IC; Deerington Inbox

[suchmiracles]

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cw: nsfw

[howlett]

Logan's never fully understood Kurt's desire to be the focal point. The object of such scrutiny and attention, but he takes plenty of joy in giving over that focus when it makes Kurt writhe like he does now.

With one arm crossing Kurt's chest like a strap, he holds their bodies flush together. The other hand tugs gently on a fistful of hair, coaxing his chin towards the ceiling so the view from over his shoulder is nothing but taut, chiseled angles from his Adam's apple to his collar bone, all the way down to his stuttering hips.

At first he takes his time. A deep and deliberate rolling his hips against Kurt's backside just to enjoy the view from up here. Watching Kurt's fingers curl involuntarily around a handful of Wes' oatmeal blond hair. The way his stomach inflates with quick puffs of breath when the younger man devours him. The way he tightens his thighs when the younger man teases him and rewards his patience by drawing him in.

He groans against Kurt's neck and drags his teeth gently over that pointed ear. "you're so damn thirsty," he growls only to catch the sight of Wes' interested eyes looking up to follow the minor movement of his lips. He drags a finger down Kurt's throat to his sternum. Signing his intention on the other man's body.

That broken string of half requests feels like a thought shattered by the tectonic shift threatening to quake his entire body. It begins in his hips. His tail seems to tighten around Logan's leg and Logan holds him tighter as the younger man shivers against his chest. Splaying his heavy hand low across Kurt's stomach as he starts bucking sporadically towards the mouth that finishes him.

"Fuck..." he growls, biting the shoulder just below his chin. He doesn't bother holding out. Instead of conjuring up the willpower to wait, he leans into it. Letting the way Kurt's body tightens around him be the catalyst for his own shuddering end.

Taking a moment to collect himself, his own breath feels hot and damp in the crook of that fuzzy neck. When his eyes open, Wes is sitting back on his heels and Logan looks down at him until he catches his gaze. Your turn.

cw: nsfw

[wwrench]

His hands seek the touch of both men as their arcing rhythm becomes more erratic. Wrench draws Kurt in with his lips and Logan with a grasp to his captured waist in a tangle of discordant flesh and rising heat. From his vantage point he can watch and feel as they both come crashing toward their own ends. Muscles freezing and twitching, the gasping shudders, and the half-formed pleas that shape both men into something feral and pure all at once. There's no space between them for lies or deceit. Not a breath reserved, even, for self-consciousness or polite reservation. He feels it as they both give in to the most primal parts of themselves. That flash of tension before they lose themselves to waves of earnest pleasure. Maybe it's the one thing Deerington can't corrupt. The single thing they own in this place that can't be taken from them or twisted and manipulated to be used for harm. It's gratitude unfolding from a singular point, and rippling out in long and languid waves.

When Kurt is depleted -- body still humming in aftershock -- Wrench sits back on his heels and wipes his lips. He regards the two men with green eyes made bright by the distant crackle of lightning. A smile parts his lips and reveals the gentle gap between his front teeth. The earnest expression seems for a moment almost shy or startled by what he's done, but the longer he goes on watching himself be watched by the two men who haven't even found the wherewithal to separate themselves, the more that grin shapes the curved corners of his mouth into something more coy.

He holds up a hand to stop the man who beckons him, and shapes his fingers into a spread Y instead. Stay, Wrench insists of the both of them, and crawls on his knees just far enough backward to be out of reach. Nipping his lower lip, he takes himself in his own hand, not so unlike the way he'd been before he was discovered. Just feet from them, he gazes unflinchingly at his rapt audience as he strokes himself more urgently, wetting his lips and letting his own breaths fall heavily as the little urgent sighs give way to deeper groans. The mounting sensation of his own pleasure makes him want to tip his head and gasp toward the ceiling, but he keeps his focus on the two men, insisting their attention as he writhes under his own doing and works himself to a moaning completion for their own observation.

cw: nsfw

[suchmiracles]

The feel of Logan bucking and shuddering underneath him is delicious enough to extend Kurt's own pleasure, shivers running like the pulse of electricity through his body in gradually slowing waves. His awareness thrums, cast wide and held in small individual moments at the same time. The ache of Logan's teeth against his shoulder, already bruising; the warmth of Wrench between his legs and the slide of his tongue and lips as he leaves him, replaced by the cool breath of the night air.

