Neither of them was in the mood to be social yet neither wanted to drink alone for various reasons. So, they'd stopped at a local bar close to his garage for a few drinks. The bar hadn't suited their needs at all. It was a neighborhood bar, a place many went after work like the two of them, but neither of them felt like sitting in a bar full of people. Especially because as pissed off as they were both feeling the offered companionship that came with drinking at bars would be a little too tempting for both of them.

Dawson had no reason not to be tempted, but giving into that temptation would leave John alone. John didn't want to give into the temptation Dawson knew. Dawson didn't either actually despite for whatever reason all of the sudden feeling very in the mood for companionship. Odd for him because lately since he had no woman around to settle those moods they just never struck him. He had no idea how John felt about his girlfriend, but it was one of the reasons he'd agreed to drinks with him. He didn't get the impression he was the type of guy to come here and pick up a random chick as payback for being mad at Claire. Dawson wouldn't care normally, except he saw Claire more than occasionally when she came to the garage to see John. She even brought Dawson lunch or dinner from time to time. Dawson suspected if John did something wrong tonight he'd hate himself for it in the morning, too, because unlike some guys John wasn't a cheater.

So, they'd left, deciding to split the cost of a case of beer. Dawson had no idea what was eating at John exactly. His employee didn't talk much about himself. He knew it had something to do with his girlfriend and plans she had with her family that he was, Dawson guessed, not included in. Dawson's mood was just foul. He didn't need a reason. Perhaps it was because he hadn't gotten laid in so very long and having John and Claire around was just a way of rubbing it in his face because he knew they were getting laid frequently. He'd caught them more than once in a car at the garage. The first time he'd rapped on the window, scaring the shit out of both of them. That had been before they were living together. He'd embarrassed them, too, no doubt. He hadn't bothered interrupting them after the first time. It wasn't as if he'd never done it himself. He hadn't caught them many times now that they were living together and sharing a bed every night. Dawson was one of a few who knew they were cohabitating. Evidently that wouldn't go over well with her family.

John held the case of beer while Dawson unlocked his front door and opened it. He let John pass through before going in himself. He didn't bring people back here often. He brought the occasional woman back once in a while, so he was always mindful of that possibility and kept his place clean. Plus, he didn't have a maid so any messes he made he had to clean himself.

Dawson reached to shut the door behind him after taking his coat off about the same time John did from setting the case of beer down. Their hands met at the door knob and Dawson felt the oddest jolt of … something course through him. Arousal wasn't exactly right because he hadn't been turned on five minutes ago driving with him. Not to mention there was absolutely no question in Dawson's mind that he was very interested in women. He'd never gotten turned on touching a guy before ever in his life. For whatever reason right now he was very turned on and touching him made him want more.

"I, uh, sorry," John said.

John didn't let go of the door knob and Dawson wasn't as quick to pull his hand away from John's as he should've been. John didn't seem to be making any effort draw his away from underneath his. Instead he pressed it into the palm of Dawson's hand. Dawson knew what his hands felt like. Hard and calloused from many years working on cars. He'd been working on them long before he knew how to drive. He got the feeling John was the same way. It was the only reason he'd hired him, the guy knew his way around cars.

What the hell are you doing, Dawson? His brain was screaming at him as he slid his thumb along a cut on the side of John's hand.

"You really got yourself good."

"Yeah," John said simply.

John let go of the door knob, sort of. His palm was still resting against it but his fingers were spread out above and around it. They both hissed as Dawson touched him, sliding his fingers in between John's there. The stirring in his jeans told him he was enjoying this bit of touching far more than he should've been.

Christ.

He should stop, put the case of beer in the fridge and continue with their plan of getting good and drunk. The few drinks they'd had at the bar hadn't even gotten him close to as drunk as he'd planned on getting tonight. He had nothing better to do with his night and John had seemed to think Claire wouldn't be getting back to their apartment until very late.

He didn't stop, though and John finally turned his hand around, so their palms met. Dawson gave a soft groan at the contact, John did, too. So evidently whatever the fuck was wrong with him was wrong with John, too. He wasn't into touching. He wasn't a soft or gentle guy. He wasn't really very nice either. To say people were surprised he ever get laid was an understatement. He honestly couldn't say how it'd happened either most of the time. Dumb luck. He wasn't exactly a master conversation starter either.

"I, we," he said. One of them had to be the voice of reason here. Stopping this. Dawson wasn't sure he wanted to stop it, though, so he was giving John the chance.

"Yeah," John said, but neither seemed able or willing to pull their hands away from the other. The cut he'd noticed a minute ago was worse from this side. Dawson slid a finger along the edge of it before sliding his fingertip along John's palm. Fuck. What in the hell was wrong with him?

John shuddered a bit, shaking his head enough so his hair at his shoulders moved. Dawson's wasn't long enough to be worn tied back. John's was and he usually did at work. He'd kept it down after cleaning up after they were done tonight, though.

Dawson couldn't help but notice the smell of him. The underlying scent of things from the garage still there, though probably only people who worked like they did would notice. They had a shower at the garage that they both used after they were done. Some days they didn't need to clean up, other days they were so filthy that it couldn't be avoided. Neither of them had specific brands they used or cared about so typically they used the same soap and shampoo until it was gone and then whoever's turn it was bought the next supply.

So, it was different standing this close to someone, smelling the scents that he was familiar with on him. Clean, but something definitely male and different than what he was accustomed to when standing this close to a woman. No girlie shampoos, soaps, perfumes, or deodorants.

He turned his head a little toward John's neck, the scent of the soap and shampoo stronger when he did that, mingling together where his hair met his neck. Scent was always a huge thing for him. Dawson reached in then, as if he had no control over what he was doing. An appropriate thought because he didn't feel as if he was in control at all, though he knew full well what he was doing as he did it. His lips met John's neck and both men made a noise of surprise. Dawson had no idea where the desire to do this was coming from but for the here and now he needed it very badly.

He turned in a little more, lips sliding along his neck to his throat and the pulse point there, which was pumping rapidly. Nerves or excitement, Dawson couldn't be sure but guessed there was probably both there as there was for him.

Evidently John wanted it badly at the moment, too, because he was kissing him now. Dawson wasn't sure how it happened, who kissed who first and it didn't really matter. This was the most bizarre situation he'd ever found himself in and yet he was unable to stop. It was need, base and raw desire for relief and gratification coming through on both their parts. The kiss was just one way for them to try and achieve that relief. He felt his body react the longer they kissed, both groaning softly as their tongues met for the first time. They both pulled away from that contact for a second or two, but that unspoken need for distance didn't last long.

It didn't give either of them the relief they sought, though. That much became clear as both made sounds of frustration that all that was happening was they were getting no satisfaction and more turned on. Dawson pressed himself into John hard not at all worried about being coy or nice about what he was seeking as he might have been with a woman.

