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In the First Resort

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They still had nightmares, all three of them. It happened less frequently now, but every now and then, a rough day or a flashing image on the television stirred something in one of them.

They still had nightmares.

Sara was woken up from hers by Michael running soft hands down her arms and Lincoln breathing calming sounds into the crook of her neck where her skin was moist and tacky. She was thrashing across their bed, trying to escape and run, her wrists and back hurting from events that happened long ago. Together, they dragged her out of Gretchen’s hands and threats and into their embrace. They repeated over and over that she was safe, they were safe, and Gretchen wasn’t there, and...

In the end, their words found their way into her brain, she took in a shaky lungful of air and relaxed.

Michael kissed her temple; she leaned into his touch on instinct, comforted by his familiar warmth and scent. Lincoln palmed her breast, either on purpose or just because he was hugging her; she leaned into his touch on instinct too, and a small moan of encouragement fell from her lips. Lincoln stroked with more intent and glided his free hand down the curve of her hip.

In the half darkness of the bedroom, Michael looked down to where Lincoln’s fingers had started brushing her nipple and tugging her night tee-shirt up. He frowned and clicked his tongue in disapprobation.

“Sex isn’t the solution to everything, Lincoln,” he chastised.

Sara instinctively clutched Lincoln’s fingers to her chest. It wasn’t necessary; Linc didn’t seem too impressed with Michael’s reprimand if the hand he sneaked between her thighs meant anything. She sighed and let her head loll back onto his shoulder, shifting to accommodate and urge him on, eager for more. Sometimes in broad daylight, she still couldn’t wrap her mind around what the three of them shared. But here and now, in bed, in the cocoon of intimacy they’d created for themselves, a touch or a look was all it took to ignite the need, lust, love – whatever it should be called didn’t matter.

Lincoln’s fingers rimmed the entrance to her body and the caress eased the not-so-imaginary pain in her back.

Sex wasn’t the solution to everything, Michael got this right.

She didn’t want nor need a solution to everything. She was modestly aiming for comfort and diversion from the images stuck in a corner of her mind and threatening to overcome her. She told that to Michael, pointed out the positive effect of endorphins that sex would induce; more efficient and less destructive – especially in her case – than so many other solutions. Not the solution to everything, but a first resort.

Michael surely could appreciate a scientific fact, couldn’t he?

Michael kissed her lips so gently that she considered biting him in return. She settled for rubbing her ass into Lincoln’s lower stomach.

“Just fuck her, for God’s sake,” Lincoln grunted with exasperation. He briefly removed his fingers from Sara’s crotch to wipe them, damp with her arousal, over Michael’s mouth. “Or I’m going to do it.”

Michael groaned at the salty taste forced on him. He didn’t like making love to her when she was like that; exactly as he didn’t like making love to Lincoln in similar circumstances. His desire for them felt too much as if it was thriving on their fears and helplessness.

“You’re not excited because we’re in pain,” Sara had told him once. “You want us because you love us.”

Lincoln shifted and rolled her with him, half on her back and half on her flank. Her tee-shirt came off and very soon, she was naked and writhing against him, her shoulders plastered to his torso, one large hand playing with her breasts, the other one resuming its previous activities and teasing the intimate, slick flesh. The contrast between the roughness of his finger pads and the gentleness of his touch had her bucking, muscles coiling and heart hammering in her chest.

“Michael, please...”

She threw him a glassy look and started to pant as Lincoln was repositioning his fingers to open her for Michael. They knew he would yield, he always did the second he had the certitude this was what Sara wanted and needed; he wasn’t making her wait to tease – even though it certainly constituted an added bonus.

So no teasing. Michael gave in and slid into her, rubbing against Linc’s fingers in the process, thick and hard and filling her. She moaned and held onto him, letting Lincoln absorb each jolt of her hips. Pleasure and searing heat to shrink and force away the memories of another searing heat, this one paired with pain and Gretchen’s cold voice and sharp blows.

Michael pushed one of her legs higher around his waist and she cried out at the more pronounced stretch, too far gone to show any restraint. Lincoln met her gaze, his erection pointedly pressed into the small of her back, ready to hump her hip if he had to get himself off. She smiled at the implied question. Always practical, her brother-in-law-lover-friend.

“Hold off a bit,” she told him.

