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“You know,” Faye muses, tucking her arms behind her head. “I don’t think I’m into men.”
Jet and Spike look up from where they’re sharing space between her legs with matching bewildered expressions, like Ein when someone calls his name with too much force.
“What?” Faye asks, sitting up slightly.
Jet takes his hand off her clit, which absolutely will not do. Faye kicks him in the metal elbow—ow—and puts on her best scowl over her blissed-out sex face, which, or so Spike has been telling her in that throaty whisper of his, is distractingly hot. Not what she needs right now. “I didn’t say stop, genius.”
Jet puts his fingers back where they belong, raising an eyebrow at her.
“Are we really doing that badly?” Spike asks, with laughter in his voice. He hasn’t stopped, albeit probably because of the fact that he has most of his hand up her cunt, and she’s holding him there with a leg around his neck.
“Nope,” Faye pops the ‘p’. She lies back again, closing her eyes. Sensation is thrumming through her cunt, tensing her thighs and curling in her stomach. She’s not close, not yet, but she could very easily get there.
“Usually, you don’t tell men you’re not attracted to them in the middle of having sex with them,” Spike informs her. His weight shifts, and Faye hears the pump top of the lube bottle—best purchase ever, by the way. “Need some?”
“He’s fine,” Faye waves a hand lazily. She likes the slight bit of friction Jet’s thumb is giving her. It’s a nice little buzz.
“This good?” Spike asks, giving his fingers a twist that makes Faye gasp. “Can I add my pinky?”
“Abso-fuckin-lutely you may,” Faye groans. She squirms as Spike slides his pinky in alongside the rest of his fingers, only his thumb left outside. “Fuck, you’re good.”
“I’ve had practice,” Spike says, smugly, which for some reason makes Jet snort. “What? I have.”
Jet leans down, pressing a kiss to the inside of Faye’s thigh. “Mostly from the other end,” he says, his voice buzzing pleasantly against Faye’s skin.
Spike laughs so broadly that his whole body shifts with it, including his hand in Faye’s cunt. She gasps a little, has to breathe slow and deep for a minute to adjust to the way his muscles flex inside her.
“Don’t tell her all my secrets,” Spike is saying, when Faye’s brain comes back online.
“Seems like it’s a secrets kind of fuck,” Jet says. Faye loves how he says fuck —like it might bite his lips on the way out. “Given that she’s telling us she doesn’t actually like us.”
Faye sits up again—pausing halfway through the motion to whine at how it feels to move when Spike has his hand inside her; she definitely has to get him to do this again sometime—and frowns at Jet. “Of course I like you. I wouldn’t be having sex with you if I didn’t like you.”
Spike’s hand shifts as he turns to look at her, and Faye almost ends up flat on her back again, before Jet presses his free palm between her shoulderblades and holds her up. Nice of him.
“Wait, is that—you don’t have to like someone to have sex with them,” Spike says, sounding utterly confused.
“You don’t have to be attracted to them, either,” Faye posits in return.
“Why bother, then?” Jet asks.
In a blissful moment of complete compatibility, Spike and Faye look at each other, look at Jet, and say “Fun,” in the same well, duh! tone of voice.
Jet rolls his eyes at both of them, and leans down to lick at where Spike’s hand disappears into Faye’s cunt, which is… unreasonably hot. His tongue traces over the heel of Spike’s palm, flicking against her folds.
“I think I get it,” Spike says, leaning over to get more lube. “You wouldn’t have sex with us if you didn’t already like us, but—”
“She didn’t wait to find out if she liked Mel,” Jet cuts in, voice rumbling against her cunt. Faye almost bristles, but it’s hard to bristle at someone who's currently kissing your clit.
“That’s because Mel is a smoking hot chick, and you two are weird dickheaded men who I have unfortunately come to like a lot.”
“I’m touched,” Spike laughs. “Really. Ready?”
It takes Faye’s lust-dizzy brain, already trying it's damndest to keep up with the conversation this close to coming, a long second to figure out what he’s talking about.
“Oh,” she says. “Yes. Please. ”
Jet sits up, replacing his thumb on her clit, moving in lazy, distracting circles as Spike, fingers wet with lube, tucks his thumb into Faye’s cunt.
“Fuck,” Faye spits, squeezing her eyes shut. “Fuck, fucking fuck , Spike—!”
“Yeah?” Spike murmurs. She can hear the smile in his voice. “Good?”
Faye squeezes her leg tighter around his neck, forcing him to bend closer to her shaking thighs. “You know it’s good, shut up, fuck.”
“What a mouth on you,” Spike says, twisting his hand further in. She feels the stretch of his knuckles all the way through her body, from her tensed ankles to her spasming throat.
Jet’s hand slips through her hair, thumb grazing her temple. “Easy, Faye. Breathe.”
Faye almost knees him in the chin, but manages to restrain herself, if only because he’ll probably stop touching her clit if she kicks him. “Breathing just fine, asshole.”
Spike pumps the lube again, smoothing a palmful over the heel of his hand. He pushes in slightly further, and Faye’s steadying breath twists apart again.
