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I can think of one thousand places much worse than this

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“You ready, babe?” Lup asks. She drapes her arms over his shoulders and he rests his hands on her hips. She’s changed into a tank top and a pair of his boxers that she stole and claimed as her own a while ago--her typical bedtime ensemble--and he thumbs at the elastic hem, worn soft and threadbare with age. He’s still in his jeans and t-shirt.

It’s not so different from any other night, she could just be asking him if he’s ready for bed.

She’s not just asking him if he’s ready for bed.

“Babe?”

They’d both been a bit distracted in the lab today, Barry thinks, trying and failing, at least on his part, not to think about what they had planned for the evening. Anticipation had made him clumsy, made him distracted, and he’s certain his notes suffered for it. But they’d gotten through the day without blowing anything up (without accidentally blowing anything up, sometimes controlled explosions are a necessary scientific component, and even more frequently when Lup is involved), and now they’re in their shared bunk in the Starblaster. Ready.

Waiting. Butterflies eating away at his insides.

“Yup,” he says, pulling in a steadying breath. “Ready.”

Lup doesn’t frown, but she goes still for a second, and he can read concern in the pleasant blankness of her face. “You seem nervous, babe,” she says lightly, leaning in to nose at his ear. “You gonna be okay? You know, we can always call it off if you want.”

“N-no--” Barry says immediately, and then amends, because there were a lot of questions there. “Well, ok yes, I am nervous, but--” He shrugs as she pulls back to look at him. “New things are scary? Doesn’t mean I don’t w-want it. I’m definitely okay. More than okay.” He smiles at her, reassuring, and lets that truth settle in his gaze, lets her see it in his eyes.

He does want this, and doesn’t want her to have any doubts, wants this to be good for them both.

“It was, I recall, originally your idea,” she tells him, eyes sparkling.

He fidgets, huffs out a breath, flustered despite his knowledge that she is intentionally seeking to fluster him. “Well, ok, I think it was a--it was sort of a group, partner, consensus, if you will--”

“Hmmm,” she says. “Yes, I do recall it was.” Satisfied with his answer, she presses her hips into his very deliberately, a knowing smirk blooming across her face.  “Been thinking about this?” she asks, and he buries his face against her neck with a sigh.

“You know I have been,” he says.

“I can tell,” she whispers, in that over the top way that’s sort of sexy but mostly just ridiculous, and that Lup still completely fucking owns.

Barry’s reminded for the umpteenth time that he’s really really gone on her.

There’s a knock at the door. “Come in!” Lup calls cheerily over her shoulder.

Magnus does come in, and he pouts a little when he sees them intertwined. “Did you guys start without me?” he asks.

“Course not big guy, just doing some prep work,” Lup says easily, grinding her hips forward one last time for good measure. Barry bites his lip against a smile. Lup steps out of his embrace to stand next to him but keeps contact, pressed against his side, which Barry appreciates. He knows how silly it is, to suddenly be shy around Magnus Burnsides, whom he’s known for literal decades, especially when this was initially his idea, but they’re unarguably changing the dynamic a bit, and Barry’s never been the easiest about changes, even ones so promising.

Magnus shuts the door behind him and takes a sort of tentative half-step into the room. “Are we still doing what we, ah, what we talked about? Or, well, I guess what you both hinted at--”

Lup laughs a little. “Was the invite not clear? Sexytimes. You, me, and Barold.”

“Oh, yeah,” says Magnus, “And I’m totally on board, totally, but I mean like, specifically--”

“Yes, Magnus, specifically I would like you to put your dick in me,” Barry says, because, explicit consent and all that, and also he’s not the best when it comes to talking about sex stuff while he’s sober so he’d like to get all the blushing out of the way early on if he can.

(Barry is aware that he will most likely be blushing for the rest of the night regardless.)

