Sometimes Failing Upward (Jack/Liz/Claire)
Title: Sometimes Failing Upward
Prompt: un_love_you #19. This isn't about you at all.
Fandom: 30 Rock
Pairings: Jack/Liz/Claire, featuring Jack/Claire, Liz/Claire, Jack/Liz
Spoilers: through S3
Word Count: 3,018
Rating: NC-17
Table: Over here.
Notes: I wrote this out of nowhere and pretty quickly over a couple not-very-sleep-filled nights. I don't know if anyone will read it, but here it is.
Summary: You make a lot of mistakes. Here's another one.
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. Please don't sue.
*
You don't consider yourself a stupid person (usually), but you have made a lot of dumb mistakes. And -- you think some people might find this surprising -- you've made a lot of dumb sex mistakes, like imitating Jenna by trying to use your sexuality -- if you describe it that way when the person attempting the seduction isn't sexy -- to get your way at work and having unprotected sex with an ex-boyfriend you know it would be a bad idea to have a kid with. But this is your weirdest sex mistake yet, and it's all Jack's fault because, for the past year, as you've started to think that maybe Jack is kind of attractive, sort of, maybe, you've considered him a sex mistake waiting to happen.
Except not, since Jack doesn't think of you as someone he'd like to be naked with. But now he's getting there, unbuttoning his pants as Claire unhooks your bra, and you suppose you should blame Claire. Because if she hadn't returned, none of this would be happening. Well, if he hadn't fallen back into Claire's trap, she wouldn't have led him into your office late at night and casually suggested a threesome for the sake of unity. So... Jack's fault after all.
You? Well, you just make stupid mistakes. You intended to once again say no to this terrible suggestion, but then Jack kissed you, and you liked it more than you wanted to. Claire moved behind you, pulling up your skirt and sliding a hand between your legs to touch you through your underwear. You moaned into Jack's mouth, and stopping this didn't seem to make sense. Well, logically, it made a lot of sense. But he was drawing your leg up and you could feel yourself drowning in the anticipation you still experience when you're going to have sex with someone new. The hope that maybe this will be good, that you'll find every dull encounter was due to the men you were having sex with and not you being so repressed that no one could ever make you happy. And such hope, something intangible made real by the feel of his lips, his hand on your leg, his body so close, made you want this.
God. You want this.
So maybe it is your fault.
After all, you could refuse to let Claire lead you to the couch and not let her settle between your legs. You could tell Jack not to sit next to you and most certainly insist he not watch her go down on you. You could push him away when he starts to kiss your neck, could remove his hand from your breast. You could do a lot of things that aren't acquiescing, and if you weren't going to do any of it, you could at least not slide your hand into his boxers and wrap your fingers around his erection.
Well, at least no one can call you repressed now.
Yay?
No, only Jack and Claire can't call you repressed, because no one else will ever, ever know about this.
Yay.
Your heavy breathing catches for a moment and the next time you exhale, as Claire flicks your clit with her tongue, you moan in a way that sounds unlike anything you've let out before. Jack's eyes return to Claire between your legs, and you think about how Jack would not be doing this if it weren't for her. It depresses you, and you hate that Jack not wanting to have sex with you makes you feel awful and rejected and pathetic. You miss the time when the lines were clear; when Jack was someone you didn't want and would never make a mistake for. (Or at least when your mistakes were borne out of friendship... except you did things for him you'd never do for other friends, so maybe the lines were always blurry.)
"Oh God," you mutter as Claire's tongue rapidly moves over your clit. You arch toward her, eyes snapping shut as you will yourself to enjoy this instead of making it serious. People have meaningless sex all the time, right? You can do it for once. Spreading your legs wider, you let go of Jack and grip onto the edge of the couch. He exhales, but it's not his apparent disappointment that makes it impossible for you to resist reaching out for him again. Your fingers press into his thigh as you get closer to coming, are digging hard into his flesh as you reach that peak. You can feel his mouth traveling your breasts as your climax ripples through you. Slumping down as you pant, you blink your eyes open, look up at Claire as she rises to her feet. Jack's mouth is still on you, and as he kisses your neck, you turn your head to force him to stop. You press your lips against his, and the way he kisses you back, soft and sweet and lingering, would seem romantic in a different context. She kicks Jack in the shin to get his attention and you almost laugh because, God, what is happening here?
