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Seymour hears the giggles before he hears the moans, and he hears the moans before he comes around the corner and sees that while he was out, Nikita and Michael found the lever that slides his rotating bed out of the wall under the fireplace.
"Seriously, guys?" he says in disgust. "I know you don't ask before eating my food or drinking my booze or using my computer or spending my money...okay, clearly you're both a little unclear on the concept of asking in general, but who the fuck has sex in someone else's bed without asking?"
Michael sort of squints at him in amusement. "Because asking to have sex in someone else's bed is totally normal." The top couple of buttons on his shirt are unbuttoned, but fortunately the rest of his clothes are still on. Seymour tries not to glance in the direction of his crotch to see exactly how far things had progressed. Oops, too late.
Nikita sprawls on the bed, leaning on her elbows and smiling at him. Her sweater dresses are always kind of slipping off her shoulders, but her hair isn't usually mussed and her lipstick isn't usually smudged half across her face. The general atmosphere of relaxation and Michael not looking all uptight and embarrassed at getting caught suggests that they were probably drinking his booze before he walked in, too. Yep, two empty tumblers on the table, and the expensive stuff moved from where he left it.
They just look so fucking happy. All the time. A little joy bubble of two. Like he isn't even there. This was supposed to be his home, where he built himself a new life.
Seymour's lips tighten. "I invited you into my home, but it's still my home, okay? Not yours."
Nikita laughs and strokes a hand over his Egyptian cotton sheets. Less fancy than satin, but more comfortable and less likely to slide you right off the bed if it was rotating. (Which it isn't, because nobody actually wants to ride the Tilt-a-Whirl while having sex. Or if they do, Seymour doesn't want to know about it.) "Come on, nerd, it's not like you were using it."
"Don't call me that." Which is stupid. Nerds rule. But at the moment, she might as well be giving him a wedgie. She means pathetic loser who can't get laid. "You think I couldn't get laid if I wanted to? I got moves, baby. I was saving that bed for somebody special."
"We're special. Right, Michael?" Sensuality purrs in her voice, rich and light. She can't even help it. Nikita in a good mood flirts like she breathes. He likes that about her, so right now why does it make him feel so resentful? For a second he thinks about telling them to go upstairs, he'll just be here jacking off in his bed.
"Yeah, whatever." Seymour dumps his groceries onto a chair and spins on his heel. "Just put the sheets in the laundry when you're done, okay?"
"Aww," she says in delighted realization. "You feel left out."
He doesn't feel left out. He is left out. "Not really the point."
There's a pause, and then bedsprings creak cheerfully as she flops back on the bed. "Okay, nerd. Come and take your bed for a spin."
She definitely didn't say that.
"Nikita," Michael says in low, warning tones. So maybe she did. Seymour turns around to eye her suspiciously.
She smiles at Michael. Her hair is a totally different black than the sheets and also manages to look softer. Her breasts and hips curve inside the sweater like a promise. "Look me in the eye and tell me you never thought about it."
Seymour blinks.
To his surprise, Michael's mouth curves with the same indulgent resignation he uses for Nikita, it's too risky. "I never thought about it," he says teasingly.
Michael's thought about it? Really? "How much have you guys had to drink?"
"Not very much," Nikita says just as Michael says, "Enough."
"Yeah, thanks but no thanks. I don't really want to deal with his identity crisis in the morning." If there's an awkward morning after, the two of them could just pick up and go. Which he's been telling them to do, so why does the idea freak him out so much?
Michael gives Nikita a Well, we tried face. She glares steelily.
Michael sighs and stands up. "Look, Birkhoff, after all the shit I've had to question about myself in the last year, this is pretty low on the list."
"Oh yeah? Remember when you had to honeytrap that guy in Petersburg, Mikey? I do, because you bitched to me about it for weeks, and I seem to recall you telling me you came this close to shooting him!"
Nikita sits up straight in the bed, but she doesn't say anything.
Michael's lips tighten, and he looks away. "Yeah. I, um...Birkhoff, come on. I'm not going to hurt you."
Seymour knows that. He just doesn't want--"Look. We're friends, right? Sort of. Why risk that just for one threesome?" For all he knows, this thing they've been building is already dead. Now it's out there. Maybe everything will be awkward tomorrow and he'll talk too much and crack too many jokes and Nikita and Michael will be quiet and stare out the window and then in a week or two they'll pack up and leave and everyone will feel very relieved and his house will be quiet again. Only it'll be even quieter than it was before they came, like that guy whose rabbi made him bring his goats and chickens into the house to fuck with him. The room is dead silent already.