He and Lup had apparently not had any trouble at all talking about it, this, sex, specifically sex with Magnus, when they tipsily propositioned him roughly a week ago. Barry had blushed then, too, but it had been the giggly type of blushing, with Lup’s hand in his and his breath ghosting humid over Magnus’s ear as he whispered far too loudly about what he wanted Magnus to do to him, what Lup would like to see Magnus do to him. It was less hinting and more semi-coherent and explicitly forward rambling as he remembered it, his mind and the booze both running away with him. Though thankfully they had all been adult enough to realize that maybe the conversation should be had again when all parties were a little less under the influence before any action was taken. He and Lup had talked it over and then gave Magnus a more, uh, formal invitation. There might or might not have been actual stationery involved.

Thus, the three of them, here and now.

Invitation accepted.

Magnus is nodding. “Cool cool cool, so like, we good to--get started?”

Barry does have one thing he wants to say. “We’ve never--” he starts, and stops because they’ve never, but it doesn’t mean he has never-- “It’s been a while, I mean, since I’ve had anything quite that--that big --”

“He means your dick,” Lup supplies helpfully.

Barry is blushing furiously, he can feel how hot his own face is. Magnus’s expression is somewhere between amused and smug. “How do you know how big my dick is?” he asks.

“The fact that you think there are people on this ship that haven’t seen your dick is laughable,” Barry deadpans.

“Also you have told everyone ,” Lup adds. “Verbally. Like you thought the visual wasn’t enough?”

“Touche.” Magnus grins. “Fear not,” he intones with a fair amount of drama, “I am a gentle lover.”

“Fuck off,” Barry tells him and grins back, because seriously, this man. “Just, go slow.”

“Got it.”

Lup shifts behind him, tucking her chin over his shoulder, her arms around his waist. “Don’t worry, Care Bear, I’ll make sure you’re nice and ready,” she says. “Don’t let this nerd fool you Mags, he’s so excited for this.” She slides a hand down to palm him over his jeans. “We both are.”

Barry lets his eyes fall closed, still a little embarrassed but mostly fucking turned on. He knows he’s blushing, again, still, probably bright fucking red from his ears to his shoulders, but he trusts both of these people implicitly, loves them, wants this. It’s not just that he wants Magnus’s dick, Mangus’s body. They’ve lived together for decades now, all of them sharing this tiny, intimate space, their refuge from the storm, their crucible. A melting pot of relationships and emotions. Their engine is fueled by bonds, and their crew was chosen for their ability to build those bonds, amongst their other considerable skills. Barry just wants to see where those bonds will take them, wants to follow the lingering touches experienced over nights spent up late in the kitchen when sleep was elusive and sometimes impossible, the held gazes in the halls during slow cycles that carried just a bit too much curious potential to their logical conclusion.

Lup kisses Barry’s face, part reassurance, part let’s get this party started, boys.

Barry opens his eyes and Magnus is in front of him, close enough that Barry can feel the heat of his body. He’s not wearing a shirt under the IPRE jacket, but he hardly ever is, and Barry really wants to touch him. Has wanted to for a while. Magnus lifts a hand and Barry sort of just--takes it in his own? Draws him in with it and lifts it to his face, presses Magnus’s palm against his face, and it’s tentative and intimate and almost dreamlike, a counterpoint to the way his heart is fucking racing in his chest.

“Can I kiss you?” Magnus asks, and here we fucking go, Barry nods.

It isn’t the first time he’s kissed Magnus, but it is the first time he’s done it sober. Barry has to tip his head back, even further than he has to do with Lup--they’re both taller than he is, and yeah, Barry’s always found that kind of hot. He likes this feeling of being caught between the two of them, caged in by warm bodies and kind hands.

The kiss is nice, soft, a little stubbly, but Magnus is being far too polite about it, so Barry opens his mouth, and kisses him .

