by AR Moler
***
Sitting at his desk trying to one-handedly reply to a raft of email was like being on a slow tilt-a whirl, Danny decided. Dilaudid dampened the agony in his arm down to a background annoyance level, but the trade-off was dizziness, brain-fog and a total lack of shielding. Blissfully, the only other person in the room was Jennifer. She was sitting in a chair with a pad in her lap, drawing something. He wondered momentarily what it was she was sketching, then tried to return his focus back the computer.
"You know, if you dictate, I can type. I won't set any speed records but I do have two hands," Jennifer said.
Danny considered the concept for a minute. "Yeah, that might be a good idea. The one-handed thing is driving me crazy." They rearranged the chairs so that she was in front of his desk and he was beside her, gazing over her shoulder. "Open the one forwarded from Bottman, it looks like an assignment request."
"What's an assignment request?"
"It has to do with me deciding if and who to send out on a job. The other government agencies and military tend to view Division P as a sort of last ditch desperation plea. Most of them consider us a bunch of serious crackpots, so sometimes the requests for assistance that we get are pretty bizarre. Bottman usually weeds out the really whacked ones; the rest get fielded to me or Steve Milbourne. He handles roughly the western half of the U.S. and I handle the eastern half.
Overseas ops usually get dumped in my lap, too."
"Interesting. Obviously, you spend some time in the field, too."
"Yeah, that part has its good and bad points." Danny made a gesture at the sling.
Jennifer gave him a rueful smile.
They spent the next hour hacking through the e-mail before meds, exhaustion and the aftermath of the previous couple of days all began to catch up with Danny. Jennifer's shoulder looked like an awfully inviting place to rest, so he leaned his head sideways onto her shoulder and closed his eyes.
"Danny? You're not going to pass out on me, are you? 'Cause there's no way I can pick you up off the floor," asked Jennifer. He could feel the wash of her concern.
"Pass out, no. Fall asleep, maybe," admitted Danny.
"Maybe I should shoo you in the direction of your quarters, and tuck you in bed."
"Peter's place. He claimed he might cook dinner."
God, she smelled good. Danny rolled his head so that his face was not quite buried against her collar bone.
Jennifer smelled faintly of something sweet and fruity and feminine. It was delicious in a sort of comforting way and he thought falling asleep with his face pressed into the softness of her breasts and Peter's lithe muscular body spooned against his back would be a died and gone to heaven moment.
Then he felt Jennifer flinch just a little. Shit. Here he was practically stoned out of his mind on meds, daydreaming of some version of a three-way and forgetting that the woman involved could see the mental image as clearly as if he was the one drawing the picture. She cleared her throat a little before she spoke.
"Maybe you ought to get Peter's opinion on that concept. Inviting me to have dinner with the two of you is just a little bit different from inviting me to share your bed," she said.
"Ask him. I know you two shared a moment when he was stressing over me getting shot." Oh, there was a hint of guilty pleasure from her when he said that. "And we got pretty close that night on the beach. Anyway, right at the moment I'm more interested in the sleep part regarding us and bed, than anything else." Danny let his head droop a little more heavily against her shoulder.
***
Jennifer slouched in an easy chair, barely watching some talk show on TV. Danny had crashed on Peter's sofa and was asleep. She looked at the way his free hand was balled into a fist and the tight way his body was curled and suspected that whatever pain stuff Peter had given him was wearing off. Her thoughts fiddled with the visual she had seen in Danny's head, and the idea. Ménage a trois was a risqué idea. She was enough of an adult to know that the porn industry fueled the fantasy of one man and two women, but two guys and one woman? Okay, that was a little different. The added information that she knew both the guys were into each other, seemed to add another twist.
Would any woman do? Was it just the idea of sharing a sex partner that floated Danny's boat? Except the image had not really been about sex. It was about sleep and comfort.
"That's quite a handful of ideas," said Peter, squatting down beside her chair.
She jerked, startled, having not heard him come into the apartment. "It's freakin' rude to go poking around inside other people's heads."