“Fuck!”

Michael blurted out the expletive as the meaning of her reply sank in. So easy to envision it; it was sharp and clear, the image of Lincoln moving surely and steadily into her, of Sara mellow and already satisfied taking him as earnestly as she took Michael. It would hardly be the first time, but it never ever failed to undo him.

The promise drove him into a frenzy of rolling hips, deep and fast, relentless enough to make slide her up and down against Lincoln’s sweaty skin. Her release unraveled mere seconds before Michael’s, shaking her to her core.

She came back to the here and now progressively, emerging from pure sensations to see and hear again. See Lincoln move down, hear Michael groan in pleasure. She lifted up onto her elbows. Lincoln was taking Michael’s softening erection into his mouth and licking him clean with adamant care, his eyes trained up on her. Michael palmed the back of his brother’s head with hesitant fingers. It still felt so good; it was already on the verge of too much. Sara brushed a kiss over his pursed lips. That little show was for her benefice – not only, but mostly. She liked to watch; the two men knew that much, as Lincoln knew she would need an incentive of this kind to keep her going.

And it certainly worked, she admitted, as a pleasant electrical shock twisted her belly. She tried to clamp her thighs together only to realize that Lincoln was already settled between them, forbidding her such a move. She squeezed him between her knees.

“You sure about that, Sara?” he asked.

He was graciously offering her a way out. She would be damned if she took it. Not to mention the renewed interest in the pit of her stomach, the aching void between her legs needing to be filled.

“Just fuck her, for God’s sake,” Michael retaliated, which got him a nasty look from his brother.

Sara didn’t bother with an answer of her own and nonchalantly lay back into the sheets and pillows, bracing herself for Lincoln. She would need it. She felt at his mercy, exposed and wanton, even more so when he dragged his fingers between her thighs, in the damp and tacky mess her encounter with Michael had left.

“He likes that”, Michael volunteered into her ear as Lincoln was casually fingering her. “Having you after me. It turns him on.”

One more area in which they complemented one another, then. She purred this sotto-voce, tone and eyes mischievous. Michael gave her a stern look and leaned down to suck her nipples into his mouth, diverting her attention and blocking her view from what Lincoln was up to. Not that it took much imagination.

She whimpered when Linc entered her, slow, steady, pushing in to the hilt and only stopping when he was deeply encased in her. It was okay; it wasn’t like she wasn’t dripping wet and ready enough already. She kissed Michael, who turned her to Lincoln. She lost herself in them, in their kisses and touches, hardly remembering the demons and fears and why the night had gone the way it did.

Her second orgasm was longer to build. Lincoln was doing his best, Michael too, and for a few minutes, she thought she could be happy with that, with the warm feeling of the two of them taking care of her and taking pleasure in her. It was nice and comfy, and Lincoln deserved his release any way she could help him get it.

“Don’t count on it, Doc,” he said. The ‘Doc’ piqued her interest – he rarely used it anymore – and so did the too intense jab he gave her. “Mikey here will give me hell if I come and you don’t. You’re too hot when you lose it, anyway. I want to see you.”

She arched up at his words, meeting his every thrust. It went much, much faster after that. Whether he meant each word or it was deliberate dirty talk to ratchet her up, it worked like a charm. Michael kissing her deep and tender, his fingers sliding down between Lincoln’s stomach and hers to find her clit didn’t hurt either. He circled the small nub of flesh with a light touch, just enough, just enough pressure, in synchronization with Lincoln’s pounding.

Between her own desperate sounds and Michael’s whispers, she heard Lincoln’s pants and filthy, albeit appreciative, praise. Lincoln could have a potty mouth when he was coming; and he certainly was there, spilling long and hot into her, holding her tightly and caringly.

Everything went white; and then black, a dark cozy velvet perfect for the way she felt. She collapsed. She vaguely realized that Lincoln was sliding out of her and carefully rolling her into Michael’s arms who caught her like she was the most fragile person he’d ever hold.

“She fell asleep?” Lincoln’s tone was in equal parts offended and incredibly smug. “I can’t believe her.”

Michael snorted and made some derogatory comment on Lincoln’s exhausting sexual prowess and useless cuddling technique. Sara smiled against his chest and totally tipped into sleep.

No more nightmares tonight.

-End-