Magnus’s other hand comes up to cup his face, the rough pads of his tool and weapon touched fingers holding him steady, and Barry likes the noise Magnus makes into his mouth, pleased and surprised and a bit hoarse. He can feel Lup’s eyes on them as sure as he can feel her heated breath against his neck, and Barry wants to be a sight worth watching. He slides his palms up Magnus’s sides, underneath the invitingly open jacket. He’s has had his share of lovers over the years, most of them during his time at university, but Magnus probably has more body hair than anyone else Barry’s ever been with. The sensory experience of it is intriguing, coarse hair over soft skin over hard planes of muscle. He kisses Magnus and maps out his broad torso with touches that become less tentative with each small encouraging sound Magnus makes.

Lup’s hands are doing their own exploring, dancing their familiar way across Barry’s stomach, his chest, occasionally taking a break to grope his ass. Lup absolutely knows every secret of his body, and she’s using that knowledge to wind him up and drive him mad, and gods, he doesn’t know if he’s going to survive this night. He feels a tug at the hem of his t-shirt, ignores it until it’s being bunched up around his armpits, and only then does Barry break the kiss with Magnus to lift his arms and let Lup pull it over his head. It jostles his glasses a bit as it goes, and they all laugh a little at that, but he doesn’t bother to straighten them, drags Magnus back down into his still-laughing mouth while shoving at the fabric covering those wide strong shoulders. Magnus gets the hint, shrugging out of his custom sleeveless IPRE jacket and letting it fall to the floor.

Lup is kissing Barry’s shoulder, his neck, sucking marks and setting her teeth into him in the way that he knows will still be there in the morning. She loves to mark him, and Barry’s skin loves to be marked, blooming easily against her ministrations. Her long lithe body is pressed against his back, and her tank top is gone.  

Craning his neck up is starting to get uncomfortable, so Barry moves away from Magnus’s lips to mouth along the stubble at his jaw, licking his way down Magnus’s throat. Now that his shirt’s off, Magnus has much better access and takes advantage of it--his fingers follow Lup’s across Barry’s torso as she demonstrates every way to work his sweet spots, and Magnus, bless him, learns quickly. It should be overwhelming, Barry thinks, and it is, sort of, but not in the way that he thought it might be? Not in the way that it feels like too much. Nestled between Lup and Magnus, he feels cared for and loved and worshipped, and that is overwhelming, but in a way that makes his throat tight with emotion, in a way that makes him want to melt into it instead of fleeing from it.

Barry plants a kiss just below Magnus’s collar bone.

Magnus’s breath is warm against his ear.

Lup goes to work on his belt.

“Hey Maggie,” Lup says, all nonchalance. “His neck is real sensitive, you should try it.”

Magnus makes eye contact with her over Barry’s shoulder, and before he can fully process what’s happening, both of them are mouthing along either side of his throat and the only reason Barry doesn’t stumble as he literally goes weak at the knees is because the crush of their bodies keeps him upright. The sideburns make for an interesting added feature. He gasps, open-mouthed to the ceiling as Lup manages to get his pants undone and shoves them down, boxers and all, toward his ankles.

Fuck , oh fuck,” he pants as she gets a hand around him, stroking a few passes. It’s already a lot, and Magnus is grinding into him with Lup’s hand still around him, and she’s moved the suction of her mouth to his earlobe, and it’s so fucking much--

But their night is far from over.

Just as Barry is about to plead for mercy, Lup commands, “Alright, pants on the floor, bodies on the bed.”

“Yes ma’am,” Magnus says, who in a shocking turn of events is the only one still wearing pants, and shuffles back a step to remove them.

Barry steps clumsily out of the pile of clothes around his ankles and lets Lup lead him to the bed. He sits down in the middle of the unmade mess of tangled sheets, and she tucks her knees under her next to him, the rays of this plane’s ubiquitous sun through the little porthole window catching her from behind, lighting her up with that halo glow as she looks down at him, grinning and giddy.

She is so fucking beautiful.