Peter smiled at her. "It's what we do. Anyway, my intention was to scope out how Danny's doing and your line of thought kind of grabbed my attention."
"It wasn't my thought. Okay, that's not exactly what I meant. Danny's the one who was thinking about being in bed between you and me… and I'm really digging a deep hole here aren't I?" Jennifer stared at the ceiling in acute embarrassment.
Peter tipped her face back down with a finger on her chin. "It's cute when you're flustered."
"Gee, thanks," she said.
He wrapped his fingers around her hand. "So why was Danny entertaining ideas of the three of us?"
"He was tired and hurting and feeling like crap, and I guess it just popped into his head as one of those 'geez wouldn't that be awesome' random thoughts. Listen it's just daydreamy sort of shit. I wouldn't get between you two."
He pressed two fingers against her lips. "Did you ever stop to think we might like the concept of you between us?" he asked.
Jennifer was sure her eyes must have bugged a little.
"Danny and I have a thing. You were right about that, we've been avoiding the fact that it goes way deeper than just sex. How much deeper, we're still working that out. But you fit into this picture, too. You have this…
unconventional approach that makes us both face up to ideas we tend to avoid."
"Unconventional? Usually I get accused of being hot-tempered, flaky and non-P.C." Jennifer replied.
"I like you just the way you are." Peter stood up and put a knee between her legs against the chair cushion.
He leaned down and planted a soft kiss on her mouth. It surprised her. Maybe Danny was right in suggesting that Peter didn't have a problem with sharing. "I'm going to check on Danny. Feel free to go hunt through my kitchen and see if you have any bright ideas regarding dinner."
***
Peter knelt down beside the sofa where Danny was sprawled asleep. God damn it, he should have insisted the idiot spend the day in bed. He should have known that Danny would try to tough his way through the day as if nothing was wrong, rather than doing the bare minimum and giving his arm a chance to heal a little. Peter laid his hand gently on Danny's chest and let his senses explore. There was pain, inflammation around the nerves near the wound and some overall exhaustion. Not great, but nothing critical. Peter sent a soft surge of energy into his lover's body and damped down the pain.
Beneath his hand, he felt Danny relax a little deeper into sleep. All right, that would do for a few minutes, though eventually he was going to have to wake Danny up and herd him off to bed.
Peter walked into the narrow galley kitchen. Jennifer was peering into the refrigerator.
"I think you said something about volunteering to cook?" she said.
"I will. I'm just bad at trying to decide what to fix."
"Wimp," she replied.
Peter gave a snort of laughter. "You in the mood for spaghetti?" he asked. "I have some sauce in the cupboard."
"I suppose. Stuff out of a jar never lives up to the hype."
"With a name like Sebastiano, I'm guessing there's some heavy-carb, rib-sticking food in your background."
"Oh yeah, if Mom was in the mood it was homemade ravioli and marinara sauce with Italian sausage in it.
And garlic knots with enough garlic to smell them a block away. Oh man, now I'm hungry."
"Do you cook?" Peter asked.
"W
ell, enough not to starve."
***
The three of them lingered over dinner, talking about food and restaurants and cooking. Danny fidgeted repeatedly, trying to find a position that made his arm ache less, all the while trying to stay under Peter's radar. He was enjoying the conversation and Jennifer's presence.
"I absolutely suck at making pie crusts. My mother can make them without rubbing two brain cells together, and they're awesome. Mine tend to come out soggy and gummy," Jennifer said.
"Note on the calendar. Do not ask Jen to bring pies on Thanksgiving unless she buys them." Peter drew in the air with his finger. "And you," he pointed a finger at Danny. "Unless you're doing an imitation of a preschooler doing the pee-pee dance, you are busted."
He reached across the table and curled his fingers around Danny's wrist. Danny felt the flood of warmth creeping up his arm soothing the pain. "Time to get back to what I put off this afternoon. Bed."
"Guess that's my cue to leave," said Jennifer.