"You want to fuck me, Jack," and it sounds like a statement. Like a command, like maybe she uses hypnosis to get men to ruin themselves for her benefit. But Jack still nods as if he's been asked a question, and you watch as she retrieves his wallet from the pile of clothes on the floor and tosses it to him, as he gets a condom and takes off his boxers. Continue to watch as they move to the floor, Claire on her hands and knees and Jack behind her. He holds onto her hips as he fucks her, and you look at him as you listen to Claire's voice, urging him to go harder and faster and saying filthier things you wish you hadn't heard. When he looks over at you, you avert your eyes and watch the movement of Claire's body as she pushes back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust, so he doesn't think you're fixated on him or uncomfortable with watching their display. Because Claire will be gone again, and you want things to not be weird between you after she leaves. You want this evening to be a joke... a joke that you never acknowledge so it doesn't have to change anything.
It won't be that, but you want it to be.
Jack's arm wraps around Claire, pulling her to him so her back is pressed against his front. He grips her shoulder as he rapidly thrusts, and you watch his motion still as she screams out. She glares at you after she comes.
"Jesus, Liz, do something besides sit there."
I... what am I supposed to do? you think as you slide off the couch and get on your knees. You move over to them, but stay in front of Claire as you bring your hand to her chest. She sighs, annoyed, and grabs your wrist to put your hand between her legs. Then she tells Jack to keep going, and you're touching her while Jack moves inside her. You pinch her clit more forcefully than you'd want someone to touch you because you think she'd probably like it, and she seems to.
"Maybe you're not as bad a fuck as you seem," Claire says, and you don't know if you're supposed to consider that a compliment.
You don't look Jack in the eyes as you continue to roughly touch her, and you think you might be taking this charade of not favoring him too far because you're supposed to at least acknowledge everyone in a three-way situation, right? When you look at him, you find his gaze focused on your breasts. Your worst quadrant, right, but you want to believe he's not evaluating you critically. That he merely wants to look at you. His eyes meet yours and you exhale nervously as he reaches for you, urging you closer to him. He's touching your ass as you quicken the movements of your fingers, and you decide it's okay for you to touch him. You rest your hand on his chest as his hand slips between your legs. He strokes the insides of your thighs, feels the slickness that's accumulated there, but doesn't touch your sex. Maybe she doesn't want him to touch you there. You want him to touch you there, but you don't think you're allowed to request anything. You're not supposed to be in charge.
You kiss her so you can have an excuse to do the same to him. You're still messily pressing your lips against his between moans and exhalations when she comes again. Claire rubs up and down against him, and you slide your slick fingers up and down his arm. He pulls his hand away from you, and you brush your fingers over his.
You begin, "So... now--"
"I'm going to watch Jack fuck you."
"Oh."
Jack pulls out of her, takes the condom off his still hard cock. You notice her watching you with narrowed eyes.
"You want him to fuck you, don't you?" She points a finger at you, almost wagging it in disapproval. "You always want to fuck every guy I get involved with."
It's strange, you think, for her to turn accusatory in this situation, and you say, "I thought you wanted me to."
"I'm being generous. I'm your friend."
Now you do laugh, in a way that's nervous and awkward. "I'm sorry... just. I'm sorry."