Barry leans forward, he literally cannot help himself, kisses her mouth, her breasts, her belly, her hips above the waistband of her (stolen, claimed) underwear. He drags them down, kissing along the crease of her thigh as he goes, and she raises herself up on her knees to slide them off, kicking them behind her. Barry runs the side of his face down the length of her clit, watching her through his eyelashes, the ghost of that smile still haunting her open mouth, her chest rising and falling with the depths of her breathing. He returns his mouth to the soft skin just inside her hip, sucks a bite mark there while he brings a hand up to stroke along her clit, and her sigh is an audible, shuddered thing, hips stuttering forward in the smallest of movements even as she tries to hold herself still.

The bed dips behind him, under the weight of Magnus as he settles at the end. After another moment, Lup runs a hand through Barry’s hair in a way that indicates enough for now. Barry runs the flat of his tongue over the mark he’s made once more before he gets up and sits back, and she shakes her head at him as their eyes meet. He regrets nothing, but Magnus is waiting for them.

They turn together to look at him, and there’s a heaviness to his gaze as it rests on them that does wonderful things to Barry’s insides. “How do you want me?” he asks.

“There’s good,” Barry says, a little breathless. Magnus has positioned himself with one leg stretched out, toes brushing the wall, and the other crooked at the knee. It leaves his legs spread wide, and it always strike Barry with a bit of awe, how Magnus is constantly so comfortable in his nudity, so completely not self-conscious even as in this moment his mostly-hard dick is on full display.

His beautiful, beautiful dick.

Lup plants a kiss between Barry’s shoulder blades. “You’re staring, babe.”

“Sorry,” Barry says. “Sorry, Mags, can I...?”

“Knock yourself out,” Magnus chuckles, shifting a little against the mattress. “Is this good, or...?”

“This is good,” Barry says, already down on his hands and knees, already lowering his face to a level with Magnus’s groin. He wants to press his face into the dark curls there, he wants to--

“Oh, I should--” He pauses, takes off his glasses, and finds Lup’s hand waiting for them when he goes to toss them over the side of the bed.

“Thanks babe,” he smiles.

“Dork,” she says.

While she does something responsible with his eyewear, Barry settles himself between Magnus’s outstretched legs, propped up on his elbows just enough for maneuverability, ass in the air, and wraps his fingers around Magnus’s dick.

It isn’t quite a blowjob, he doesn’t have the right angle for it, and he’s actually got a pretty poor gag reflex besides (he’s working on it), but he’s not trying to get Magnus off yet, just trying to make him feel good, get him ready. Magnus makes delightful sounds of encouragement as Barry jacks him idly with his left hand, mouthing at his shaft, his balls. Magnus is a hairy boy, and Barry is more than happy to get all up in that, breathing in the scent of him. When Magnus shifts a bit, hips canting forward involuntarily, Barry takes the opportunity to slide his unoccupied hand under the crook of his raised knee, curls that arm around Magnus’s thigh and holds on.

Lup’s hands are back on him, sliding up his sides, down his back, across his butt. Down the backs of his thighs. He’s long since past being any sort of self-conscious with her, he knows he’s loved, and no longer harbors any doubts concerning the genuine devotion and delight of her touches. And really, the doubts were never with her, always and only with himself. He knows better, now.

She presses lightly on the insides of his knees and he shifts them a little wider, dick bobbing heavy between his legs. Her fingers trace back up his thighs again and then down over the crease of his ass, and Barry is momentarily torn between wanting to push forward into Magnus or back against her steadfast hands.

She doesn’t make him choose. He hears the muttered spells and then her slick fingers are massaging at his hole. He does his best to relax against her, focused on the barely-there pressure as she traces circles into the pucker of his ass, runs her other hand over his balls. He feels like he’s on fire, he’s being burned at both ends and when it reaches his center he’ll combust. He wants to look at Lup’s face, he doesn’t want to stop looking at Magnus.

“How’s he doing, Maggie?” Lup’s voice asks from behind him.

Magnus groans appreciatively. “So fucking good, Barry,” he says. He has his hand on the back of Barry’s head, combing through the ends of Barry’s hair, already curling with sweat. “So fucking good.”