They stood like that for a while, kissing hungrily and rubbing themselves against the front of the other one's jeans. Perhaps John was hoping doing that would be enough to alleviate the problem they were both experiencing. It wasn't, though, at least not for Dawson. He was just getting harder and more frustrated that his need for release wasn't being taken care of.

Hands worked at unbuttoning one another's jeans, pushing them down far enough so that they could touch one another with barriers or obstacles out of the way. What a strangely different feeling than the hands he was used to touching him there. John had to be thinking the same thing because his girlfriend was as feminine as they came. She had no clue what hard work was.

Both groaned into their mouths as their hands touched the other's cock for the first time. It had taken them both a bit to get bold enough to get there. Wanting to didn't seem to be an issue for either of them, but like Dawson John had to be wondering where in the fuck this need was coming from. He was just glad as John slid fingertips along the length of his cock that John was feeling whatever Dawson was.

He'd stopped being able to cum from hand jobs ages ago. He couldn't remember the last time. High school maybe. It just got to the point where unless they really knew what they were doing he just couldn't finish that way. Rarely being with the same woman more than a handful of times probably didn't help either.

This was drastically different, though. Never mind he was excited beyond what was normal for him. There was something to be said, too maybe for John touching him that way, someone who obviously knew how a guy liked to be touched. He knew he was doing exactly to John what he'd want done to himself and John was doing a damned fine job of touching him the way he liked.

There was no uncertainty tonight, no hesitation in what they could or couldn't get away with doing. No fear that they'd hurt one another or grip too tightly. There really wasn't such a thing unless the goal was to cut off the blood circulating to his cock by practically choking it. That would be too tight. Anything else was welcome. A variation of a tight grip to a loose one and everything in between was outstanding.

He reached lower, fingers sliding along the curve of John's sac before cupping him there. John evidently liked that, too. Women always seemed to ignore that part of him.

He reached up for the length of John's cock again, stroking him and running a finger along the head. Their fists met as they were both being attentive to the head and tip of one another's shaft. They both gave a startled groan at the incidental contact. Neither drew their fist away or stopped what they were doing.

Then it wasn't so incidental as they both seemed to get the idea around the same time of wondering what it would be like to have the tips of their hard-ons touch. He'd felt the head of his own cock hundreds of times in his lifetime, but hadn't anyone else's ever. He was sort of surprised while the shape and length were different John's felt essentially the same. Smooth in the same spots, seemingly sensitive in most of the same parts, too.

They switched then, Dawson took over touching himself and John did the same, but neither let themselves stray too far from touching one another like that. As much as he hated to admit it it was arousing as hell to feel him pressed against him like that. Both their cocks and their fists were damp from their precum. By touching one another this way they were sharing the natural lubricant to make stroking themselves smoother, better.

He drew away then, breaking the kiss more than a little surprised they'd continued kissing as long as they had. They were both close, it was obvious by his breathing as well as John's. They both seemed content to stand there, stroking themselves with just that little bit of each other touching the other.

His eyes fell closed as soon as he felt himself coming. John didn't pull away and neither did he. Both gave up the attempt at being quiet, squelching the sounds of excitement they were unable to contain anymore. He couldn't remember finishing so hard in a long time as he did in that moment, knowing he was going to be as messy as John was from coming on one another like that. Both had evidently had the same idea, finishing on the other one's fist and the bit of cock exposed underneath their fist. Obviously some of their own cum got on themselves, unavoidable since for him at least it was instinctive to run his thumb along the opening there at some point while he was finishing.

Neither stopped stroking right away. They didn't stop touching like they were right away either. He'd never done anything with his cum before, usually finishing when he gave himself a hand job and cleaning up right away. So, to have the evidence on him, under his hand, and making his shaft real slick was kind of a turn on all over again.

Neither drew away. Neither said anything either. What was there to say? Dawson wasn't close to being done yet, though.

He knelt on the floor then, sliding his hand over John's cock when he stopped stroking himself for whatever reason. He watched, rather fascinated, at this vantage point of a hand job. He didn't stop there, he couldn't have right now even if he'd wanted to. He slid his mouth over the head of John's cock hesitantly at first. He licked the tip, groaning softly at the taste and feel of him. He'd tasted his own cum a time or two. Kissing a girl after she'd swallowed and also just morbid curiosity when he was a teenager as to what it tasted like. He'd never tasted it like this, though, on another guy's cock mixed in with his own. He discovered first hand it didn't all taste the same.

John cried out, but he didn't pull away or tell Dawson to stop. He kept going then, using his mouth to lick and suck along John's now softened cock. John returned the favor with Dawson on the floor now and John sliding himself on top of him with his mouth between his Dawson's legs. Neither were ready to go again, but for whatever reason neither seemed to care about anything but licking and sucking on the other man's cock. It didn't take long for either of them to be ready again. Who started getting hard first, Dawson couldn't say but it seemed when one felt the other starting to harden the other one was right behind so suddenly both of their mouths were full of a very erect cock. Being on top, John shifted a little, almost thrusting his cock in and out of Dawson's mouth. Dawson's hand was stroking along the shaft, grateful John seemed to know how deep he was able to go. His tongue was mirroring John's, licking and sucking almost identically. It was one of the most arousing things he'd ever experienced, having done to him what he was doing.

Once hard again the almost casual licking and sucking they'd both been doing was replaced with more urgency. They both wanted the other one to finish again. There was no question about that at least to Dawson and the way John was licking and sucking on his cock he didn't think there was with him either.

John came first, Dawson wasn't far behind. Both swallowed the other's cum willingly. John stilled almost immediately, sliding off of Dawson so he was laying on the floor on his back. Neither said anything for quite some time. What the fuck was there to say? Never mind the guy he'd just done this shit with was his employee.

"Fuck," John finally said.

That about summed up what Dawson was feeling so he didn't say anything.

"I've never…"

"Me neither," Dawson added quickly. "Never had any desire."

"Right? What the fuck was that?"

"No idea," he said, laughing at the ridiculousness of the conversation. As if it mattered. They'd done it. Hand jobs could probably be explained away as something casual. Mutual blow jobs wasn't, at least not in Dawson's book. That was about a deliberate of an act on both their parts as they could get. He'd had to know what it tasted like, though.

"Claire is fucking going to kill me."

That was what was on his mind now? Dawson supposed that was logical. A guy or not and planned or not, his cock had just been in someone else's hand and mouth.

"You don't have to tell her."

"Well, of course I do."

And there was the difference between them, Dawson was pretty damned positive he'd never tell anyone this had happened. He was pretty sure he'd rather his girlfriend think he'd been with another woman. Then Dawson didn't love anyone either. Another pretty big difference between the two of them. Dawson had no emotions at play.

"Even if it means she'd break up with you? It's not like it's going to happen again. Or I'm another chick."

