing of their muscles. Once the line was crossed, it was easier. Nothing was left but to do it, so they began.
Emma moved closer. She could smell them; Travis and his cologne, Wes and his smell of soap and hand sanitizer, combining with the scent of pure male. Sweat and sex, the smell of arousal. In her tub, moving her body slightly to create waves that lapped against her breasts, she could smell it as she added a second finger to her sex. She narrowed her vision...
The slope of Wes' shoulder.
Travis' chest.
Their arms as they moved in concert with each other. Daring each other to the edge, to be the first to come. She imagined leaning in to Wes' ear, but speaking loud enough that Travis could hear when she said, "Whichever of you finishes first will get a reward from me." That changed their tactics. Neither wanted to be the first to finish, both wanted her. She shuddered at the knowledge. Now they were teasing each other. Dragging it out, wanting to be the first to finish so they were keeping the other as close to the edge for as long as possible.
Travis' lips parted and his eyes closed.
Wes kept his lips together, chin against his chest, concentrating hard as he tried to focus his senses to hold off his orgasm.
Emma spread her fingers over her chest, stroking the soft skin above the scooped collar of her blouse, and said, "Oh, what the hell. You both get the reward. But only if you finish now. Within the next minute. Come on. I want to see you come for each other." She touched her tongue to the corner of her mouth. "For me."
In her mind, she imagined Travis would come first. Wes was far more in control of himself, and she had little doubt he could hold off just a fraction of a second longer. She pictured them, framed by sunset pouring through the window, gleaming on their naked bodies, and she came with a stifled cry in the tub. She hunched her shoulders to press her breasts together with her upper arms, chin down against her chest, and slid her feet along the slick base of the tub.
Finally she sagged into the water, her chin just barely above the still-disturbed surface of the water as she stared up at the ceiling. She cleared her throat and brushed her hand over a heated cheek.
Of course, she would never do anything nearly so bold in real life. Regulations and ethics demanded that she maintain a professional distance from her clients. But it was fun to imagine.
Then again, there was always the chance desperate measures would be required with Detectives Marks and Mitchell. And if she had to resort to extremes to get them to trust one another... well. She lifted one foot out of the tub and watched the water trail down her calf. She grinned and bit her bottom lip.
It was good for a therapist to have a few tricks up her sleeve.
Author: geonncannon
Fandom: Common Law
Self-Lover: Emma Ryan, Travis Marks, Wes Mitchell
Spoilers: Pilot, Ride-Along
Words: 1,449
Date: Day 21
The post to suggest future pairings/stories!
Summary: Dr. Ryan would never use this method in real life. Maybe never. Well...
Emma tested the temperature of the water with her toe, deemed it suitable, and let her foot sink. She lowered herself into the water, mountain ranges of white bubbles rising on either side of her, and reclined into the corner. She crossed her ankles and bent her knees, lifting them up out of the water. She cupped her hands and washed them over her breasts, watching as the water coursed back down over their curves. A few bubbles were caught on her nipples so she brushed them away. Her eyes closed as she moved her thumb in long sweeps. She pinched one between two fingers and closed her eyes as she pinched, an inadvertent gasp slipping past her lips.
As she cupped her breast, she moved her other hand down over her stomach. She curled her fingers into claws and dragged it through her pubic hair. Spending the day with Travis and Wes had been... illuminating. Not just in a professional sense. She realized they were unlike any of her other clients, and that awakened many... possibilities. Not real, authentic possibilities, of course. She would never cross the line of propriety. But she could imagine.
'Never fantasize about a client' didn't even need to be a rule; it was just something she would never do. Working with married couples prevented even the barest of 'maybe possibly if the stars aligned' that would make her fantasy work. But Travis and Wes weren't married. She could fantasize about either of them, if she wished.
Or both.
She extended her middle finger and teased her labia. "Ah." She chuckled and imagined the two men in a truly private session. Standing in the circle of chairs, Emma circled them. The bathroom faded and she felt truly present in the therapy room. She could hear the ancient tremble of the air conditioner, feel its cool breath spreading across the room like an invisible wave. She heard the click of her heels on the floor.
"Face one another." Even in her fantasy they dithered, waiting to see if the other would move first before following her instruction. "Disrobe."
They both turned to look at her. Wes looked intrigued, Travis looked confused. She raised her eyebrows and waited to see if they would cooperate without being hand-fed an explanation, but of course they wouldn't. Who would? No, she would have to explain. She began to circle them again.
"Your personalities are masks. You protect yourselves, even from each other, every minute of the day. How can you possibly rely on each other in life and death situations if you're guarded? So take off your clothes. I assure you it's a perfectly safe environment."
Travis: "Well, I have no problem with it, I'm just thinking about Wes."