Barry’s fingers flex around Magnus when Lup slips her thumb into his ass, and they seem to sigh in unison, Barry sinking somehow further into the mattress in front of him. That pressure inside him is a relief and a promise and he’s ready, ready, more than ready for it. Lup’s making good on her guarantee to have him well prepped, and Barry almost regrets it because he already badly wants so much more.

But Lup takes her time, sliding her thumb in and out, gently fucking him, playing with him, making sure to catch the pad where it curves against his rim because it drives him crazy and she knows it. He groans and twitches his hips back at her and licks at the head of Magnus’s dick and the salty pre-cum there until Magnus directs him elsewhere.

When Lup replaces her thumb with two slick fingers, Barry works Magnus a little faster, mouth wide and breath heavy against the base of Magnus’s dick, Magnus’s voice a steady murmur above him, the words themselves less important than the cadence, the encouragement, the reassurance of them.

Two fingers, three, but he’s probably going to want four before he takes Magnus’s dick. Barry’s impatient, but not so impatient that he’s willing to rush. He’s not much one for pain with his sex, likes the easy slide of something inside of him. And he’s got to be close . He feels loose, he feels good, he’s pretty sure his dick is leaking on the sheets.

Lup gives him four fingers, and he does his best to fuck himself on them, wanting her deeper, wanting more--

She slips all of her fingers out of him, and for a moment he’s empty, swallows a whine. It’s time, it has to be time, he’s ready .

He feels pressure on either side of his hole as she spreads him open, and then her mouth is on him.

He’s pretty sure the noise he makes could be described as a wail. She licks into him, open mouthed, fucks him with her tongue, sucks at his rim. His dick throbs.

Lup,” he says, trembling against Magnus, against her, eyes screwed tight, her name both a prayer and a warning on his lips.

She gives him a few more broad strokes, and her fingers slide back into him, testing. “Doing so good, baby,” she tells him. His gasps catch in his throat and Magnus brushes damp hair off of his forehead. “So good, Bar, so good for me and Maggie. You ready to get fucked?” she asks.

Barry nods, a little unsteadily.

“Words, babe.”

Yes, please,” he says, eyes closed tightly, face burning.

Please what,” Magnus says, because he’s a dick.

Please Magnus fuck me,” he says, in what could be a growl if it wasn’t so breathless, needy, desperate.

“Oh, alright then.”

You’re gonna have to move, babe, can you turn around for me?” Lup says, petting his hip absently.

Barry groans in protest but extricates himself from Magnus and pushes himself up unsteadily to all fours. He feels a little floaty. Everything smells like sex. Magnus leans forward and down as Barry pushes himself up and he stops when Magnus catches the corner of his mouth in another kiss, turns his face into it. Barry’s mouth is tacky with drool and pre-come and he is very aware of it as Magnus licks his way across his lips, licks into his mouth, the delightful scrape of his stubble a counter to the slide of his tongue. It should probably be disgusting, but it very much isn’t.

There’s a part of Barry that is so tempted to crawl into Magnus’s lap and sink down onto his dick and rock his body against that broad, broad torso, but he knows that would be a bit selfish of him, and he’d also really really like to go down on his girlfriend while he’s getting fucked like they’d talked about, and it’s that sweet promise in the back of his mind that keeps him from acting on the impulse.

Speaking of, “Stop hogging his face, Burnsides, I want a piece of that action,” Lup says.

Magnus stops kissing him to grin back at her, and Barry turns, crawls to her, tilting his face up until she meets him with lips and nose and forehead pressed close, her hands against his face.

“Hi,” he says with a smile.

“Hi,” she says back. She licks into his mouth like Magnus licked into his mouth, like she licked into his ass just moments before and gods above she’s like electricity in his veins, everything he’s ever wanted and more, everything he strives to be worthy of every single day he gets to stand by her side in this unending cyclical existence they share.