Jack wraps an arm around you. You laugh against his chest, say sorry until you quiet down. He tilts your chin up and kisses you, and you think this one would also count as romantic in a different context. Claire mutters a comment about how you're crazy and... really? She should not think of anyone else as crazy. She shouldn't have a barometer for that, even a faulty one. He moves a little closer to the couch, breaking contact with you as he reaches for his wallet and gets a new condom. Oh, this must be a rule. If you have sex with two women in a row, never use the same condom and of course he would know that. Of course he would think of that.
He hesitates as he's about to rip open the foil wrapper. "Do you want to do this?" he asks, and it occurs to you that this is the first time you've heard him say actual words since this thing started.
"Yeah," you say, and you can't believe how casual you sound.
"Just fuck her already," Claire says.
"Yeah, let's... yeah."
He kisses you again, and soon you're on your back. You've never had sex on a floor before, but you suppose the more important detail is that there's a woman watching you. But, honestly, you'd rather ignore her, and this goal is helped by the fact that you can't see her as Jack settles above you, bracing himself with his hands. You guide him inside you, wrap a leg around him as he pushes deeper. He starts to slide out, and you wrap the other leg around him, grip tightening as he deeply thrusts, filling you. You reach up to touch him as he starts to move, stroking his chest and his shoulders and hoping Claire doesn't touch him. But soon, as if she knows you don't want it, but more likely because it's what is supposed to happen, she's next to the two of you, in your eye line as she rubs his back. You focus on his face, and your gaze locks with his. You don't know what to make of the way he's looking at you, focused and intense, and you suppose he's still in some sort of trance. Of course he wants to fuck you, because Claire wants him to fuck you, but the logic doesn't take away from how him staring ardently at you makes you moan a little louder. You can feel his pelvis slowly rub against your clit before he pushes back inside you, then again and again. It feels so amazing, everything, and you're not sure if it's because you've been extremely turned on this whole time despite yourself or because you care for him as much as you do. But maybe it all comes together, as you've been so aroused because of how much you like him.
Claire pinches your nipple, but you still refuse to look at her. Now you're being way too obvious about your preferences, but Claire knows, right? Jack knows because he's always thought you had a thing for him, even before you did. He knows because his attention is on you, because he's watching you stare up at him with all this need in your eyes, because he's listening to you mutter his name over and over again.
He leans down to kiss you and Claire forces your legs up higher. Your fingers dig into his back as he keeps going. She asks if you like him fucking you, if you like his cock, and you wouldn't know how to answer even if you could carry on a conversation. But you start talking to drown her out, start telling him how good this feels, and you suppose you are replying to her. You quiet as she starts describing the way she's touching him, how she's playing with his balls and he likes that, doesn't he -- and you guess he does because his groans are louder than they were -- not because you're uncomfortable -- though you are -- but because you can't manage to speak as you move closer to the edge.
Then you come, the pleasure spreading through your body, and it's so good, better than when Claire's head was between your legs, and see, you were right to be optimistic, and these noises are ones you've never made before, either. You can feel him kissing your neck; feel him thrusting faster and faster until he moans against your flesh. After he rolls off of you, Claire starts complaining about how he was supposed to come when he's screwing her, because everyone knows you don't come in the interloper, and you think that's the most bizarre thing you've ever heard and you've heard a lot of crazy things. "Everyone knows you don't come in the interloper." Sure.
"I think you should go," Jack says, and you can't believe Jack is asking you to leave your office so he can make it up to Claire, but then he didn't mind taking over your living room for a talk with his last crazy girlfriend, so why shouldn't you be sent away this time? It stings more now, because you smell of him, because you still haven't opened your eyes fully since he made you come. You wanted him to reject you in a less harsh way.
"Are you serious?" Claire says, and then your eyes snap open.
"I want you to leave," he says.
She looks like she wants to punch him, and you're surprised she doesn't. He liked that, right? Maybe she could win him back. "I knew you'd steal him away, Liz," and you can't believe you have. You wonder if he's actually chosen you or if sex with any woman would have broken Claire's spell. "I try to be your friend, try to make us all friends, but I knew I couldn't trust you." She puts on her clothes angrily, and you actually didn't know anyone could pull a dress over her head angrily, but here you go. "She's never going to suck you off in a Baskin-Robbins."