Michael glances at Nikita, who gazes steadfastly back. "Why stop at one?" Michael says, low and smiling and rueful. He steps forward into Seymour's line of sight, ducking his head with that You can trust me face that Seymour always thought recruits were idiots for trusting. He knows how many kids got that face right before being canceled. "I'm sorry, Birkhoff. I like to think I've grown as a person since then." He reaches up and puts a hand on the back of Seymour's neck. Shit, the look really is hypnotic. "Will you trust me?"
Seymour's vision is mostly filled with Michael's blue button-down. If he raises his eyes, Michael's mouth is close enough to make out the faint smears of Nikita's lipstick. Seymour's definitely thought about this. Mostly when Michael was in his face being intimidating, which is fucked up, but his brain does a lot for him so Seymour tries to be tolerant of its bullshit. He gives Michael a hard shove. "I don't trust you as far as I can throw you." Michael frowns.
"Well, that's not very far," Nikita says from the bed, sounding miffed.
Seymour grins at her and gives Michael another shove, hard enough that he almost trips back onto the bed, but the asshole's catlike reflexes save him once again. Seymour rolls his eyes. "Just get on the bed." He catches Nikita's sudden, beaming smile out of the corner of his eye and tries to keep a straight face.
Michael doesn't bother trying. He gets on the bed, smirking. Giving him another shove so his back hits the mattress, Seymour crawls on top of him and presses their mouths together.
He doesn't know what he expected, but it wasn't for Michael's mouth to open hungrily under his. It definitely wasn't for Michael to grab his ass and grind up against him with a gasp. Yeah, okay, Seymour thought about it, but he hasn't thought about it all that much. Just a stray spark here and there. It must have been running in the background the whole time, quietly eating CPU, because suddenly this is all he wants in the world. Michael tastes like whiskey and he smells totally different than he did at Division.
No, that's not true, he smells the same, but the effect is totally different when it isn't overlaid with Division's smells of sweat, gunpowder, steel, recycled air, and institutional cleaning products. Seymour's tongue is in Michael's mouth and it finally hits him that this isn't just a long weekend. They're free, they never have to go back to Division. They can have a threesome with the blinds open and goof off all evening and sleep late tomorrow and the phone isn't going to ring with Percy saying, I need you at the office. Now. No one is watching but trees.
He lifts his head to say, "I'll make us French toast tomorrow morning."
Nikita laughs. "You're weird, nerd."
"Considering my income bracket, I think I merit 'eccentric.'" Seymour starts unbuttoning the rest of Michael's shirt, but Nikita flips him onto his back and straddles him in one easy leg-swinging maneuver, smiling. He reaches up to cradle her jaw. Her hair is soft but not quite as silky as he expected. This isn't something he ever thought he'd get to do.
Whatever organ lives just below the bottom of his ribcage twists itself into a knot with how badly he doesn't want her to get hurt.
Leaning down, she drops a kiss on his lips. He can smell the signature perfume Amanda picked for her. "Take off your rings," she murmurs.
Um. Okay. He fumbles them off and drops them onto the floor. Nikita gives him a smug smile and pulls her sweater dress over her head. She's wearing a black bra and panties underneath.
He's seen it before. But context is everything. He couldn't touch it before.
"Go easy on him, Nikita," Michael says, low and amused. "It's his first time."
He tears his eyes away from Nikita to give Michael an incredulous stare. Michael laughs like he just said the funniest thing in the world. Asshole.
Nikita pushes at Seymour's jacket. "Ignore him."
He pulls the jacket off, and then he pulls her against him. Taking her hips in his hands, he presses her firmly against his dick, to make it real and not just kissing. Somewhat to his surprise, she doesn't pull back. She's soft and taut and warm, and her hair falling across his neck tickles but he doesn't care.
He used a fair amount of processing power last year on being ready to hear that she was dead. The news would go out and it would be okay. He'd seen a hundred recruits get cancelled, right? Same old, same old.
He's not ready to hear it now. He's so not ready that he's shaking a little bit. "Nikki--"
She smiles down at him from a foot away. "Mm?"
He lets out a breath. "Nothing."
Reaching around her back, he unhooks her bra, and then her naked breasts are brushing his T-shirt. He can feel her nipples through the cotton. Holy shit. He cups them both in his hands.
She reaches for his belt buckle. "Maybe you should slip into something a little more comfortable." Suddenly Michael is grabbing the hem of his T-shirt and tugging it up, and Nikita's pulling at the ankles of his jeans.
Seymour flails a little before he remembers that okay, he's having sex with these people, it's okay for them to see him naked. Even so, he can't help saying, "I uh, never really took Amanda's advice about manscaping."
Nikita leans down and kisses him, her thumb smoothing teasingly over his tracker scar. "You don't have to be self-conscious, nerd. We're your friends."
"Those two statements have nothing to do with each other," he points out, although that kiss with Michael is still basically branded into his skin. He's pretty sure he doesn't have to be self-conscious.