"Yeah, well, no, we've gone through too much to start lying or not telling her shit now."

"You're nuts, man. Better just to go home and tell her we drank beer and bitched about our miserable lives all night."

John scoffed at that.

"I want to marry her one day. You know? If she was just a random girlfriend I wouldn't care."

"Wanting to marry her, yeah. You tell her she's going to think you're…"

"I'm not gay!"

"Oh, I don't doubt that at all. She might start to, though, if you tell her."

"Fuck," John muttered under his breath.

He didn't move from his spot though, neither did Dawson. Neither made any effort to touch the other one again either. He wouldn't tell her if it was him, but maybe that meant John was a better person than he was. He wasn't sure. Was it cheating? Dawson always associated cheating with a more emotional entanglement than any physical act. Then what did he know?

John stood after a while, pulling up and fastening his jeans.

"If I get home before she does and fall asleep I can at least put it off until tomorrow."

"You okay to drive, man?"

John scoffed at that. "Uh yeah," he said.

"All right," Dawson said. He sat up, but didn't bother doing more than moving to his couch. He did pull up his jeans, but he didn't bother fastening them. He still had a case of beer he had every intention of putting a dent into.

John left then. There wasn't much to say under the circumstances. Dawson wasn't expecting a good bye. John hadn't asked if he still had a job on Monday. Dawson could be an asshole but even he wasn't that much of an asshole. Whatever just happened wasn't John's fault.

He glanced at his hands for a minute. They didn't look any different. Nope. Looked the same. So there was no evidence, no proof he'd done something so utterly out of character. It wasn't bad enough he'd touched the other guy, but some bizarre need to see, to find out led to him using his mouth on him, too. Thinking on it now, he was incredibly glad John had reciprocated on that bit of it or he wasn't entirely sure John would have a job on Monday.

"Moron," he thought as he got up to get a beer, thinking of John telling his girlfriend that would probably freak her out and then some. Girls like her, good suburban girls who hadn't ever kissed anyone but John didn't want to hear about their boyfriends giving or getting hand jobs and blow jobs from another guy.

John woke the next morning, dreading it with a fiery passion. Dawson was right. It wasn't as if it was ever going to happen again. He still had no idea what had happened exactly. He didn't think he was that drunk, but then they'd both ordered mixed drinks. Who knew how much the bartender had put in them?

He got out of bed then, going to their living room. It was quiet out here. He could turn the TV on, but he was trying to come up with what to tell her. He'd tried last night, too, and only ended up with a headache.

Over a year it took them to get to the point of even dating. A year of his life, pursuing her like he'd never before gone after anything in his life. She hadn't believed him at first that he was truly interested. She'd made him work for it, for her. She was worth every fucking minute of effort he'd put into getting her to finally go out with him. Over a year later and they were living together. She was going to school and it was off-campus housing that her dad didn't know she was sharing with John, but it was still an apartment they shared.

She was so going to make him sleep on the couch for weeks and he couldn't blame her. He had absolutely no fucking excuse. Being drunk wouldn't have excused him if it'd been a woman he fucked.

He groaned at that thought, very grateful neither of them had seemed even remotely interested in that happening between them. He could still feel Dawson's cock harden in his mouth, though, how fascinated he'd been by that happening because he'd wondered many times how it felt to Claire.

Thinking about that was not helping his situation. Neither was the hard on he was getting as a result.

Fuck.

What the fuck did that even mean? He could say with one hundred percent accuracy he'd never looked at or thought of a guy like that before. He couldn't deny it didn't feel good, though. Very good. The fact he'd cum twice in such a short time span was proof of that.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," he said.

"Everything okay?"

"Are you on your way out?"

"No," she said with a frown. "I just woke up."

"I know that. I just wasn't sure what you had planned. More stuff with your parents or what."

"Oh, no. I'm all yours for today."

For a little while longer anyway. He had no doubt she wouldn't be saying that again when he finished telling her.

She sat next to him on the couch and evidently noticed his hardened state. She touched him and he took her hand away for the first time ever. She'd made him work for that, too, a physical relationship. He couldn't remember the last time he'd left a date with a girl with a case of blue balls before dating her. It wasn't until he'd agreed to move in with her the end of her freshman year that they'd actually had sex.

"John? What's wrong?"

Fuck.

Of course she'd ask him that because he'd never pushed her away before. Never. He wanted her all of the time. It was the reason he felt he wanted to marry her one day.

"I, sort of did something stupid last night."

"Okay."

"I was so pissed off," he murmured.

"I know," she said.

He sighed.

"No, I don't think you do. I'm never going to be good enough to your dad. I have to hide the fact I'm living here. I hate it. And then you go to this fundraiser thing and I'm not on the invite list."

He'd agreed to it, living here under the radar but the longer they went on living like this the more it bothered him. Then the party she went to last night, which hadn't included him as part of the invitation had pissed him off beyond belief. Never mind her parents didn't know they were living together, they knew John was her boyfriend and had deliberately excluded him.

"I get it. I'm sorry. I told you I'd stay home."

"And piss off your dad even more?"

He sighed. There was no winning that one.

"Dawson and I went out after work. He was in a bad mood, too."

"When is he in a good mood?"

"Well, true," John said. He sighed, trying not to love the feel of her hand running along his thigh. She couldn't stop touching him, and he loved that about her. He wanted her to touch him every day for the rest of their lives.

"We got kind of drunk."

"Okay."

"We, uh did stuff."

"I'm sorry?" she asked.

"We went back to his place. We stopped to buy a case of beer because the bar wasn't where we wanted to be. I don't even know how the fuck it happened. One minute we were intent on splitting a case of beer and the next minute."

"The next minute?"

"We were touching."

"Touching?"

"Yeah, you know, hands."

"Okay," she said cautiously.

"I don't even know how the fuck to explain this without you hating me. Believe me I've done enough hating of myself since I left his house last night."

"So you touched hands? John. That's not a big deal."

"Yeah, well, the touching of hands led to kissing."

She sucked in a breath, but she didn't move her hand from his leg.

"Not the kind I do with you either. I mean, you know, not nice kissing. It was just," he shrugged. "I don't know how to explain it. Fuck."

"So you were kissing him?"

"Yes. I mean, he was kissing me back. It wasn't just me." Why had he felt the need to clarify it? To make it any less his fault? He was the one in a relationship. He should've stopped it.

"Tongues?"

"What?" he asked.

"Did you use your tongues?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Really?"

"Yes. Really. I mean, again not like when I kiss you. You know. I mean, it wasn't nearly the same."

"That's good to know."

She was not reacting at all as he thought she'd react to this. He thought for sure at the word kissing involving anyone not her she'd be freaking out.

"So, you kissed him. You were drunk," she shrugged. "It happens. I mean, you're both attractive men."

"You think he's attractive?"

"Well," she said softly. "Yes. I mean, he is."