“Wait,” she gasps. “Stop, stop moving, I can’t—”
Spike stops. He doesn’t try to ease his hand out, thank fuck. He just drops into that odd stillness of his, some facet of his martial arts training, his eyes dragging over her body, his muscles held taut so as not to jar her.
He’s so damn polite it’s honestly frustrating.
“Just,” Faye pants. “Let me catch my breath.”
Spike stays where he is, perfectly still, but Jet eases back, sitting on his heels. There’s a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead, and his eyes are bright. Faye watches as he palms his dick, grinding the heel of his hand against the base.
“Greedy,” she teases.
“You’re the one playing outside your team for the convenience,” Jet says, raising an eyebrow at her.
Faye scowls. “Will you shut up about that? I wouldn’t have said anything if I knew you were going to get your panties in a twist about it.”
“I’m just curious how you figured it out,” Jet says. “Seems like you’re enjoying yourself just fine.”
Faye lies back on the bed, sighing. She closes her eyes, feeling the stretch of Spike’s hand in her cunt, the curl of arousal in her stomach.
“I guess it just occurred to me,” she murmurs. “Like, with Mel, it was this… flashbang. This huge, warm desire. I wanted her, and I wanted her to want me. With you two it’s more… comfortable. Quiet. Like I know you’re going to be here, so I should enjoy it. I want to enjoy it. Being with you.”
She feels Spike’s weight shift slightly, the tension in his hand as he tries to keep it still. Jet’s laughter rumbles up, low and sweet.
“Look at his face,” Jet chuckles, his hand sliding behind Faye’s head to lift her up.
Faye opens her eyes. Spike hasn’t moved, half-pinned by Faye’s leg, hand disappearing between her thighs, body held stiff in service.
His face is contorted, mouth twisted into a trembling little grimace, eyes squeezed shut.
“Aw,” Jet coos, all teasing and all fondness. “Did she make you feel a feeling, Spike?”
“Shut up,” Spike mutters, and, aww , his voice is definitely cracking. He opens one eye. “Stop staring at me. You’re both the worst.”
Faye cackled, the motion of it sending a harsh shock of sensation through her cunt. She loses the end of the laugh in a groan. “Okay, fuck , that’s enough of a breather. I want to cum.”
Spike, moving stiffly, pumps more lube into his hand and starts to work his hand again, deeper and deeper, making Faye squirm and cry out.
Suddenly, the tension shifts, and Faye knows without seeing that he’s inside her, buried to the wrist in her cunt.
“Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck— ” Faye gasps, her voice rising in pitch when Jet starts to rub at her clit again, dragging his thumb across her folds, slicking his thumb to ease the friction.
She cums with a noise just shy of a whimper, clenching down on Spike’s hand. Her whole body curls into itself, and her vision whites out for a moment.
Before she’s even fully back to herself, Spike leans over her, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. “Breathe,” he tells her.
Faye breathes. Spike’s hand slides out of her, making her tremble through her aftershocks.
Spike kisses her neck again, then the corner of her mouth. He breathes out like he’s going to speak, then withdraws. Faye watches the shape of him through slitted eyes. Sitting up, shoulders moving with easy breaths. Leaning unhurriedly towards Jet. Then he drops forward, disappearing between Jet’s legs.
Faye closes her eyes, listening to the slick sounds of Spike eating Jet out, with his usual extensive enthusiasm when it comes to his partner’s dick.
When she can breathe again, Faye sits up to watch them. Spike’s head is buried between Jet’s thighs, mouth latched onto his dick. Jet has a hand in his hair, holding more so than pulling, his body an arch of sensation, mouth open.
“Spike,” he’s saying, low and terribly sweet, his voice a rumble in the back of his throat. “Spike, Spike, come on, please— ”
Spike does… something. Whatever it is, it makes Jet cum with a shout and curl his fingers in Spike’s hair.
Faye grins as Spike emerges, licking his lips, eyes heavy with desire, hair an utter wreck.
“I’m not kissing you after that,” Faye warns. “Brush your teeth first.”
Spike just blinks at her for a moment, then his face splits in a grin. “Will you suck me off, though?”
Faye beams right back. “Gladly.”
She shoves Spike onto his back, straddling his legs with shaking thighs. Spike’s already wet and hard when she buries her face against him, and her inelegant licks successfully get him off within a minute.
They all lay there for a moment, catching their breath.
“You’re ours,” Spike says. Faye turns her head toward him, and his eyes are piercingly serious.
“Am I?” she asks. Not in offense—in disbelief.
Jet sits up halfway, shifting closer to her and gathering her against his chest. Faye melts against him, tipping her head back into the cushion of his soft chest. “If that’s what you want.”
“You’re part of our crew,” Spike goes on. “However you want us…”
Faye leans up from Jet’s arms and kisses Spike, all tongue and teeth, promises be damned. He tastes of Jet, of the dinner they shared before falling into bed together, of home.
When she retreats, he tries to speak, and she cuts him off, firmly, unswayed. “I want things just how they are.”