He’d barely made it through the hushed whisper of the sliding doors before they were on him. Huge hands tugging at his jacket and BDUs while the scrape of stubble and a soft wet mouth laid a trail of eager kisses up under his jaw.
“Fuck, yeah!” The curse uttered on a bubble of laughter was stolen by a different pair of equally welcome lips; just as eager, just as rushed, as the first.
Cam remembered he had hands too, and reached, grabbed for his lovers; two men who lived a galaxy away from him.
Ronon had dropped to his knees, cool of the tile creeping through the brown of his leathers, as he worked to free Cam’s cock; growled impatiently when it took more than a millisecond to have hard flesh in his fist.
Cam’s legs turned to water at Ronon’s skilled touch, long pulls and rough twists sending him hurtling toward a climax it was way too early in the game for him to have.
“Missed you,” John murmured, a harsh confession dragged from his heart on an exhale against the salt sweat skin of Cam’s neck. ‘God, he could feast there all day.’
“All the damn time, Flyboy.” Cam answered on the kind of moan he would’ve found embarrassing if Ronon wasn’t going down on him, taking every one of his eight inches into that wet succulent mouth.
“Easy,” John chuckled, yanking black cotton over Cam’s head, leaving Cam’s back bare against cool panelling.
Cam hissed, fire in his intense blue eyes as he cupped his own hands over black shadowed jaw and yanked John into a kiss.
Cam kissed him more gently than John’d expected when the other man grabbed him, but it was heaven; a heady mix of longing and hunger for all John could give, which right now, was any goddamn thing Cam wanted. He slumped against his lover, the press of their battle-scarred chests all that held them vertical.
Ronon felt their hands drop on his head, fingers crooked to tangle and tug on his dreads, anchoring him between them with the sharp sparks of pain in his scalp. He groaned around the cock heavy on his tongue and thick in the back of his throat, felt it swell with the vibrations as John’s kisses amped Cam’s need, and Ronon’s own pleasure. John had twisted in close, long lean thigh pressed to Ronon’s cheek in a not-so-subtle plea for attention. Sure, he could take John too, had done before. The only thing better than one cock on his tongue, was two, both sliding deep in a dance the three of them had found on the first try; messy as fuck, his lips stretched to the point of splitting. Ronon growled at the thought and reached for John’s fly, only to be met by John’s cock, angry glistening head jutting forth and demanding its share of Ronon’s already full mouth.
“Damn, would y’look at that,” Cam whispered loud enough they all heard how turned on he was, drawl hitching as John nudged tight and close and desperate past Ronon’s waiting lips.
Ronon slid forward, sucked back, and barked choked laughter when John and Cam shifted their stance; holding each other upright, eyes fixed on where the three of them were joined – finally – calloused fingers overlapped on the back of his head.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Cam purred, he’d missed this; Ronon’s sweet mouth, John protective and always at his side.
John could feel…everything. Fuck! Ronon’s mouth was always hot, but never so good as when Cam shared it with him. Yet he wanted more; separated by the Air Force and a coupla million miles, guaranteed the first round never lasted as long as the second and third. He slid his free hand over Cam’s lips, teased even as Cam opened, and slipped three long fingers over the playful tongue that licked between, and tickled the webs the deeper he probed. He thought of fucking his cock in till Cam choked, mimicked the motion with his fingers and tightened his grip in Ronon’s hair as Cam suckled; blue eyes black with desire locked on John’s own.
‘So that’s how Cam wanted it.’ John could go along with that. He felt his cock jerk at the thought, precome slick in Ronon’s overstuffed mouth.
John tugged his fingers free from Cam’s suction, fuck, with a dirty pop, the sound widening Cam’s pretty eyes and lifting John’s mouth in a satisfied smirk. He pushed his fingers down the cleft of his fellow colonel’s ass, felt the globes part and squeeze heavily back over as they passed, sliding deeper; searching.
Cam bucked up, breathed an apology when Ronon choked and John’s fingertips pressed against his hole; his pre-slicked, pre-stretched hole.