You're dazed for a moment as you hear the door slam. You look over at him. "She's right; I'm not going to do that."
He moves onto his side, nuzzling your cheek. He inhales, and you're still not sure if he wants to breathe you in or just the scent of a woman who's not Claire. His palm rests between your breasts, and you hold onto his arm as you tentatively kiss the corner of his mouth. He tilts his head, pressing his lips against yours.
You want to say something, but you can't manage to find any appropriate words. So you close your eyes. Breathe him in.
His hand slides up, fingertips against your collarbone as he breaks the contact of your mouths. You open your eyes, and he's looking at you the way he did when he was inside you, like you're all he wants to focus on, except you know it must be real. He has to want you. Right?
"I'm going to make it up to you," he says. "I shouldn't have allowed the consummation of our relationship to involve a third party."
Relationship. It's really the only word he could have used, but you still find yourself relaxing at the suggestion. Then:
"It's one thing to let a situation such as this happen at the beginning of a casual affair--"
"Okay," you say. "I get it." You exhale. "You realize I'm never going to do anything like this again, right? I don't want to watch you have sex with another woman ever again."
"I'd prefer it if we engage in scenarios in which I wouldn't, but--"
"Yeah, that's probably not happening, either. Just focus on me, okay? Aren't you supposed to be making it up to me?"
"I intend to, Lemon. I'm not saying I wish to invite another person into this anytime soon, simply that if it ever happened, I would have no interest in any woman but you."
You can't believe he made a conversation about a hypothetical three-way, had after an actual three-way, into something kind of sweet. "Yeah. Okay."
You kiss him. Soon his hand slips between your legs, and this doesn't feel like a sex mistake.
You like it when things work out after you screw up. It should occur more often.
"I let this happen, too," you say. "So, really, we should make it up to each other."
He smiles.
END
Prompt: un_love_you #19. This isn't about you at all.
Fandom: 30 Rock
Pairings: Jack/Liz/Claire, featuring Jack/Claire, Liz/Claire, Jack/Liz
Spoilers: through S3
Word Count: 3,018
Rating: NC-17
Table: Over here.
Notes: I wrote this out of nowhere and pretty quickly over a couple not-very-sleep-filled nights. I don't know if anyone will read it, but here it is.
Summary: You make a lot of mistakes. Here's another one.
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. Please don't sue.
*
You don't consider yourself a stupid person (usually), but you have made a lot of dumb mistakes. And -- you think some people might find this surprising -- you've made a lot of dumb sex mistakes, like imitating Jenna by trying to use your sexuality -- if you describe it that way when the person attempting the seduction isn't sexy -- to get your way at work and having unprotected sex with an ex-boyfriend you know it would be a bad idea to have a kid with. But this is your weirdest sex mistake yet, and it's all Jack's fault because, for the past year, as you've started to think that maybe Jack is kind of attractive, sort of, maybe, you've considered him a sex mistake waiting to happen.
Except not, since Jack doesn't think of you as someone he'd like to be naked with. But now he's getting there, unbuttoning his pants as Claire unhooks your bra, and you suppose you should blame Claire. Because if she hadn't returned, none of this would be happening. Well, if he hadn't fallen back into Claire's trap, she wouldn't have led him into your office late at night and casually suggested a threesome for the sake of unity. So... Jack's fault after all.
You? Well, you just make stupid mistakes. You intended to once again say no to this terrible suggestion, but then Jack kissed you, and you liked it more than you wanted to. Claire moved behind you, pulling up your skirt and sliding a hand between your legs to touch you through your underwear. You moaned into Jack's mouth, and stopping this didn't seem to make sense. Well, logically, it made a lot of sense. But he was drawing your leg up and you could feel yourself drowning in the anticipation you still experience when you're going to have sex with someone new. The hope that maybe this will be good, that you'll find every dull encounter was due to the men you were having sex with and not you being so repressed that no one could ever make you happy. And such hope, something intangible made real by the feel of his lips, his hand on your leg, his body so close, made you want this.