"Huh," he said, glancing at her then for a minute.

"I'm not mad at you, John. I'm glad you told me and everything."

"There's more," he said under his breath.

Her hand stilled against his thigh and he groaned a bit at that. She had to know what was coming after kissing.

"The kissing led to touching. Like mutually touching, each other. I touched him and he touched me."

"Touching each other?"

"Yeah," he shrugged, glancing at her hand as she pulled it from his leg completely. "You know, touching each other."

"You mean…"

"Dawson thought I shouldn't tell you, but that would eat at me if I didn't."

"You gave a hand job to another guy, that's what you're saying right? And you think I'm going to what?"

"I don't know! I've never done anything like that before. Appreciate I was honest? Tell me I can't go out drinking with him again. Not that it'll happen again. It was the oddest thing," he shrugged, not able to put it into words. He was in control, he knew what he was doing, but fuck if the desire he'd felt hadn't come out of absolutely nowhere.

"Get out."

"What?" he asked, certain he'd heard wrong. He hadn't even told her all of it!

"Get out."

"Claire. Come on. Clearly if I had something to hide…"

"Get out. Leave your keys on the counter and get out."

What was there to say? Ultimately, not another woman or not he'd cheated. He couldn't blame her, he guessed. He certainly wouldn't have told her to get out if she'd just made this same confession to him. He supposed it was different, though. Why he wasn't sure, but he never heard women talk about getting turned on by the idea of seeing two guys do one another. Men talked all the time about their ideal fantasy being two women.

"Claire."

"You can come get your stuff tomorrow."

"Jesus. You're not serious. It was a hand job. He didn't even finish me off!" Okay, that was perhaps fudging the truth a bit.

"That doesn't matter," she said.

He supposed it didn't. He figured she would be mad at him, not talk to him for a while or whatever, but he hadn't thought she'd tell him to leave. He wasn't on the lease or anything so she certainly could do it. Fuck. He was going to see Dawson Monday and his boss was going to in no uncertain terms tell him he told him so.

"Fine," he said, standing then. He slid the keys to the apartment off his key ring and set them on the counter. He went to their room to grab a bag and some clothes. God, he hoped she'd change her mind, realize he was trying to do the right thing here, and let him come back. He had to assume that wasn't going to happen in the next few hours, though, so that meant he'd need clothes to get him through until she did come around. If she came around. No telling with her. She could be pretty damned stubborn and strong-willed when she wanted to be.

He paused at the door to the apartment. She hadn't moved from her spot on the couch. She was crying he knew, though she was trying not to let him see it. "So, you'd rather I didn't tell you? Is that right? You'd rather I hide something from you?"

"No," she said, sniffling and wiping her eyes with her fingertips. "I'd rather you not have done it at all, John."

"I was drunk."

"That's no excuse."

"No, I mean, I know it's not, but there was something weird about it…"

"I don't care! I'm not risking pissing off my parents, having my father disown me by finding out you're living here for you to fool around with someone else."

"I know!"

"Obviously you don't so get out."

He sighed. At least she was crying, not that he wanted to see her cry but at least he knew she didn't like doing this.

He had no idea where to go once he was in his car. There weren't many options. His parents' house? Yeah, not happening. He didn't really have any friends he could mooch a space on their couch off of for the night. He glanced at his keys and sighed heavily, knowing one place he could go. At least he'd be at work on time Monday.

He wasn't surprised he supposed when he got there and Dawson was there. There were times John didn't think Dawson did anything but work, not even eat or sleep.

"You really told her?" Dawson said.

"I'm not talking to you about this," John said.

"Suit yourself. I told you it was going to be a mistake."

"Yes, you in all your relationship experience and wisdom."

"I know women! Women don't want to hear about what their guy does when he's out drinking with other guys."

"You have an explanation?"

"Nope," Dawson said with a shrug. "The only thing I can come up with is the bartender slipping something into our drinks not realizing we would leave so soon."

John hadn't even thought of that. If that was what happened he was grateful as hell they'd left when they did then. He thought eventually she'd forgive him for this, maybe. She'd never, ever in a million years ever speak to him again if he'd been with another woman in any way shape or form. Nope. He knew that. He'd known that from the get-go and he'd stayed faithful.

"Pruitt's bringing in some work if you want to burn off that energy."

"Sure," John said, going to the back room where there was a cot to set his bag in there. Dawson hadn't questioned him coming here with a bag so he was going to assume his boss didn't have a problem with him sleeping here. He knew full well John had nowhere to go. Under ordinary circumstances his boss maybe would invite him to use the spare room at his place, but both of them knew that was the last thing they needed to be doing.

Dawson didn't say anything else and that was just as well as far as John was concerned. He didn't want to talk to the guy right now. He didn't even really want to look at him, truth be told, but he didn't have a whole lot of choices. He didn't have unlimited wads of cash at his disposal to where a hotel was an option for him so he had to deal with his boss tonight when he was the last guy he wanted to see right now. (And fuck if he didn't wonder if Claire wouldn't get even madder at him knowing he was here with Dawson tonight.)

"You and Claire have a spat?" Pruitt asked Monday morning. Apparently, he hadn't thought about John being there working with Dawson Saturday night. He saw this morning, though, the cot had been used.

"You can say that," John said.

"I hope you work it out. And whatever you did, say you're sorry."

John scoffed at that. First for the wrecker driver assuming it was John who'd done the bad thing. Of course, it was so he couldn't snap at the guy for speaking the truth. Second, for assuming John hadn't apologized. He never saw himself as the type of guy to get on his hands and knees and beg a woman to forgive him, but Claire would be worth the humiliation of going through that for.

"Thanks," he said simply.

John wasn't sure Pruitt was a guy to take advice from either considering his wife was actively banging other men.

She showed up after lunch, surprising the fuck out of him except she had classes until one o'clock. Dawson seemed somewhat surprised, too. He seemed a bit nervous about Claire's reason for being there until she'd approached John and hadn't more than glanced in his direction. She did look at him differently than she had other times she'd been there. John hadn't realized she noticed his boss enough to think he was a good looking guy. She looked at him that way today, though, and John couldn't deny that bothered him a little bit. He didn't like her noticing other guys were good looking.

"Why are you so touchy?" John heard Pruitt ask Dawson as he and Claire went back to the room he'd slept in the last couple of nights. It was the only place they'd get real privacy around here. The room he ate in didn't offer any really even with the door shut. Fuck was she a sight for sore eyes. How did that even happen? Two days of not seeing her and he missed her.

He had no idea what she wanted, why she was here so he, wisely, remained quiet waiting for her to start the conversation. He wasn't going to start it and say something wrong. She looked around the room before sitting on the edge of the cot. Looking for evidence he'd actually been sleeping here and not somewhere else? She had to know he had nowhere else to go, then he supposed if he really wanted to be an asshole and lose her for good he could've found another bed to sleep in easily enough. She'd know that, too.