Their kiss lasts a heartbeat, or maybe a lifetime of heartbeats, and then she’s pulling away from him, lowering herself back onto the bed, dragging at the pillows behind her. “Down boy,” she says, hand on the back of his neck, bearing him slowly and firmly to rest between her legs. He goes more than willingly, rolling his eyes up at her as she settles her thighs over his shoulders.

Her clit is hard and wet and she guides herself into his eager mouth.

The bed shifts as Magnus shuffles up behind him, and now his hands are repeating the paths that Lup’s had traveled across Barry’s body, getting the feel of him, making him feel. He’s waiting for it when Mangus thumbs over his hole, but his breath still catches, and then he moans as Magnus slips two fingers in easily, bigger and rougher than Lup’s but just as gentle.

“Holy shit do I have the best view in the house,” Lup says. She’s propped on her elbows against the pile of pillows, watching him down the line of her body, watching Magnus behind him. Barry sucks at her, hard, until she throws back her head with a cry.

Magnus adds a third finger inside of him and presses in and around until he finds Barry’s prostate and Barry’s spine bows just a bit lower, body seeking that friction, but instead Magnus pulls out and grips his hips, arranging Barry to his liking. He pauses.

“Alright Barry, you ready?”

Barry hums his answer around Lup’s clit, loathe to stop lavishing her with attention when she’s making such excellent noises, but she pushes at his forehead until he pulls back, gasping, because she likes words.

Yes, fuck, yes, dammit, please just fuck me,” he manages, and then Magnus, never one to need telling twice, is pressing into him, finally, one hand holding Barry open, the other guiding his dick, the head catching ever so briefly as it enters.  Magnus isn’t much longer than Barry himself but he’s thick and he’s Magnus, and Barry’s brain might be melting. It’s almost a perfect slide, he’s so open, so ready, but it still makes him breathless with how full he feels, and Magnus is taking it wonderfully, blissfully slowly.

Barry keens with the intensity of it, licks long stripes up Lup’s clit, manages to get a hand into a decent enough position to massage at her perineum as Magnus bottoms out inside him. He stays like that for a minute, hips bumping against Barry with the most shallow, gentle thrusts as they get used to the feel of each other, until Barry literally can’t stand it anymore.  

“Dammit Magnus, move ,” he breathes against Lup, “ Please please just fuck me , Magnus, please --”

With a choked off laugh, Magnus does start moving, like Barry is made of fucking glass. He pulls out inch by leisurely inch, pushing back in with just as much unhurried intent, and repeats. He fucks Barry slow and he fucks him deliberate and the drag of his dick is so sweet inside of Barry that they’re both shaking with it after only a few turns. Barry looks up, and Lup has a hand on one of her breasts and her eyes are locked on the two them in front of her, half lidded and intense. He strokes his free hand up her side, reverent but also grounding as he pants against her, head cradled in the crook of her hip, tongue lapping at her clit.

“Mags, Maggie,” Lup croons into the heavy air as Magnus fills Barry up once more, “Mango my man, a suggestion if I may.”

“Shoot,” Magnus says as he stops, and Barry lets slip a groan of protest, because no, please, keep moving, why.

“Barry likes, ah! Patience, love,” she says as Barry does his best to distract her with his mouth in revenge. “Barold likes a lot of skin to skin contact when he’s fucked,” she tells Magnus. Barry swallows her down. “ Ahhh , to be held, ya know? If you can manage that without crushing both of us, I mean.”

Magnus scoffs. “Hell yeah I can,” he says. He shifts forward, plants a hand on the bed next to Barry for support and drapes himself over Barry’s back, solid, slicked with sweat, but somehow not suffocating. He’s still buried in Barry’s ass though and the movement makes Barry stutter his words as he grins up at his girlfriend.

“L-lookin’ out for me, babe?”

“Always, babe,” she grins back.