"Don't," said Danny. He glanced at Peter for back up.
"Stay. I wasn't planning on jumping him, at least not tonight," Peter said. "It would be nice to have you hang around."
"Um…" Jennifer seemed awfully hesitant.
"Please," Danny pleaded.
In the bedroom, Danny endured having the restraining sling stripped off along with his shirt. Peter turned the radio on low in the background as Danny lay down. He crooked a finger at Jennifer and beckoned her to sit where he could lay his head in her lap. Peter sat cross-legged at Danny's side so he could have direct access to Danny's injury.
Danny took Jennifer's hand in his and rubbed his thumb across her palm, that intimate little psi gesture that touched a hand chakra.. He was tired and but for Peter's ministrations would probably be hurting, and still he wanted her. Having her this close was really nice.
She was very still. He bumped his mind gently against her shielding, seeking an entrance. She was hesitant, only gradually letting him in. He could feel her conflict, curiosity banging heads with a conservative guilt. He sucked on her fingertips and breathed against her palm. He was playing, wondering if he could stir up the flame that had flared between them that night on the beach.
His own shielding down, he noticed the warm energy of Peter's healing change tone. There was a hint of arousal from him running as an undercurrent.
"Dan, babe, you're being a distraction," said Peter.
"You're making me have second thoughts about not jumping you."
Danny raised an eyebrow, "Babe?" he said incredulously.
"You have a problem with that?"
"I don't think I've had anybody call me babe since I was about fifteen," replied Danny.
This sparked giggles from Jennifer. Danny turned his head and closed his teeth on the front of Jennifer's shirt, pulling it up. She was still laughing as he reached his free arm back and dragged her down to sprawl on the bed beside him. Her head was near his thigh and his arm was under her hips. Her legs had wiggled in the opposite direction and hung halfway off the bed. He closed his teeth on the curve of her behind, just hard enough that she had to feel the pressure through her jeans. She let out a squeal. He hauled her body up on top of his, turning his head to duck his face under her squirming legs. This put her face damn near level with his crotch and his head between her thighs. He bit down on her inner thigh, exhaling against the thick fabric.
"No!" she squealed in between giggles.
"Really?" he asked, giving her a chance to call their playful wrestling match off if she was actually too uncomfortable with the idea.
She paused for about one full second, before saying,
"Do not stop." She paid him back by nipping at his now hard cock. He let out a groan.
"You know I'm feeling distinctly left out of this,"
groused Peter.
"Lay on top of her, we'll make a girl sandwich. Oh God, fuck, Jen, you're torturing me!" Danny moaned.
She was rubbing and biting him through his slacks and he felt like he was about thirty seconds from just flat out blowing his load. Peter's hand slipped between Danny's chin and Jen's spread legs, pressing up between her thighs. Danny snickered a little at the sudden increase of tension in Jen's body.
Danny changed tactics. He let go of his grip on Jennifer's hips and stretched his hand up over his head where Peter was kneeling. His cupped his hand up under Peter's balls, feeling Peter's half arousal, and began to tease him, too. Damn, he wished he had two working hands, but every flex of his injured arm brought a shiver of pain, only half damped by Peter's now distracted mind. Danny gave into the exquisitely pleasurable sensations at his groin, bucking into the rubbing and gnawing warmth of Jen's mouth. Everything let loose, a full body shudder and surging sticky heat. The nicely padded squirming body on top of his stilled for a moment, then her knees pushed harder on his shoulders as she ground against Peter's hand. Danny's hand fumbled at Peter's belt and zipper, only getting it open with help from Peter. Closing his hand around Peter's hot prick, he stroked his lover, all the while feeling the build from Jen.
Peter was almost there, too. Danny reveled in the combined wave of pure lust. A little whimper from Jen preceded her jerky release and she gasped against Danny's hip. Two down, one to go. Danny scooted back a little and managed to squirm out from under Jen just enough to take Peter's cock in his mouth. Lapping across the tip and then sucking it, Danny tipped Peter over the edge, swallowing hard, as his lover came in his mouth.