Kurt leans back against Logan's solid warmth, his breathing becoming steadier as he watches, through lowered lashes, Wrench move to sit back away from them. He's tempted to ignore Wrench's instructions and follow him, replacing his fingers with his own mouth, but the thought of watching him touch himself is enough to keep him in place for now. He rolls his body a little, enjoying the feel of Logan still inside him and the low rumble of his response. Reaching down, he encourages Logan's hands to dig into his fur, not quite tired enough to resist the urge to be playful as the storm accompanies Wrench's moans.

His softly glowing eyes devour the sight of their newest partner reaching climax, his pointed teeth catching his lower lip as his own hips rise and fall in unconscious response. As Wrench subsides, he carefully lifts himself off of Logan's lap, giving the Canadian a lambent glance and a brief caress of his tail across his jaw as he stands up, only slightly shaky. This, he decides, is far from over.

He pads over to Wrench, the shadows of the dimly lit room turning into inky brushstrokes across his fur, then kneels between his spread legs. Slowly, he reaches down and takes up Wrench's hand in both of his, raising it to his mouth to carefully and delicately lick it clean.

cw: nsfw

[howlett]

When Kurt finds his feet gracefully, the groan that escapes Logan is anything but. A short, pained and totally involuntary sound brought on by the unexpected stimulation and shiver that takes place of the warmth that once surrounded him.

More exhausted than he'd typically expect to be after just one round, he can't help but feel like that lethargic feeling that people tell him will eventually go away has already over stayed its welcome. He lets himself drop back to the bed, but's a short lived relaxation when Kurt's tail gazes his chin and pulls his attention down towards the pair of them knelt there before the bed.

If watching Wes make a show of himself wasn't already enough to make him think he can rally for more of this, he moans some frustrated obscenities when the two of them paw at each other. Propping himself up on an elbow he watches a long moment, stroking himself, letting his breath heave, until that ragged breath dissolves into a cough.

"If you're gonna keep that up you both need to get up here where I can reach you," he grumbles. Maybe it's the minor work out, his shallow breath or just his satiated expression, but Logan, despite himself, looks more tired now than he did when he woke them up for this.

cw: nsfw

[wwrench]

Arced back on his heels, Wrench feeds Kurt his fingers like a priest offering blessed communion. The body is his own, shared at the other man's lips and compressed against his tongue until his own mouth parts in kind and he shudders out a hot, quaking breath. The heady insistence leaves no room for his gratitude, but it's what Wrench feels most profoundly as he looks past the man drinking him in to the bed where the third in their trio lies stretched across the mattress like a fresh body laid to rest. For a moment he's overcome by what he doesn't know about these men -- what they still don't know about him -- but the peace he's found here nevertheless. There's an implicit understanding shared in the silence between their bodies. A sort of forgiveness between men like them who know better than to ask the questions they might not want to answer for themselves.

Wrench drags Kurt's lower lip into a pout with his finger and leans in to kiss him, brazen and unapologetic and intended for the watchful eyes of the man on the bed whose hand moves against himself again. When Logan beckons to them he smiles and finds his feet, dragging his shorts back up himself but discarding his undershirt before offering a hand down to his companion. He gestures to the bed, but doesn't move to join the duo immediately. Instead Wrench notes the flush on Logan's skin and the bead of sweat that lingers on his brow. You need water, he notes, and pads through the darkened cabin to the kitchen to return with a filled glass for the man.

He doesn't intend to stay, expecting on this night like the ones before that his restlessness will only keep the two men up. But as Wrench settles at the edge of the bed to insist that Logan drink, he finds his own sense of exhaustion almost overwhelming, and the desire to settle in with them almost unignorable.