"Mace!" Capa hisses, struggling against the iron grip holding him down. Normally he can get away, but he is laying down and Mace is applying his full body weight. Escape is completely unrealistic-- he was taken by surprise, to his peril. But it isn't as if he can spend every moment super-aware, awaiting whatever attack Mace will come up with next.
"Shut the fuck up, Capa," Mace says, casual instead of insulting. Capa is used to it by now. Mace's language is often colorful and thus his swears are rarely meaningful.
What is meaningful is the way Mace applies just a little more pressure, enough to make breathing difficult. Capa drags in a deep breath, then holds it and arches up against Mace, squirming, trying not to enjoy the heat and pressure of another person as much as he was.
They are barely two months into their mission; things can in no way continue like this for the rest of the trip.
Mace's teeth sink into Capa's neck, high on the right side over the tendon there. There is nothing to do but let out the breath he was holding in, breathing out a low moan as his squirming takes on a different quality. Against Capa's neck Mace laughs, full-throated and triumphant.
"Get over it," Capa growls, jerking one hand away from Mace's while he's distracted by his victory. He puts his hand on Mace's throat, pushing him away. "Don't you have better things to do?"
"Not for another--" Mace glances at the clock on the wall, seemingly unconcerned about being choked and in no hurry to go anywhere, "twenty-six minutes." Despite Capa's hand choking him and his face slowly turning red, Mace seems to be enjoying this, grinding down harder against Capa.
Capa's strength falters a moment as he feels the firm heat of Mace's cock pressing against his own through layers of jeans and underwear. It has been less than a day since their last interlude, his logical mind reminds him, but then again his cock has always had a mind of its own.
"You're so easy," Mace teases, leaning down and stealing a kiss. Nothing like lovers would share, like Capa might give to Corazon if he ever gets that lucky, but more like a continuation of the fight that happens whenever Mace and Capa are together.
He keeps up the best he can, but his body isn't obeying, not with the little rocking motions Mace does. Not with Mace's free hand sliding up Capa's shirt to tweak one nipple, gently at first, then hard as Mace's teeth rake Capa's tongue.
Capa groans. He isn't going to lie to himself; he probably won't enjoy this as much if Mace were anything other than rough, same as his rough-and-tumble personality.
"You," he tries. For his trouble, Mace bites his lip, suckling it gently before biting it again. Mace moves away slowly-- his entire body, not just his head-- until Capa's lip is his own once again and he feels suddenly cold and vulnerable at the loss of heat and weight.
"Strip," Mace tells him.
Even if it was what he was going to do anyway, Capa balks at being ordered to do so. "Why should I?"
Halfway through taking off his jeans Mace blinks, like he can't believe that Capa just said that. "Because you want to fuck me?"
Capa laughs, light and free, at the idea that Mace would ever be insecure about anything, much less the fact that he was wanted. He shakes his head without thinking as he laughs, and Mace's expression goes from unsure to angry.
"Enjoy your right hand," Mace growls, pulling his clothes back on post-haste.
"I'm a southpaw!" Capa calls after him, laughing again even as his cock aches.
At least now he knows how to fend off Mace's affections, if there ever comes a time when he doesn't want them in truth. Not, he thinks, that such a time will ever come after the initial shock gives way to arousal.
But Mace does nothing. Nothing sexual, no overtures or lewd jokes, no angriness, nothing. Just blank, as if they never fucked on multiple-times-daily basis for eight days. Today marks the eighth day of not fucking.
At first Capa is pleased: it was good to not have to endure the looks the other crew members gave him-- especially Cassie. Nothing was a secret for very long when everyone lived on top of one another the way they did.
. . . Not that Cassie had any business giving him those looks in the first place. He's not usually attracted to women (although there have been exceptions; he had a girlfriend before he had a boyfriend) so it's not as if he's given her hope for anything beyond their current friendship. It's possible that she doesn't know she's doing it, too, so . . .
He's purposefully avoiding thinking about Mace. Capa sighs and buries his face in his hands for a moment before scrubbing both through his hair. Sitting here at his workspace, staring at calculations he's done too many times already isn't helping him; he needs to address the problem, and he knows what the problem is even if he'd prefer to ignore it.
With another sigh, this one more resigned than frustrated, he pushes himself into standing up and heads for the barracks. They are lucky enough to have rooms of their own, instead of sharing a common space. His room is at the very end of the hall, and Mace's sits opposite. He knows Mace's doorkey, just as Mace knows his, so he types it in and steps inside as soon as the door opens.
"Mace. . ." he manages, but abruptly trails off. His cheeks must be on fire but Mace just gives him a look and continues fucking Corazon.
Who doesn't appear to have noticed that the door is open, what with the way she's on her back, head thrown back and eyes closed, arms bracing herself against the wall at the head of the bed while Mace pounds into her.
He doesn't like women, but. But, the sight of Mace's cock sliding into Corazon's pussy is enough to make his cock stir, twitching and slowly hardening. Mace notices and grins lewdly, arranging Corazon's legs so that Capa has a better view. He slows, too, pulling almost all of the way out and pausing for long enough that Capa has a generous eyeful of that entire, familiar cock: reddened and stiff, wet with her juices.
Capa swallows hard, leaning back against the wall, pinned there by Mace's performance. It's the kind of thing that demands attention, especially when Corazon arches her back, her small breasts poking out more prominently. Mace leans down to suckle one, speeding up the pace a little.