God. You want this.
So maybe it is your fault.
After all, you could refuse to let Claire lead you to the couch and not let her settle between your legs. You could tell Jack not to sit next to you and most certainly insist he not watch her go down on you. You could push him away when he starts to kiss your neck, could remove his hand from your breast. You could do a lot of things that aren't acquiescing, and if you weren't going to do any of it, you could at least not slide your hand into his boxers and wrap your fingers around his erection.
Well, at least no one can call you repressed now.
Yay?
No, only Jack and Claire can't call you repressed, because no one else will ever, ever know about this.
Yay.
Your heavy breathing catches for a moment and the next time you exhale, as Claire flicks your clit with her tongue, you moan in a way that sounds unlike anything you've let out before. Jack's eyes return to Claire between your legs, and you think about how Jack would not be doing this if it weren't for her. It depresses you, and you hate that Jack not wanting to have sex with you makes you feel awful and rejected and pathetic. You miss the time when the lines were clear; when Jack was someone you didn't want and would never make a mistake for. (Or at least when your mistakes were borne out of friendship... except you did things for him you'd never do for other friends, so maybe the lines were always blurry.)
"Oh God," you mutter as Claire's tongue rapidly moves over your clit. You arch toward her, eyes snapping shut as you will yourself to enjoy this instead of making it serious. People have meaningless sex all the time, right? You can do it for once. Spreading your legs wider, you let go of Jack and grip onto the edge of the couch. He exhales, but it's not his apparent disappointment that makes it impossible for you to resist reaching out for him again. Your fingers press into his thigh as you get closer to coming, are digging hard into his flesh as you reach that peak. You can feel his mouth traveling your breasts as your climax ripples through you. Slumping down as you pant, you blink your eyes open, look up at Claire as she rises to her feet. Jack's mouth is still on you, and as he kisses your neck, you turn your head to force him to stop. You press your lips against his, and the way he kisses you back, soft and sweet and lingering, would seem romantic in a different context. She kicks Jack in the shin to get his attention and you almost laugh because, God, what is happening here?
"You want to fuck me, Jack," and it sounds like a statement. Like a command, like maybe she uses hypnosis to get men to ruin themselves for her benefit. But Jack still nods as if he's been asked a question, and you watch as she retrieves his wallet from the pile of clothes on the floor and tosses it to him, as he gets a condom and takes off his boxers. Continue to watch as they move to the floor, Claire on her hands and knees and Jack behind her. He holds onto her hips as he fucks her, and you look at him as you listen to Claire's voice, urging him to go harder and faster and saying filthier things you wish you hadn't heard. When he looks over at you, you avert your eyes and watch the movement of Claire's body as she pushes back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust, so he doesn't think you're fixated on him or uncomfortable with watching their display. Because Claire will be gone again, and you want things to not be weird between you after she leaves. You want this evening to be a joke... a joke that you never acknowledge so it doesn't have to change anything.
It won't be that, but you want it to be.
Jack's arm wraps around Claire, pulling her to him so her back is pressed against his front. He grips her shoulder as he rapidly thrusts, and you watch his motion still as she screams out. She glares at you after she comes.
"Jesus, Liz, do something besides sit there."
I... what am I supposed to do? you think as you slide off the couch and get on your knees. You move over to them, but stay in front of Claire as you bring your hand to her chest. She sighs, annoyed, and grabs your wrist to put your hand between her legs. Then she tells Jack to keep going, and you're touching her while Jack moves inside her. You pinch her clit more forcefully than you'd want someone to touch you because you think she'd probably like it, and she seems to.