Wes: "Oh, you're worried about me? What do you think I'd have a problem with?"
"Well, you know, a... display like this." He shrugged and tilted his head to the side. "I know you're a grower not a show-er."
"Oh, I'm not a show-er?" He began unbuttoning his shirt and, an instant later, Travis started doing the same. "I got nothing to hide. I think you're just deflecting--"
"Oh, I'm deflecting?"
"Yeah, maybe if you listened to Dr. Ryan, you'd pick up on some of these terms. I find it very enlightening to have labels for--"
"Oh, you're all about labels. Easier to find out which box things go in."
Emma remained silent as she circled them. In the tub, she had spread her folds open and was stroking the pad of her middle finger against her sex. She arched her back, lifting herself slightly out of the water as she pictured their clothes hitting the floor. When they were naked, she imagined Wes crossing his wrists in front of him, Travis starting to do the same and then putting his hands on his hips in as casual a pose as a naked man could pull off.
Emma smiled. "Excellent." She pinched the wool of her scarf between two fingers and tugged it free, enjoying the imaginary brush of the material against the back of her neck as she pushed a finger inside herself. She gasped, the quiet sound amplified by the tile. She stepped closer to Wes and Travis and held up the scarf.
"Travis? Around your waist, please. And Wes, the same."
Travis rubbed his jaw. Oh, and a fine jaw it was. But nowhere near the level of deliciousness as his eyes. Oh, she could drown in those eyes. Even if he was standing before her naked as the day he was born, she would find it hard to tear her attention off those baby blues.
She knew they would hesitate, but in for a penny... they would lasso themselves and let her tie a bow. "Now, gentlemen. Take your partner in hand--"
"Whoa..."
"That is, ah..."
"We're not..."
"Nope."
Emma would put on her there-is-no-discussion-here voice. "Gentlemen."
They would stare each other down. Huff and puff. Their shoulders would be back, posing for each other, neither wanting to look like a coward or as if they were ashamed.
"Count of three?" That would be Wes.
"Who is counting?"
Emma said, "I'll count. One. Two--"
"Grab on three, or hear three and then grab?"
Travis rolled his eyes. "Oh, for..." He wrapped his fingers around Wes' cock. Wes tensed, eyes wide, and then he grabbed Travis' cock. Emma smiled and waited for them to relax, waited for it to evolve from a competition, a pissing contest (if you excuse the term), and became something more. She imagined the relaxing of their muscles. Once the line was crossed, it was easier. Nothing was left but to do it, so they began.
Emma moved closer. She could smell them; Travis and his cologne, Wes and his smell of soap and hand sanitizer, combining with the scent of pure male. Sweat and sex, the smell of arousal. In her tub, moving her body slightly to create waves that lapped against her breasts, she could smell it as she added a second finger to her sex. She narrowed her vision...
The slope of Wes' shoulder.
Travis' chest.
Their arms as they moved in concert with each other. Daring each other to the edge, to be the first to come. She imagined leaning in to Wes' ear, but speaking loud enough that Travis could hear when she said, "Whichever of you finishes first will get a reward from me." That changed their tactics. Neither wanted to be the first to finish, both wanted her. She shuddered at the knowledge. Now they were teasing each other. Dragging it out, wanting to be the first to finish so they were keeping the other as close to the edge for as long as possible.
Travis' lips parted and his eyes closed.
Wes kept his lips together, chin against his chest, concentrating hard as he tried to focus his senses to hold off his orgasm.
Emma spread her fingers over her chest, stroking the soft skin above the scooped collar of her blouse, and said, "Oh, what the hell. You both get the reward. But only if you finish now. Within the next minute. Come on. I want to see you come for each other." She touched her tongue to the corner of her mouth. "For me."
In her mind, she imagined Travis would come first. Wes was far more in control of himself, and she had little doubt he could hold off just a fraction of a second longer. She pictured them, framed by sunset pouring through the window, gleaming on their naked bodies, and she came with a stifled cry in the tub. She hunched her shoulders to press her breasts together with her upper arms, chin down against her chest, and slid her feet along the slick base of the tub.
Finally she sagged into the water, her chin just barely above the still-disturbed surface of the water as she stared up at the ceiling. She cleared her throat and brushed her hand over a heated cheek.
Of course, she would never do anything nearly so bold in real life. Regulations and ethics demanded that she maintain a professional distance from her clients. But it was fun to imagine.
Then again, there was always the chance desperate measures would be required with Detectives Marks and Mitchell. And if she had to resort to extremes to get them to trust one another... well. She lifted one foot out of the tub and watched the water trail down her calf. She grinned and bit her bottom lip.
It was good for a therapist to have a few tricks up her sleeve.