She cleared her throat then, running her hand along the pillow he'd been using.

"How did it feel?"

"How did what feel?" What the fuck kind of question was that?

"You know? How did it feel?"

"Different. I mean, it wasn't your hand."

"Okay. Forget it not being my hand…"

"It," he shrugged. "I'm sorry. Why are you asking me this? And why should I answer it?"

"I'm not sure you're in a position to be picky, John."

She had a point. He sighed, glancing at the floor near his feet.

"It felt good," he murmured. He shrugged, unsure how to describe it exactly. "It was like he knew exactly what I'd like and he did it."

"And you?"

"The same I guess. I just touched him how I liked to get touched, gripped him how I liked to get gripped."

"You came?" she asked, reaching to touch his leg. The room wasn't that big so she didn't have to reach far. Plus, he'd stood pretty close to her not sure if she wanted him to sit next to her or what.

"Fuck, yes," he said, more than a little ashamed that came out as enthusiastically as it had and the fact he was hard now when hadn't been about even five minutes ago when she walked in here. Her hand, too, was creeping ever higher. What the fuck was that about?

"Hard?"

"Yes," he whispered as he she slid her hand to the crotch of his pants.

"All over his hand?"

"Well, kind of," he said. "We, uh, sort of switched when we got to the point we were about to. We were touching though. Our," he cleared his throat. "My hand was on me, his was on him but our dicks were touching."

"While you came?"

"Fuck, Claire," he said. "What is with these questions?"

"Just asking."

"Yes, while we came. So I guess I came on his hand, but mine too, and same for him."

"And you told me despite knowing I'd get mad?" she asked, sliding her hand to his to tug him toward the cot. He sat next to her then.

"Well, yeah. Pretty much. It seemed like the right thing to do," he said, more than surprised when she reached into his pants to slide his hard cock out of them so she could slide herself over him. "This was not at all the reaction I was expecting out of you today after Saturday morning's." Was she done being mad at him? Or was this something else at work here? He had no fucking clue.

"Did you like it?"

"What?"

"Touching him? Coming with him?"

"Uh, yeah, it was all right. I mean I wasn't doing it because I liked it. I still don't know what the fuck either of us were doing."

"So you had his cum on you, right?"

"Yeah," he hissed as she took him real, real deep inside of her.

"And you were stroking yourself with it on you?"

"Yes," he said. He regarded her a bit. "Why is this turning you on and not pissing you off anymore?"

"I don't know," she admitted.

"You don't know?"

"No, it just does. The image of you and him, both pretty manly men," she shrugged. "Both very nice looking manly men doing that to and for one another. I know you don't like men."

"Yeah?"

"Uh huh."

"We, uh, sucked one another off, too."

"Fuck," she hissed, clenching around him tightly at that.

"Yeah?" he asked. He'd expected her to be grossed out or something, he wasn't sure. He had to lay it all on the table, though. He wasn't going to have it come out a month or six months from now that he hadn't told her the whole story.

"Yes."

"Hm," he said.

"I think I would have enjoyed watching that."

"Watching?"

"Yes."

"Really? Me and him?"

"Yes."

"We didn't. I mean, I didn't fuck him or anything."

"That is very good to know."

"I see. He can give me a hand job and a blow job, that turns you on, but fucking him?"

She shrugged. "It'd be different."

"I guess," he said.

"How drunk were you?"

"I don't know. I had a few drinks."

"And him?"

"About the same. We were keeping pace with each other pretty well."

"Would you have liked me watching you?"

What the fuck kind of question was that? His instinct was to say no, but as he came about two seconds after she asked the question obviously his brain knew more than his instincts did.

"I guess so," she said with a soft laugh.

"You want to, uh, watch me do that?"

She shrugged, settling against him. She hadn't moved from his lap so he was still snuggly inside of her for now.

"I think I'd love watching you do that."

"Yeah?"

"I might even help him."

"Help him do what?"

"Suck on you?"

"Jesus. Really?"

She shrugged. "Is that bad?"

"Uh, no," he said. Not bad at all. Holy shit. "Really?"

"Only one way to find out."

"Claire," he said. "Are you asking me to ask him to…"

"Come home with us?"

"Our apartment?"

"Why not? It's not like it's our permanent house."

"I do have to work with him, you realize this?"

"You've been here long enough you could move on to another garage if you had to. And what's he going to do? Give you a bad reference because it got weird between you two after you gave one another blow jobs."

"I suppose. I just…"

"What?"

"I really thought you were going to be pissed for a while longer. I didn't expect you to tell me to leave, I figured the couch or something. Coming here today, though. This…"

"Another woman you'd be gone."

"No other woman interests me."

"That's why you're not gone."

"I don't get it. It's still…"

"Cheating?" She shrugged. "Is it? You were mad. You were drunk. He was mad and drunk. I don't think you were doing anything to spite me or because I'm not doing something for you."

"No, you do things for me very well."

"Tell him."

"I have no idea how that conversation is going to go."

"I could tell him…"

"This is the most bizarre conversation I've ever had in my life."

"Is it?"

"It's at least up there, yes."

"Would you rather I stay mad and break up with you?"

"Well, no, of course not, I just wasn't expecting you to get turned on by the thought of me with another man."

"I wasn't either. It never occurred to me. Obviously, Saturday morning I was very mad, but then I thought about it and I realized," she shrugged. "I kind of liked the thought of it, without you being mad at me as a reason behind it."

"I have no idea he'll agree to it, you realize that, right?"

"I know."

What was the worst thing that could happen? He got a blow job out of the deal by two people at the same time? Not a bad deal as far as he was concerned.

"I'll ask. I'm not sure I want you asking him that," John said.

She laughed softly at that.

"Yeah, I know, you're talking about sucking me off at the same time, but that's not you inviting him to do that."

She slid off of his lap and he groaned softly.

"I'm going home now. If he comes home with you I guess I'll have my answer."

"You want us to do this tonight?"

"You want to wait?"

"Well, I don't know, a day we don't have to work the next day and you don't have school might be better."

She shrugged, apparently not having thought on that part of it.

"Fine," she said.

He also, in the back of his head, thought a few days might not be a bad idea for her to really think this through. He wasn't sure there was a reset button for what she was talking about. It happened it was there between them for the rest of their lives.

"Does that mean I can come home tonight?"

"Yes," she said.

"Thank God," he said, fixing himself before fastening his pants.

"You tasted him?"

"Yes," he said. That shouldn't completely surprise her. He'd never shied away from kissing her after she'd given him head. He'd even gone down on her a time or two after he'd finished inside of her. He'd also helped her lick her fingers clean a time or two when he'd finished on her stomach and she'd slid her fingers through it. He sort of figured all was fair and if he expected her to taste it he shouldn't have some sort of an aversion to it himself.