“Fuck, Cam,” John gasped against Cam’s lips when he realised Cam had readied himself; had fucked back on his own fingers, worked his neglected hole open for his lovers, while the entire crew of the Odyssey went about their business, completely oblivious that Cam was bearing down on his own hand, wrist aching from the angle, John and Ronon’s names falling from his lips.
John saw it all behind closed eyes as he plunged three fingers, twisted and stretched, stroked and withdrew, only to drive deep again; his mouth drinking down Cam’s moans and feeding him his own as Ronon tugged gently on his heavy sensitive balls.
Ronon pulled back, sucking his lovers’ cocks so they squeezed together before popping free; shared string of slick still connecting them. He wiped it away with the back of his hand as he got to his feet, thighs weak with how much he wanted. The look of bliss on Cam’s face, the hunger in John’s as he turned to kiss Ronon, forearm flexed behind Cam, still fucking their lover open.
John groaned, lost his rhythm in Cam’s ass when he tasted the three of them in Ronon’s mouth; licked over swollen lips, felt beard rasp his chin, and Ronon’s big palm cupping his ass; lifting him in tight, rubbing John’s naked cock against leather.
“Damn, that’s hot!” Cam groaned, wriggling back on the now-four fingers filling his ass, but doing nothing to slake his want.
“Bed.” Ronon rumbled, caught the flash of need in both his lovers’ eyes. “Now.”
It wasn’t sexy, how they got in position; long-denied hunger, bodies clumsy in their amped-up arousal, and resented separation hindering them. It would be smoother next time, cooler, sexier; once the all-consuming edge had been assuaged, soothed, satisfied.
John lay on his back, thighs splayed invitingly, balanced on tiptoes, cock strained angry and hard along his tight belly, and Cam couldn’t wait a second longer to ride him. He climbed up, Ronon’s hands splayed over his hips for balance, or because Ronon couldn’t not touch him. Cam didn’t care, Ronon was there, and that was all that mattered; body of smooth golden muscles at his back. Cam whimpered at the thought. He was here; finally.
“Cam?” John pecked his lips, nibbled teasingly until Cam opened his eyes and looked at him; studied the quirk of brow, the humour dancing around puffy lips, hunger and something else swimming in hazel-gold depths.
“Yeah, baby?” Cam murmured.
“Get your sweet ass down on my cock now!”
Cam snorted, ducking in close for a breath-stealing kiss, wriggling in Ronon’s grasp like he wanted to flee. “Yes, Sir.”
Ronon watched his lovers’ bodies slide together, one the sheath, the other the blade; transfixed with how perfect the connection, how pretty John’s cock looked penetrating, disappearing within Cam’s body. That sweetly perfect ass spread wide over John’s narrow hips, and fuck, he needed to be in there too! As if hearing his thoughts, John widened his thighs, stretched Cam open in an invitation too impossible to resist.
Cam wriggled, testing the strength of the arms wrapped across his shoulders, tucking his face tight into the crook of John’s neck, lifting his ass higher. He could only imagine the view Ronon had; the opposite of last time when Cam was the one to fill Ronon up.
“Jesus,” Cam couldn’t wait another breath. “Get in here, already!”
Ronon lunged close, knocking John’s thighs and watching Cam grind down, John throwing his head back with the sensation. “That an order, Mitchell?”
He didn’t need or wait for confirmation, cock, hard beyond description, sliding against John, and Cam’s taut rim, before pushing through – slow and gentle and unrelenting.
“Jesus…Mary…n’Joseph!” Cam cursed, his breath punched out of him as Ronon overfilled him, opened his ass to the weight of all that girth; silken steel solid and just…there. Cam thought he’d remembered, but nothing, nothing could prepare him for this reality. He’d fucking missed this.
“Hey?” Cam heard John, voice harsh with the struggle of holding still, the warmth of concern flowing over Cam’s tense muscles, soothing the fire, stoking the pleasure. “You okay?”