She laughs, then leans down and whispers, "I think you're hot," in his ear like a secret.
He's not sure if the wave of heat that sweeps over him is lust or a full-body blush. "I, uh, have to go get something."
For a second he doesn't know if she'll let him, but she swings gracefully off him with a sigh. "Nice ass, nerd," she calls after him.
When he comes back, Michael has her flat on her back, dropping a line of kisses along the curve of her breast. He glances up at her coyly with a little flutter of eyelashes after each one. Seymour's first instinct is to politely avert his eyes. You're having a threesome, he reminds himself. You're allowed to watch.
He's never seen Michael actually happy before the last few weeks. Having fun, sure. But happy? Nuh-uh.
He sets his box of toys on the floor with a clatter. Nikita wriggles away from Michael and leans nosily over the edge of the bed, eyes lighting up when the lid comes off. Damn it, this is now one more thing she isn't going to ask him before using.
Okay, maybe not the right moment to set ground rules about proper sex toy cleaning procedures. He pulls out a sleek, curvy little black number and pops in a fresh battery. "Ready for some better living through technology?" He twists the base, and the thing revs up in his hand. He loves that sound.
Michael is frowning. Seymour wonders if he's one of those guys who feels inadequate if his girlfriend wants to use a vibrator.
"Don't think this is going to get you out of fucking me," Nikita warns him, and twists invitingly onto her back.
"You are a woman without mercy," he tells her, smearing lube on the toy. It's a recent purchase, so he's only ever used it on himself. Watching it disappear into Nikki is a revelation. There's a freckle on her hip.
He glances at Michael, expecting him to be watching Nikita. Instead, he's watching Seymour, eyes hard and hot. Seymour falters, and Nikita reaches down to take his wrist. She directs him, shifting on the bed and tilting up her hips. "Ohhh," she breathes. "That's my G-spot, right there."
He can't help smiling. "Good to know." He presses up and down and in. When he kisses her stomach, he can feel the hum resonating in her flesh.
She thrashes restlessly and slides a hand into his hair, curling her fist tight enough to yank painfully at his scalp. But it's like those nerve endings are wired directly to his dick or something, because holy shit. "You, uh, you want my head to go somewhere in particular, or are you just pulling my hair?" He hears Michael snicker.
She laughs and starts to say something, only to sob and spread her legs wide. The vibrator must have done something she liked. He tugs his head gently southward, enjoying the twinges in his scalp, and she loosens her grip enough that he can go down on her.
This is really not how he thought his day would go. And okay, he kind of wishes he'd bought flavored lube now, and he isn't totally used to how lots of girls have started waxing down there since the last time he had much RL sex to speak of and now you get beard burn from vaginas. But Nikita still tastes amazing, and even with the vibrator going he can feel it in her body when she moans.
Michael kisses her, murmuring something he can't make out but that makes her chuckle breathlessly. Seymour smooths a hand over her hip and around to the curve of her ass. He's pretty sure she's close, so he sucks her clit into his mouth and rubs the tip of his tongue right over it a few times.
Going rigid, she ripples under his mouth, her body pulling at the vibrator. Her hand spasms in his hair so tightly he yelps.
She lies there gasping for about five seconds, and then she grabs him and starts manhandling him into position. "Michael, can you grab a condom?"
Michael pulls one out of his pocket and passes it over with a smirk.
"Maybe you should put it on him," Nikita suggests in a wide-eyed ingénue voice. Michael's smirk curves farther up his face as he rips the packet open. Seymour blinks rapidly, trying to process, but there isn't enough RAM in the world for Michael reaching over and giving his dick a few businesslike tugs. The guy still looks smugly delighted, like this is a hilarious practical joke he and Nikita are playing on Seymour. Seymour's dick springs fully erect anyway. Or maybe because?
Michael rolls the condom over his dick. Jesus.
Seymour drags him in for a kiss, and there's that eager heat again. Michael slips him the tongue without hesitation, his fingers digging into Seymour's thigh. Those are strong fingers, Seymour's just saying.
"Michael," Nikita pouts. Michael ignores her, his hand sliding higher. Come on...
Michael makes a small indignant sound as he's yanked backwards. Nikita slides a hand up Seymour's chest. "Come on. Don't be gentle." She rolls onto her side and hooks a leg over his hip, maneuvering him right where she wants him with casual strength.
Okay then. He takes his dick in hand and pokes around a bit until he finds her pussy. Oh wow, hot and wet and he is slipping right inside. He shoves forward, not gentle at all. A burst of pleasure and--"I'm in."
She laughs breathlessly and smacks his arm. "Shut up and fuck me, nerd."