He walked her to her car, kissing her before she got in.

"In case I didn't say it exactly. These have been the worst two nights since I was living with my parents."

"I know," she said.

"I am …"

"Don't. Don't apologize. Jesus. I just had sex with you with both of them there, knowing I was in there with you. Clearly I'm not as bothered today as I was Saturday."

"Clearly." He wasn't going to claim to understand it, which was why he was glad she agreed to the weekend for this plan of hers not tonight. She could very easily change her mind again.

"I'm sorry, she what?" Dawson asked when it was about quitting time. Pruitt was gone and he was done for the most part. Pruitt wouldn't stay gone and Dawson wouldn't stay done.

John cleared his throat. Not sure which part his boss wanted him to repeat. He stuck with the least … bizarre sounding part. "She wants to watch us touch one another," he said. He figured if he repeated the part about her wanting to suck him off with Dawson doing that at the same time his boss may focus too much on that part.

"And you want to do this?"

John shrugged. "Why not? It felt good. It seems to turn her on."

"Yeah, in theory. You sure you want to put that theory to the test? She may not be so turned on seeing it."

"She's not flighty. She knows what does it for her."

"Me and you do it for her?"

"Evidently," John shrugged.

"Huh," Dawson said. "I have to give you an answer now?"

"Well, no, but if you're going to like fire me over this I guess I'd like to know I need to start looking for a job."

"Fire you over this?" Dawson said, leaning against the wall then. John couldn't help but look at him in a completely different way than he had last week. He knew things about him now that he hadn't a few days ago. Stuff he had no desire to know about another guy and really was okay with his life not knowing those things about another guy. He knew them, though, facts were facts. Claire would know them, too, if he agreed to this.

"Just a one-time thing, right? She's curious, wants to see it, the idea landed in her lap, turns her on, so she figures why not."

"I guess," John said. "I didn't ask her, but I can't see it being anything else."

Dawson shrugged. "Why not?"

"I don't know. I don't see her wanting it to be a regular part of our sex lives or anything. It may not really do anything for her when she sees it for all I know."

Dawson chuckled softly at that. "I have nothing to lose. You, on the other hand, do."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, you've been sleeping here, I presume because she didn't react so well."

"Right."

"What makes you think seeing it won't make her react worse?"

John shrugged. "Because she's had time to think about it. And like I said she knows what she likes."

"And you're not going to develop some complex that she likes me? Wants me? Is fucking me when you're doing something else?"

"Uh, no," John said. "I mean, I know she likes you, not in the way you mean. And I don't think you'd fuck her any more than she'd fuck you."

"Why not?"

John shrugged again. "We're sort of friends. You don't have many and neither do I, so you value them as much as I do even if it's the type of friendship we have. I wouldn't shit on a friend so neither would you."

Dawson nodded before he tilted his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. He shook his head a little. "I can't believe I'm even thinking about this. I can't believe she of all of the women out there would want to see it."

John couldn't really either, but as far as John was concerned as long as they were all consenting and willing who cared what they did. He remained quiet, though. There was nothing he was going to be able to say to convince him.

"Think about it as long as you want as long as I know I have a job and Pruitt won't find out."

"You think I'd tell him this?" Dawson scoffed at that, shaking his head.

John supposed he wouldn't, but he wasn't sure how their friendship worked. There was also ways he could paint this situation without revealing to Pruitt what had happened between them last weekend, as if Claire just asked John to approach him about it randomly or something.

"Your job isn't going anywhere," Dawson said.

"All right then," John said. "I'm, uh, going to go home then."

"I'd tell you to have fun, but man a part of me wonders now if…"

"What?" John asked.

Dawson laughed softly. "She likes the idea, so now I wonder if she'll use it as a, um, thing. You know, talk to you about it while you're…"

"Oh," John said, crazily finding himself getting a little excited at the idea that she'd talk to him about that while they were having sex. She certainly seemed to like it earlier. "Would that bother you?"

"Not really. You know it may not be as good."

"Huh?"

He pushed himself away from the wall striding toward him. "A second time. We were at the very least drunk and both in bad moods, so our emotions were a little out of whack, tack onto that possibly drugged because neither of us have ever behaved like that before."

"No," John agreed.

"It may not be the same."

"I, uh, don't think I'd have that problem knowing she was watching and getting excited."

Dawson nodded a little and smirked a bit.

"It wasn't like it didn't feel good," John said.

"No," Dawson admitted.

"And you're not seeing anyone to where they'd view it as cheating or anything."

"Right," he agreed.

John said. "It was better than jerking off alone, wasn't it?"

"That was, yes. I'm not sure this would be better."

"Why not?"

"Because you get to actually have sex with someone when we're done. I don't."

"Oh," John said.

Yeah, he couldn't see him letting Dawson have sex with Claire. He wasn't even sure how he'd feel about Dawson touching her when it got down to it and in her scenario of her helping Dawson go down on him. Well, they'd have to touch. So, really, when all was said and done Dawson could agree and get to their apartment and John could decide at the last minute he didn't want to do this. Fuck if he didn't like knowing something so … absolutely naughty turned her on though. Funny, he'd never even thought of her with another chick. He wasn't sure what that said.

"Yeah, see, I just made you think of something that has you not entirely sure either."

"No," John said with a shake of his head. "I wouldn't have asked you if I was opposed to the idea."

"Go home. I'll either be there on Friday or I won't be. I'm not going to fire you over this."

"Thank you," John said, more relieved than he expected to be at those words.

"She doesn't expect us to do any more than what we did last weekend, does she?" Dawson asked once John had collected his bag and was on his way out the door.

"No," John said. "She knows what happened and more specifically I guess what didn't happen."

"Good."

"That improve your chances of showing up Friday night?"

"It might."

"Yeah, don't worry, she didn't like that idea."

Dawson chuckled softly at that. "Good to know she has limits I guess."

"Yeah, I think that'd be my limit, too, so good to know we're in agreement."

"Night, John."

"Later, Dawson," he said, glad at the very least it wasn't awkward for them. The conversation they'd just had aside. It could've been very awkward for them both after what had happened.

***

"You look about as certain about my being here as I am," Dawson said when John opened the door to their apartment after he'd been buzzed in.

John shrugged. "You came, though."

"Oh, I questioned my sanity, and both of yours, on my way here about fifty times."

"Why are you here then?"

"Are you fucking kidding me? Who in their right mind would say no to someone like Claire? I somehow didn't think she'd have you come back and ask me again two to three months from now, so figured it was kind of a now or never type of offer."

"Pretty much."

"You want me to leave?"

"No," John said and Dawson chuckled a bit at that.

John stepped aside then, letting Dawson in. He'd never been there before and Claire figured it was probably about what he'd expect from an apartment she lived in. She hadn't gone the student housing route, but an actual apartment that she could live in for the rest of school.