They all sagged into a tangle of arms and legs with Jennifer sliding sideways to lie parallel to the headboard.
"You okay? I didn't bang into your arm, did I?" Peter slurred a little.
"No, it's fine…" Danny answered. "Jen?"
"Unh, what? Think my brain's off-line," was her mumbled reply.
Danny chuckled a little.
"Next time, there needs to be less clothes involved,"
said Peter.
"Next time?" asked Jennifer.
"Yeah, next time. 'Cause anything this good has to be revisited," concluded Danny.
***
"So how's the forensic course thing going?" Jennifer's mother asked over the phone. Jennifer had told her parents a partial truth about how she was spending her summer. She had spun a tale of a special, invitation-only seminar for forensic sketch artists to help refine her technique and talents. Okay, it wasn't a total lie: that was the primary goal of Division P's training. It just happened to be a lot more specialized and profoundly weirder than that.
"Fine, Mom. Kind of grueling but good."
"Meet anybody nice?" Jennifer rolled her eyes and stared at the ceiling of her room for a moment. Oh Lord, how could she even begin to explain to her very Catholic mother her attraction to two separate men who also had their own relationship?
"Most everybody's been friendly and very helpful,"
Jennifer replied.
"Any nice single men?"
"Mom, I'm not here to find a husband."
"I know, but you need to look a little harder. You're almost thirty. The biological clock is ticking, honey,"
her mother said.
"We've had this discussion before. If children never end up being part of my life, that's okay. On the other hand if you're so hot to have a grandchild, maybe I should find a willing sperm donor."
"Jennifer! You were raised better than that!"
"Yeah well, virginity went out the window about ten years ago."
"I do not want to hear how bad you've been. When's the last time you went to confession?"
"About eight months ago," Jennifer admitted.
"Your father would be horrified if I told him."
"Dad's pretty horrified by my entire life. He thinks I belong barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen."
"He does not. He thinks you have a very respectable job teaching at the college. He just thinks you ought to focus on that and stay away from all the horrifying things that people tell you about the crimes they've suffered," her mo
ther replied.
"I help people, Mom. I help make sure that bad people pay for what they've done. Listen, I have to go, class is about to start up again."
Jennifer hung up and flopped back on her bed. Her mother often got on her last nerve, but talking to her narrow-minded overbearing father was worse. There was actually another hour before she had to be anywhere else.
Her mind returned to the thoughts she had mostly avoided when talking to her mother. What exactly did she want to do about Peter and Danny? Was her desire to get involved with them just another hard headed rebellion against her family's conservative values? God knows, better than fifty percent of what she had done with her life over the past decade had been a direct and intentional defiance against them. But, in retrospect, she liked what she did, all of it. The teaching, the forensics, her stabs at original artwork. She hadn't lied when she told her mother that she helped people. Division P
would make her better at that, and give her some nice federal backing, too.
Glancing at the clock, Jennifer decided maybe she'd go grab a soda from the cafeteria before the dreaded session at telepathic word retrieval.
***
"See you next week," said Peter as Mason Flynn left. He watched the tall surgeon walk out the door. For a doctor with precious little formal psi training, Flynn was impressive. Raw Talent that strong rivaled Peter's own.
The guy might even eventually surpass him.
Peter swiveled his chair back to face his desk, trying to make up his mind what to do with his evening. With his arm back to near normal by way of Peter's care, Danny had gone to Chicago for a few days to check on the progress of one of the newer agents. There were no other pressing crises at the moment and Peter was at loose ends. He found himself thinking of Jennifer. It had been a couple of weeks since the three of them had messed around the night Danny got home. That had been a delightfully memorable experience. Although they had all had dinner together several times since then, the interaction had mostly been confined to flirting, kissing and a little groping. Danny and Peter had agreed that they wouldn't push too hard, while they gave Jen some time to decide how she felt about something more intense.