Ronon waited with a will of iron, the soft delicate flutter of Cam’s inner walls adjusting was fucking amazing. The hard line of John’s cock against his urged him to move, to thrust, to fuck till he couldn’t see anything but the crest of his release ahead of him. But he waited. Double fucking his blue-eyed lover with John, the three of them as one, required skill and patience; patience that Ronon drew on now. He wanted Cam screaming on the end of his cock, yes, but from pleasure, not pain. So he waited; fingertips white in their grip of Cam’s hips, hips that’d bear the marks of Ronon's possession come the morning.
“Yeah, yeah,” Cam eyed John’s expression and hastened to assure his dark haired colonel. It’d been a while, but no way in hell were they stopping. “I’m good. Wish Ronon’d move ‘s’all.”
John chuckled, shifting all three of them, and Ronon couldn’t hold back; withdrawing only to rut deeper than before.
“Damn!” Cam bellowed, throat dry, neck arched back and away, vulnerable to the feel of John’s suckling mouth. “Ronon, harder!”
Ronon growled and fucked, mindlessly shafting in the tight slick tunnel of Cam’s ass, abused muscles rippling in encouragement as Ronon rubbed John’s cock and stabbed Cam’s sweet spot over and over.
John wanted, needed to move, but with Cam weighing him down and Ronon fucking like a freight train off its rails, he had to lie there and just take it – like he was the bottom. He was ok with it. Heat was swirling in his balls, sparking in his spine with every sweat-slick graze of Cam’s nipples on his, the cut of dogtags in his sternum anchoring him; helping him hold off.
This was too good. It’d been too long, and it’d be over all too soon – no matter when it ended. He bumped a kiss into Cam’s mouth, Ronon’s thrusts throwing off his aim, but allowing him to hear his own name on Cam’s ragged breath; a plea, a declaration of his lover’s loneliness, his isolation from them.
“’S’okay,” John answered, lips sealing his promise, eyes drifting to lock with soft brown over Cam’s shoulder. “We’re here.”
Cam spasmed in John’s arms, his colonel’s words the catalyst for the best goddamn orgasm Cam’d had in too fucking long. He bit into John’s shoulder, skin salty-sweet, to muffle his cry. Muscles flexing around his lovers, milking them, wanting, needing them with him in this, especially in this.
Ronon rammed tight, every inch of himself buried deep inside Cam, the twist and release of that perfect ass sucking his come from him; Cam’s body thirsty for all he could give, and Ronon desperate to yield. He ground his hips, the base of his cock grinding on John; their balls tender and pulled tight, squeezed between them. Ronon felt them pulse, heard John’s choked moan as he fought to stay quiet; calloused palms over Ronon’s on Cam’s hips while wet heat flooded down Ronon’s shaft, mixed seamlessly with his own release.
Cam dropped his head to nuzzle close, to breath in John’s scent and reached a rubbery arm back for Ronon, a solid reassuring weight against his back, before John inevitably shoved them sideways; a tangle of exhausted limbs eager to pull each other close again.
Ronon leaned over John, large hand curving to Cam’s ass, fingers dipping between to wiggle in the slick mess and circle puffy used flesh. He swirled them as his lover pushed back, sucked two fingers easily inside himself; muscles so fucked open they’d forgotten how to close. Ronon thrust deep, pulled back slow only to fuck fast; his and John’s come squelching between.
“Ro-non!” Cam pleaded, unsure if he wanted those teasing fingers to stop, or go deeper. He loved this part; the part where Ronon was fascinated with his used hole, liked to play in the mess he’d made of Cam, as if assuring himself that Cam was his to do with what he wanted. Cam was more than ok with that, loved the heat of overuse that thrummed beneath Ronon’s touch. He loved it when John slow-kissed him through it, like they were climbing again. That was usually when Ronon – the sadistic bastard – stopped, pulled free, leaving Cam open, rim grasping on air filled with the sound of his lovers’ combined laughter as they pulled him between them. Down into the arms of sleep, the echoes of their wicked promises filling his dreams.