He still can't quite believe this is happening--he's a little overwhelmed by the whole thing, actually. Pressing his forehead against hers, he tries to match her breathing, shallow but rhythmic, hitching like clockwork every time his pelvis hits her clit. She's feeling on the bed for something. "Michael?" she says.
The vibrator starts humming again. His heart skips a beat even before she's pressing it against his hole. "Um, you're going to need more lube than that," he says, but it's only been a minute and it's still wet and slippery from her body, so he doesn't actually stop her when she presses again, lightly. The vibrations feel amazing. He relaxes his muscles, and it only scrapes and catches a little as it goes in. The feel of it buzzing inside him is always somehow sexy and reassuring at the same time. He closes his eyes and kisses her as she pokes around, the tip of the curved toy sliding awkwardly as she strains her arm.
"I can't reach," she says in frustration, letting go of the toy, which promptly starts trying to vibrate its way out. "Michael?" Seymour freezes. But Michael just pulls the toy out and turns it off with a small sound of disgust. Seconds later it hits the floor with a thud. Nikita sighs. Seymour is disappointed but not really surprised that Michael isn't into buttplay, and at least now he can concentrate--
Foil crinkles behind him, and there's a small ripping sound. Seymour swallows hard, hot and cold washing over him like he's got the flu. The sexy, sexy flu. Shit, his brain is completely off its game, what is he even saying, holy god Michael's cock is poking at his asshole. He holds onto Nikita's hip for moral support.
"Brace yourself, Birkhoff," Michael murmurs in his ear, and Seymour suddenly realizes that that's the tone of voice he uses with Nikita, that faux-reluctant fondness. Aimed at him. He braces himself as requested, but Michael feels his way tentatively in, centimeter by jerky centimeter. Has the guy done this before? It doesn't matter, because he did use plenty of lube and Seymour is about to lose his freaking mind.
"Aaaaaagh," he gargle-moans helplessly. His hips twitch, not sure if they want to go forward or back. Jesus, Nikki's pussy is hot. He always forgets that part about sex, how much fucking heat there is. Nikita smiles, amused, and hooks her leg over Michael's hips too. When she squeezes, Michael sinks into Seymour and he sinks into Nikita and it's like the best torture ever. He doesn't even mind when Nikita leverages herself up on an elbow and the two of them start kissing over his shoulder. Let's be real, it's hot.
They're panting in his ear and Nikita is obviously getting into it again, the way she's undulating against him. Seymour curls up between them and squeezes his eyes shut and lets them do their thing. Michael's hand is lying on his hip. Then his fingers tighten, and he starts pulling Seymour back in time with his thrusts. Nikita and Michael break apart, Nikita thumping down in front of him again. Michael's mouth lands on the back of his neck, sloppy and hot, and he just about jumps out of his skin. Yeah, he is this close to an out-of-body experience. This close to coming, too.
"Harder," he gets out, and Michael grunts and obliges, his thrusts pushing Seymour deeper into Nikita. He is completely surrounded, the world as small and hot and dark as a sauna but way more fun. He slips a hand between himself and Nikki to thumb her nipple, and she draws in a sharp breath and puts her hand down to finger herself.
Her knuckles against the soft skin of his belly do things to him that you wouldn't believe. "I'm close," he warns her.
She draws her head back. "Look at me."
He opens his eyes. Hers are glazed but serious. "I absolutely forbid you to come before I do."
It pushes him over the edge. "Contrary to the last," Michael says behind him, and he and Nikita both snicker. But there is no way Seymour's going to be able to think of a comeback anytime in the next decade. Hell, he might not even live through the next minute. Every time he thinks his orgasm is over Michael's dick slides over his prostate or Nikita moves against him and nope, he's got something left after all.
Nikki tries to keep it going but he's softening already, slipping out of her. She gives him a lingering kiss, her fingers brushing his cheek and incidentally smelling like her pussy. Then she rolls away and leans over the side of the bed.
Michael pauses. "Nikita?"
She looks back with a flip of her hair, smiling. "Keep going. I like watching you guys." Seymour can hear her knocking his toys around looking for something. Michael shifts a little. Seymour winces, a little over-sensitized but not really minding.
Michael brushes his hair aside and presses his lips to Seymour's nape, thumb bumping over his vertebrae, because sometimes he is a walking, talking Lifetime movie love interest. Not that Seymour's complaining about having all this romance suddenly pointed in his direction. From below the edge of the bed, Nikita coos appreciatively at something.
"I have thought about it," Michael says, quiet and gravelly in his ear.
It's basically a golden opportunity to point out that Seymour is a sex god, but he reins it in with an effort. "Yeah, so have I. You can rock a suit, dude."
"So have I." Nikita surfaces with a huge purple dildo, grinning. "So come on, give me a show."