"Maybe you're not as bad a fuck as you seem," Claire says, and you don't know if you're supposed to consider that a compliment.
You don't look Jack in the eyes as you continue to roughly touch her, and you think you might be taking this charade of not favoring him too far because you're supposed to at least acknowledge everyone in a three-way situation, right? When you look at him, you find his gaze focused on your breasts. Your worst quadrant, right, but you want to believe he's not evaluating you critically. That he merely wants to look at you. His eyes meet yours and you exhale nervously as he reaches for you, urging you closer to him. He's touching your ass as you quicken the movements of your fingers, and you decide it's okay for you to touch him. You rest your hand on his chest as his hand slips between your legs. He strokes the insides of your thighs, feels the slickness that's accumulated there, but doesn't touch your sex. Maybe she doesn't want him to touch you there. You want him to touch you there, but you don't think you're allowed to request anything. You're not supposed to be in charge.
You kiss her so you can have an excuse to do the same to him. You're still messily pressing your lips against his between moans and exhalations when she comes again. Claire rubs up and down against him, and you slide your slick fingers up and down his arm. He pulls his hand away from you, and you brush your fingers over his.
You begin, "So... now--"
"I'm going to watch Jack fuck you."
"Oh."
Jack pulls out of her, takes the condom off his still hard cock. You notice her watching you with narrowed eyes.
"You want him to fuck you, don't you?" She points a finger at you, almost wagging it in disapproval. "You always want to fuck every guy I get involved with."
It's strange, you think, for her to turn accusatory in this situation, and you say, "I thought you wanted me to."
"I'm being generous. I'm your friend."
Now you do laugh, in a way that's nervous and awkward. "I'm sorry... just. I'm sorry."
Jack wraps an arm around you. You laugh against his chest, say sorry until you quiet down. He tilts your chin up and kisses you, and you think this one would also count as romantic in a different context. Claire mutters a comment about how you're crazy and... really? She should not think of anyone else as crazy. She shouldn't have a barometer for that, even a faulty one. He moves a little closer to the couch, breaking contact with you as he reaches for his wallet and gets a new condom. Oh, this must be a rule. If you have sex with two women in a row, never use the same condom and of course he would know that. Of course he would think of that.
He hesitates as he's about to rip open the foil wrapper. "Do you want to do this?" he asks, and it occurs to you that this is the first time you've heard him say actual words since this thing started.
"Yeah," you say, and you can't believe how casual you sound.
"Just fuck her already," Claire says.
"Yeah, let's... yeah."
He kisses you again, and soon you're on your back. You've never had sex on a floor before, but you suppose the more important detail is that there's a woman watching you. But, honestly, you'd rather ignore her, and this goal is helped by the fact that you can't see her as Jack settles above you, bracing himself with his hands. You guide him inside you, wrap a leg around him as he pushes deeper. He starts to slide out, and you wrap the other leg around him, grip tightening as he deeply thrusts, filling you. You reach up to touch him as he starts to move, stroking his chest and his shoulders and hoping Claire doesn't touch him. But soon, as if she knows you don't want it, but more likely because it's what is supposed to happen, she's next to the two of you, in your eye line as she rubs his back. You focus on his face, and your gaze locks with his. You don't know what to make of the way he's looking at you, focused and intense, and you suppose he's still in some sort of trance. Of course he wants to fuck you, because Claire wants him to fuck you, but the logic doesn't take away from how him staring ardently at you makes you moan a little louder. You can feel his pelvis slowly rub against your clit before he pushes back inside you, then again and again. It feels so amazing, everything, and you're not sure if it's because you've been extremely turned on this whole time despite yourself or because you care for him as much as you do. But maybe it all comes together, as you've been so aroused because of how much you like him.
Claire pinches your nipple, but you still refuse to look at her. Now you're being way too obvious about your preferences, but Claire knows, right? Jack knows because he's always thought you had a thing for him, even before you did. He knows because his attention is on you, because he's watching you stare up at him with all this need in your eyes, because he's listening to you mutter his name over and over again.