Magnus gets himself settled, balanced, and then wraps his other arm around Barry’s chest, and gods, that’s so much, they’re all so close -- Lup’s knees are knocking up against Magnus’s shoulders and she lets her legs fall open a little wider to accommodate the new arrangement as Magnus starts fucking Barry again, not nearly as slowly as before.

It’s so fucking good.

Barry’s girlfriend is a genius and he owes her all of the orgasms.

It takes some starts and stops, but they find a rhythm together, Magnus, Lup, and Barry between them.

Magnus quickens his thrusts.

Lup gets a hand in Barry’s hair.

She plants her feet and cants her hips and fucks his face and it’s perfect perfect perfect--

“Fuck baby, so fucking good, so good for me, such a good fucking mouth--” she’s saying, and he pants and moans around her, loves the feel of her in his mouth, loves her strong thighs around his head, loves how every one of Magnus’s thrusts pushes him forward onto her clit, loves the velvet slide of it against his tongue.

Magnus is fucking into him like he means it, that arm firm around Barry’s torso flexing in time with the rapid snap of his hips to drag Barry back onto his dick and Lup has got his mouth right where she wants it and Barry is more than happy to let her use him, to surrender himself to her pleasure, every tug of her fingers against his scalp sending electricity coursing down his spine.

He stops thinking entirely, cuts himself loose, lets himself drift, delve, drown in the current crashing around him, through him, and the world is nothing but the delicious friction of skin on skin and the overwhelming swell of emotion he feels for these people in his bed, which is to say that it is everything, everything, everything all at once and Barry is nothing in the face of it.

He loses himself to the moment. He can think of much worse places to be lost.

The rising cadence of Lup’s voice eventually cuts through the bliss haze in his brain. “ Babe babe babe --” she’s chanting, in that urgent staccato way she does when she’s close. “Gonna fucking come, babe, babe--”

“Fuck, Lup,” Magnus swears, and Barry knows what he means. He’s watched Lup through enough orgasms and they’re all etched into his memory, golden. He’s ready for her when she arches, stills, trembles, her body trying to hold on to the edge of that moment and ride it out, head thrown back, mouth open but silent--

She’s gorgeous in everything she does, this is no exception, and Barry will never get tired of watching her.

He pulls off when she finally goes boneless and whines at him. He presses kisses to her inner thigh that are less delicate than he intends them to be as Magnus continues fucking into him, and Barry’s composure is slowly unraveling.

He’s so hard it almost hurts, and he’s so close to the edge, but he just can’t get over it. He’s come untouched before, but it’s always a hit or miss kind of thing and Barry doesn’t know if he has it in him today. There’s a moment, and then another, and another, where he almost has it and he thought for sure once he stopped focusing on Lup he’d get there, but he doesn’t come, can’t come, he needs to come , and he sobs into Lup’s lap in frustration as each of those moments pass him.

“You okay baby?” she asks, sitting up and curling toward him, languid fingers running tender through his sweat-damp hair.

“I-- ” He is and he isn’t and he wants but the words keep slipping from his mind as his body focuses on that heat and pressure inside of him, reaching, reaching for the precipice.

“You need a little help love?” she asks, drowsy and affectionate. “Want me to touch you?”

Gods, please.

P-please ,” he chokes out, “Please Lu, please--”

“Ok. You wanna turn over, baby?”

He doesn’t want to move, he doesn’t want to change positions, he’s so close, he just needs a hand, doesn’t want Magnus to stop. He can’t say any of this because the words won’t go together right, won’t line up in his brain, and his face is pressed hard into Lup’s thigh but somehow, somehow she still understands.

“Can we get me under him?” she asks Magnus.

Barry tries to tell his hands to push himself up, any second now they’ll listen to him, but then Mangus lifts him up enough that Lup can shimmy under him, legs spread wide around his knees where they hold him up against the bed to get as close as possible, and as Magnus lowers him back down again he’s lowered on top of her, she sighs and he feels it with his whole self and he buries his face in her neck and she kisses his head as she reaches between them to get a hand on him.