She wasn't sure which emotion to concentrate on. He'd shown up. John hadn't known if he would. She'd asked him when he'd gotten home and John said they hadn't talked about it since Monday. How they could work together, have it on their minds and say nothing was beyond her. She'd thought about it all week, longer if she counted the time she thought about it on Sunday.

Now that he was here, though, she wasn't exactly sure what to do. How did something like what she said she wanted get started? She thought of the three of them having something to drink, but she didn't want alcohol as part of this. That just seemed wrong on a few levels.

She did the first thing that entered her mind then.

She kissed John. Hard, surprising him which was kind of funny to think of. They just didn't kiss like this in front of people.

She broke the kiss after a few minutes, sliding a hand in his and then swallowed a bit before kissing Dawson. She'd never kissed anyone except John. Not like this anyway. Not a real kiss. In the back of her mind was the question whether this really counted as a real kiss, but she knew it did. She felt John's hand in hers, squeezing none too lightly at first but he loosened his grip after a few seconds. She wasn't sure how he'd react to her kissing someone else, but assumed her maintaining some sort of contact with him would be better than not.

She drew away then, releasing John's hand only after she'd set it over Dawson's. She'd apparently caught Dawson by surprise kissing him like that because he had been watching her and then John for a reaction to notice she was encouraging John to touch him.

The past few days she'd wondered just what it said about her that she … liked this idea. Liked was an understatement. She knew it bothered John that she admitted to finding Dawson attractive. He was. There was no denying he was a good looking guy. She would never have acted on thinking that or anything.

She'd been furious at both of them at first, but as it wasn't a situation she could tell anyone else about she'd been left to her own thoughts to try to solve the problem. Her thoughts led her to the realization that it probably would've been pretty damned arousing to be in the room with them that night. Drunk or not, under the influence of something or not … There had to be some sort of physical attraction to make possible what happened to happen.

Maybe she was thinking too deeply on it. If they were drugged, maybe an attraction wouldn't have been necessary. She wasn't sure how things like that worked. She'd come to the conclusion, though, that the two of them doing anything together would be incredibly exciting.

She slid her hand over John's on top of Dawson's and then around them so she was touching both of their hands. It was hard to do, neither were particularly small guys.

John closed the distance first, whether for her benefit or his own she couldn't be sure. She didn't care. She slid her hand away from theirs once John's lips touched Dawson's.

A part of her expected, here in person, to be bothered by it. He was kissing someone else after all. Except it was her idea for Dawson to be here. John hadn't thought of it, she had. She supposed he could have lied and said he'd told Dawson her idea and his boss shot it down. So, he must have been at the very least intrigued by the idea himself. And his boss was here. So, clearly no one was here without the understanding of why they were here.

He'd mentioned how them kissing was different than the two of them kissing. Watching them she noticed it. She'd never paid attention to the difference in kissing when it lacked … emotion and feelings behind it. Not that Dawson and John hated each other, but they didn't love each other. They weren't in a relationship.

So what was she supposed to do? Just stand there and watch? She hadn't quite thought that far into this. She set a hand on each of their arms. They didn't look anything alike, but they were both good looking guys who were in exceptionally good shape. Their work being physical was only part of it, they both took care of themselves.

She slid her hands along their arms, needing to touch them both. It was probably a good thing John couldn't read her mind right now when it came to that. She was kind of surprised, touching him or not he'd let her kiss Dawson.

She drew away then, letting a fingertip graze John's hand before pulling away completely and stepping away.

"Where are you going?" John asked. She was kind of surprised he noticed she wasn't there anymore. "And what are you doing?" he asked with a frown.

She paused in unbuttoning her blouse and shrugged. "To our room. You're not going to stand there all night, are you? And what does it look like I'm doing?"

Maybe they wouldn't come in here. She had no idea. She knew she wanted them to, but she couldn't make them. She couldn't even really entice them because she wanted to watch them together so she really wasn't a factor other than the possibility of helping Dawson use his mouth on John.

That thought had turned her on more than she'd probably ever admit to John. She had no idea why either. She hadn't even known that part happened when she went to talk to him on Monday. She'd never dreamt of that having occurred between them.

John came into their room first, regarding her curiously. Was he mad? He wasn't expecting her to stay fully clothed. Was he?

He joined her on the bed, brushing her hand out of the way so he could work the buttons on her blouse as he leaned in to kiss her.

"You're okay?" he asked.

"Yes, why?"

He shrugged. "Just making sure, I guess."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Thinking it in theory and seeing it may not have gotten the same reaction out of you."

She reached for him, kissing him and taking a hand sliding it inside of her blouse.

"I guess so," he whispered, kissing her neck.

"Where'd Dawson go?"

"He'll be in in a minute. We kind of both wanted to make sure you were all right."

"I am," she said as he slid down a bit, kissing the top of her breast. He reached behind her, unhooking her bra and took a peak into his mouth just as Dawson walked in. She tried to be embarrassed, but Dawson didn't seem to mind walking in just then.

She'd never before thought of their bed as small until Dawson joined them on it. It seemed incredibly small now, but that thought was pushed to the back of her mind when he settled himself next to John. She cried out when he took a peak into his mouth.

Holy fuck.

It almost felt too good, both of them sucking on her like this. Very differently, though. John knew exactly what she liked by now where Dawson had no idea so could only guess. She reached for their heads, running her fingers through their hair, arching into them and not at all ashamed to be encouraging them both to continue what they were doing.

She groaned softly as Dawson drew away. John did, too. They each kissed her before drawing away further and finding each other again.

"Teases," she murmured. Neither replied, but she knew they both heard her.

She watched as they worked each other's jeans open, groaning softly as they slid their hands inside. She wasn't sure which hand to focus on, choosing John's ultimately she supposed because he was doing something so un-John-like. For her. She knew for a fact they wouldn't be here right now if she hadn't suggested it.

She shifted a bit, tugging on John's jeans. He moved so she could slide them down and off. She watched Dawson's hand as he touched him, sliding her hands along his legs before grazing the tip of him with her tongue. He cried out so she evidently had surprised him by doing that. Dawson made as if he was going to move his hand, but she slid hers over his preventing him from doing that. She wanted his hand there, stroking him as he pressed himself in and out of her mouth.

Dawson was next to her then and she couldn't help but look at him.

"Fuck. You're stopping now?" John hissed.

"You said she wanted to help me…"

"Oh, yeah," John said.

"I'm not sure she needs me to help her, though. She seems to do just fine with that…"

"Quit flirting with her and do what she wants already."

Dawson chuckled softly and regarded Claire for a minute, seeming to wait for her to show him what exactly she wanted him to do. She wasn't really even sure. She just knew the idea of watching him do this and helping him excited her.