He leans down to kiss you and Claire forces your legs up higher. Your fingers dig into his back as he keeps going. She asks if you like him fucking you, if you like his cock, and you wouldn't know how to answer even if you could carry on a conversation. But you start talking to drown her out, start telling him how good this feels, and you suppose you are replying to her. You quiet as she starts describing the way she's touching him, how she's playing with his balls and he likes that, doesn't he -- and you guess he does because his groans are louder than they were -- not because you're uncomfortable -- though you are -- but because you can't manage to speak as you move closer to the edge.
Then you come, the pleasure spreading through your body, and it's so good, better than when Claire's head was between your legs, and see, you were right to be optimistic, and these noises are ones you've never made before, either. You can feel him kissing your neck; feel him thrusting faster and faster until he moans against your flesh. After he rolls off of you, Claire starts complaining about how he was supposed to come when he's screwing her, because everyone knows you don't come in the interloper, and you think that's the most bizarre thing you've ever heard and you've heard a lot of crazy things. "Everyone knows you don't come in the interloper." Sure.
"I think you should go," Jack says, and you can't believe Jack is asking you to leave your office so he can make it up to Claire, but then he didn't mind taking over your living room for a talk with his last crazy girlfriend, so why shouldn't you be sent away this time? It stings more now, because you smell of him, because you still haven't opened your eyes fully since he made you come. You wanted him to reject you in a less harsh way.
"Are you serious?" Claire says, and then your eyes snap open.
"I want you to leave," he says.
She looks like she wants to punch him, and you're surprised she doesn't. He liked that, right? Maybe she could win him back. "I knew you'd steal him away, Liz," and you can't believe you have. You wonder if he's actually chosen you or if sex with any woman would have broken Claire's spell. "I try to be your friend, try to make us all friends, but I knew I couldn't trust you." She puts on her clothes angrily, and you actually didn't know anyone could pull a dress over her head angrily, but here you go. "She's never going to suck you off in a Baskin-Robbins."
You're dazed for a moment as you hear the door slam. You look over at him. "She's right; I'm not going to do that."
He moves onto his side, nuzzling your cheek. He inhales, and you're still not sure if he wants to breathe you in or just the scent of a woman who's not Claire. His palm rests between your breasts, and you hold onto his arm as you tentatively kiss the corner of his mouth. He tilts his head, pressing his lips against yours.
You want to say something, but you can't manage to find any appropriate words. So you close your eyes. Breathe him in.
His hand slides up, fingertips against your collarbone as he breaks the contact of your mouths. You open your eyes, and he's looking at you the way he did when he was inside you, like you're all he wants to focus on, except you know it must be real. He has to want you. Right?
"I'm going to make it up to you," he says. "I shouldn't have allowed the consummation of our relationship to involve a third party."
Relationship. It's really the only word he could have used, but you still find yourself relaxing at the suggestion. Then:
"It's one thing to let a situation such as this happen at the beginning of a casual affair--"
"Okay," you say. "I get it." You exhale. "You realize I'm never going to do anything like this again, right? I don't want to watch you have sex with another woman ever again."
"I'd prefer it if we engage in scenarios in which I wouldn't, but--"
"Yeah, that's probably not happening, either. Just focus on me, okay? Aren't you supposed to be making it up to me?"
"I intend to, Lemon. I'm not saying I wish to invite another person into this anytime soon, simply that if it ever happened, I would have no interest in any woman but you."
You can't believe he made a conversation about a hypothetical three-way, had after an actual three-way, into something kind of sweet. "Yeah. Okay."
You kiss him. Soon his hand slips between your legs, and this doesn't feel like a sex mistake.
You like it when things work out after you screw up. It should occur more often.
"I let this happen, too," you say. "So, really, we should make it up to each other."
He smiles.
END