It doesn’t take long, the scent of her hair where it falls across his face, the warmth of her body against his, one, two, three twists of her clever fingers around him, and Barry is gone.

He’s sure he yells, pretty sure he hears Magnus cursing beautifully as Barry clenches around him, but Barry also whites out and for a few euphoric, extended moments all the world is wrapped in cotton, muffled and distant and soft. He’s vaguely aware of being moved, but he chases that cotton feeling because it’s good, so good, and he’s safe here with Magnus and Lup and that safety and this moment are all that matters.

When he comes back to himself he’s sprawled halfway across Lup’s lap, her legs are crossed and his arms are loosely draped around her waist and she’s got one hand tracing lazy patterns across his shoulders and another hand on Magnus, who has curled himself around them both, propped on a hand, leaning into Lup’s side.

They’re kissing, a languid tangle of lips and tongues, but Lup’s hand on him is deft and quick and Magnus makes sharp, almost wounded noises against her mouth as she brings him off, and it isn’t long before he shudders, comes over her fingers with a groan. She strokes him through it and if Barry had any sort of energy left he’d be tempted to offer to clean up the mess they make, but that isn’t happening tonight.

There’s always next time, anyway.

Magnus drops his head against Lup’s shoulder as she wipes her fingers off on his abs.

“Thanks,” Magnus deadpans.

“I’ll clean it up in a second,” she assures him.

And then Magnus notices Barry’s eyes on him.

“Hey you,” he says, smiling.

“Oh hey babe, you decided to come back to us?” Lup says, running a hand through his hair. Barry nuzzles contentedly into her stomach. “How you feeling, Bar?” she asks.

Perfect, Barry thinks. He is perfect. Tired, sweaty, just a bit sore, in the best way. Fucking amazing.

“Good,” he mumbles. “Sleepy.”

“Let me clean up a bit and we’ll cuddle,” she says fondly. “You staying for the cuddle party, Mags?”

“Do you even know me?” Magnus says.

Barry has to imagine the grin she flashes him in response, because he can’t keep his eyes open.

“Do something with those, then,” he hears her say, and then the mutter of a prestidigitation spell, and the shifting of fabric against fabric that is Magnus arranging the multitude of pillows they keep on their bed.

All the world is soft, and Barry doesn’t resist drifting.

“--he’s out of it, isn’t he?” Barry hears someone say, and he thinks maybe he’s also heard his name being said, maybe more than once, without really realizing it.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, and thinks about making an effort to open his eyes.

“You’re good, Bar, we got you,” Lup says above him.

“Here.” Barry feels the bed shift as a body gets up, and then there are strong arms sliding around him, rolling him over, lifting him at the knees and shoulders, and Barry isn’t used to being manhandled, but it’s weirdly nice, comforting. He could get used to it.

Magnus lays him down amidst the pillows and the bed dips again as he climbs onto it after him.

Barry could definitely get used to this.

“Show-off,” Lup teases, and Magnus chuckles. She joins them, throwing herself into the pillow pile, and Barry rolls toward her onto his side, blindly reaching for her. She cuddles up against the front of him, tangling their legs together, cradling his head against her shoulder.

“Love you,” he breathes against her collarbone.

“Love you too, Bar,” she says.

“Love you too, Mags,” he says, because he does, even if it isn’t quite the same way he loves Lup.

“Love you too, Barry,” Magnus says, in a voice that might be humoring him, but that’s okay. Barry will just tell him again later. Make him understand.

“C’mon Maggie,” Lup says, “Get in on this sweet cuddle action, and grab that blanket if you would.”

“This one here?”

Magnus lays himself down behind Barry, spooning him from behind, his body a furnace against Barry’s rapidly chilling skin, and then there’s a blanket thrown over them, that sort of threadbare but still super soft one they’ve somehow managed to keep since cycle three, and Magnus’s arm across his waist, and Lup’s lips against his forehead, and Barry between them both, his body heavy with sleep.

It feels like home.