Corazon moans, tossing her head and opening her eyes. Guiltily, Capa looks at Mace before she makes eye contact with him. "What the--" she starts, doesn't finish.
Mace slams hard into her, looking at her instead of Capa, finally, and shushing her. "I thought you wouldn't mind him?" he asks, obviously referring to some earlier conversation that Capa wasn't part of.
"I wouldn't," she gasps, starting to squirm; Mace is still buried deep inside her, holding still. "Don't stop, bastard. I was so close."
The laugh Mace gives is short and sharp as he resumes his rhythm. Capa's cock, fully hard, strains against his briefs-- he feels the elastic band pressing against the head. Delicious, bordering on painful.
"Don't just stand there," Mace says, only a little breathless. "Get that dick over here."
Capa's heart pounds as he steps out of his jeans, leaving his briefs on and only pulling them down enough that his cock and balls hang out. It feels more indecent than less, somehow, so he opts to pull them all the way off instead. That done, he takes the whole step and a half over to the bed. "Um, which. . ."
"Here," commands Mace, motioning with his hand before grabbing Capa's hip and directing him to here.
The heat of Mace's mouth, his lips and the delicious suction, pulls a soft moan out of Capa before he can stop it. Corazon makes a little sound as well, and Capa looks down at her to see her eyes wide and completely focused on Capa's cock. Or Mace's mouth. Or both.
"Jesus," Capa breathes, hands settling on the back of Mace's head. Not to direct, just for the feeling of it, rubbing Mace's short hair, fingernails scraping over the backs of Mace's ears in a way that never fails to work him up.
The sound of Mace fucking Corazon isn't one he'd have chosen for a backdrop, were he given a choice, but he never really had one. He wanted Mace, so he got Mace. On Mace's terms, the slap of flesh on flesh lettering out the fine print.
Mace's teeth scrape Capa's cock suddenly, and at the same time Corazon's hand finds the back of Capa's leg. She grips, not digging nails in, and Capa shakes with feelings he can't identify, save for the pleasure that overlays everything.
That is the only important part, in truth: the suction of lips as apology for the teeth, or maybe just as itself. Nothing more than an act that makes Capa's mouth fall open and no sound come out. It's choked, slain somewhere in the back of his throat and leaving only a soft ah, ah, ah all on the inward breath, tone flat.
The laugh, the heh that Mace puffs out over Capa's cock in the next second revives Capa's breath and voice and he hisses out a low "Keep going" with an even lower "damn you" tacked onto the end.
Corazon laughs too, and her hand doesn't grip anymore; it slides upward-- really slides, leaving a cool trail of, of probably lubricant in its wake-- and Capa nearly pulls away. But Mace is there, hand on Capa's hip now, and Capa realizes that the sound of the fucking has stopped.
He dares to look down, to investigate. Mace's hips are still, his cock buried inside of Corazon, but Cory's hips are anything but. Squirming like a belly dancer, rocking, all of that while her finger slides into Capa's ass.
For a terrible moment, he thinks that they must have planned this.
Then she begins to finger fuck him, and Mace deep throats Capa's cock. Caught between them is the best-- and somehow also the worst-- place to be, and here he is, and he thinks, or doesn't think actually, he just gives in and clutches Mace's head, spreads his legs a little wider to give her better access. Corazon must have done this before, with the way her fingers find his prostate so quickly and know to just stroke it gently, coaxing instead of ordering the orgasm out of him.
He doesn't close his eyes because he can't look away from them, from the trimmed almost-black mound and the way the muscles in Mace's stomach tense every so often.
And Mace, eyes closed peacefully as he deep throats Capa's cock again. He knows Capa too well; there's no way to hold out against this, so he doesn't, whispering a warning to them: "I'm, I, gonna--"
"Good boy," Corazon says, words lightly accented as always, and Capa comes still looking at her.
She tenses a little, and her smooth movements become jerky, those slim hips stutter. Mace swallows around him and doesn't waste any time when he's finished. He's already starting to move again, hand going to Corazon's hips now, holding her in place as he looks down at her and fucks her as brutally, wonderfully fast and hard as he ever fucked Capa.
He has no idea when she comes; it seems like she is right from the start, panting and moaning and gripping at Capa's thigh with one hand and the sheets with the other.
It's much easier to tell when Mace does, because Mace stops moving. That's the way he comes, always, his perpetual motion stilled and that groan. It's wordless and startled every time, like he never quite believes it's happening. And every time, it sends a shot straight down Capa's body, arousal and possessiveness warring.
Capa turns to leave, but only makes it halfway. Mace's hand is up quickly, gripping Capa's waist hard enough to bruise.
"What?" Capa whispers. Now that he's not being ruled by his cock, he can see quite clearly how bad of an idea this is.
"Stay," says Corazon, eyes imploring. She doesn't offer further plea, only letting him have a moment to think.
Mace isn't so nice. "Get your ass down here. We need to make a Cory sandwich."
Capa can't help but laugh. "A Cory sandwich, huh?" He moves a little closer, hesitating at the edge of the bed. They really will be making a Corazon sandwich, squeezing together just to stay on the tiny bed.
"Yep," Mace answers.
Capa takes a deep breath. Can they really do this for the rest of the trip?
Does it really matter?
Wordlessly, he climbs into the bed with Mace and Corazon. He knows it's not the end of his and Mace's fighting, but it's a truce, and he agrees to the terms.