She licked the tip of John's cock and the bit of precum there, causing him to groan before kissing Dawson. He gave a startled groan of his own when she parted her lips, sliding her tongue into his mouth. She hadn't kissed him quite like this earlier. She had to this time, though. She wanted him to taste him, too, She didn't know how else to accomplish that.

She glanced at John when they stopped kissing, knowing somehow he'd been watching. She supposed she would've been if it was her in his situation. He didn't look upset at least so that was good. She wasn't altogether sure what, if any, rules there were for her where Dawson was concerned. She hadn't mentioned anything happening between them, but surely John had to assume…

Well, she would have anyway if she'd taken the time to think about it beyond the general idea of watching Dawson doing exactly what he was doing now. Sliding his mouth over John's very erect cock. Exciting didn't even begin to cover it. Glancing at John who was watching Dawson and not her she had to guess he felt the same thing she did just now.

Dawson moved his mouth off of John and she replaced his with hers almost immediately. She heard John groan softly and she glanced up to see Dawson must have been doing the same thing to John she'd just done to him. John had never avoided kissing her or anything after he'd finished in her mouth so she knew he wasn't bothered by the taste of himself. She moved her mouth so she was licking the side of him when Dawson's mouth was near hers again. They both slid their tongues along the sides of his cock. Claire slid her tongue lower toward his base and Dawson worked his higher toward his head.

"Claire?" John cried out.

He wanted her to stop? She started to draw away.

"No, don't stop that. Ever. Fuck. Just if you want it to be your mouth I cum in you have about ten seconds to switch with him."

Dawson didn't stop sucking on his head at that statement and Claire had no real preference so she didn't make any effort to stop what she'd been doing. And, well, he could finish in her mouth any time. Wasn't that the point of tonight? Maybe not.

Dawson slid his mouth off of him, prompting Claire to do the same and he kissed her. She moaned softly at the taste of John coming from another person's mouth. Very different, but also very exciting. He broke the kiss, sliding his mouth lower along her jaw and neck, lower still. She cried out as he took a nipple into his mouth. She slid her hands to his hair as he nipped at her skin there. Then he wasn't just nipping but sucking and she slid her hands to his shoulders, ready to draw away from him. John wasn't looking as if he was upset by what Dawson was doing. And he had to know.

She reached for John's hand, sliding his with hers on top of his inside of Dawson's jeans. He stopped what he'd been doing to her breast so she moved a bit to slide his jeans off. She hadn't really said she wanted to watch John go down on Dawson or help him do that, but now that John had finished … Well, she kind of really wanted to.

John slid her skirt and panties off before leaning down to kiss her nub and lick her lower lips. He stopped a lot sooner than she would have liked but then he was kissing Dawson again. Gradually, he worked his mouth lower until Dawson's hard-on was in John's mouth. He kissed her then the same way she'd kissed Dawson, letting her taste him. He guided her mouth to the base of Dawson's cock, which surprised her but she didn't hesitate to use her mouth on him there as she'd done to John.

He drew away a few minutes after Dawson finished.

"No, stay there," he said as she started to move beside Dawson when he moved behind her.

"You want me to…"

He thrust into her hard and fast, as deep as he was able to go. She loved when he did that normally, but right now she came as soon as he did that. She wasn't usually quite that easy to get off.

"Does that answer your question whether I want you to or not?" he asked.

"John?" Dawson asked. "You sure you want her to do that?"

"Why are you asking that?"

Dawson shrugged. "Don't know. I'll shut up now," he said, watching both of them.

"I heard what you said about one of us getting to fuck her afterward. It's a toss up which I like knowing better that I'm the only guy she's had in her any which way."

"I understand," Dawson said. Claire suspected he probably did. She got the impression Dawson would probably be as possessive of a woman he was with as John was. Ironic since neither of them were monogamous men in general. John was with her, but it was only because she wouldn't tolerate cheating. It'd taken her a while to believe he was capable of faithfulness.

"But for some insane reason I can't explain I want to watch you do that to her mouth while I'm inside of her."

Dawson moved to his knees then, sliding his hands through her hair as he slid the tip of his cock into her mouth. She felt herself get immediately wetter around John.

"Fuck, Princess, you like that, I guess?"

"Don't answer that," Dawson hissed and she rolled her eyes a bit.

She nodded, though, as John slid a hand over the curve of her ass. He trailed a fingertip along the crevice there. He pulled out of her long enough to slide a couple of fingers inside of her. He was back inside of her almost immediately, though, sliding one of his fingertips into her ass. She hummed softly around Dawson's cock as they both slid themselves in and out of her. She had some control over how deep she took Dawson's cock into her mouth, but not as much in this position as she was used to having. He certainly seemed to enjoy testing how deeply he could thrust into her mouth this way.

She groaned around his cock and finished almost immediately when she heard them kissing above her. They weren't being quiet about it. For her benefit? Knowing she liked it? She was scared to admit to John how much she liked seeing them do that.

She swallowed when Dawson finished inside of her mouth at about the same time John did. He ran a fingertip along her back and over the curve of her ass as he slid the fingertip he'd used inside of her out. She sighed softly at the feeling of now having nothing inside of her all of a sudden.

Dawson moved first and then John did so they were on either side of her. John made no move or gave no indication he expected Dawson to leave. He seemed to pick up on that fact, too. He turned his back to Claire, though. She reached for John's hand then, settling their hands along Dawson's side. She ran a fingertip along his skin there. John didn't move his hand with hers but he didn't lift it from hers or stop her from touching him.

"Really?" she asked, glancing at him over her shoulder as she felt him slide between her legs as if he wanted to get hard again.

He shrugged. "Sue me."

"And you're sure you wouldn't…"

"No," they both said.

She laughed softly, leaning in to kiss John before kissing Dawson's shoulder.

"She thinks she's going to be able to convince us," Dawson murmured.

"She can try all she wants," John said.

"Why is it okay for you to use your mouths…"

"It's just different," John said.

"Hmm," she said.

"Sorry, Princess," John whispered, kissing her ear.

"I know."

"Where are you going?" she heard John ask Dawson a while later.

"Uh, home," he said, shifting on the bed.

"Why?" John asked.

She felt Dawson shrug.

"You have something more pressing to do than be here?"

Claire watched as Dawson turned to face her then. She wasn't sure why she'd positioned herself facing him instead of John. She pressed a kiss against his neck. John grabbed Dawson's hand, settling it over one of Claire's breasts as he slid inside of her from behind. Dawson slid lower on the bed, shifting her a bit so he could use his mouth on her while John was inside of her.

"Oh God, I sure hope not," she murmured, groaning none too softly when he took a break from using his mouth on her to lick John's cock as he pulled out of her.

"You like that," John whispered with a soft chuckle in her ear.

"Uh huh," she said.

"A lot?"

"What's not to like?" she asked.

"You want me to turn a light on, Princess," John whispered in her ear.

"No, just don't stop! Either of you."

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

~The End~

Story ©Susan Matthews/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com