“No,” Wyatt said. “No, no n—do you have any idea how disrespectful this is? To the uniform, to the men who’ve died, to—do neither of you feel any sense of—guilt, of propriety, of…”
His voice died away as it quickly became clear that neither Lucy nor Flynn cared one bit about ‘disrespect’. Instead they both looked at one another, then looked at him, then back to one another.
“Yeah, nope, I’m not really feeling any guilt,” Flynn said. “You?”
“Nah,” Lucy replied. “Not really.”
They looked at him with twin smiles of false innocence.
Wyatt groaned. “I’m going to regret every moment of this.”
“I still say that if any of my old buddies find out they’re going to hang, draw, and quarter me,” Wyatt grumbled.
Lucy sighed. “Sweetheart, your old buddies have probably been fucked in their uniform a dozen times over by now. I think they’re more likely to buy you a beer.”
“Planning to enjoy your day off, Agent Christopher?” Wyatt asked.
Denise arched an eyebrow at him. “Yes. I am. We’re having a beach day.”
“Great.” Wyatt grinned. “Tell Michelle happy birthday for us.”
Denise’s eyes narrowed. “You know, you’re the fourth person to tell me that.”
“What? We can’t be happy for your wife’s birthday?”
“Let’s just say I’m surprised you all are remembering it when Lucy managed to literally forget her own birthday and Rufus was panicking last week because he couldn’t remember what day his anniversary with Jiya was.”
“Maybe we’re just all so eager to show our appreciation of you,” Wyatt hazarded. “After, you know, almost—well. Yeah. That.”
Denise hummed but didn’t seem convinced. “All right. Let me know if the Mothership jumps. Otherwise, you’re all on your own.”
The moment she was gone, Mason dove for the computer table where Jiya was, hastily booking a flight. “There is a jazz concert in Paris that I have to attend. Don’t worry, I still have some friends who are distinctly not Rittenhouse, I’ll be perfectly safe. See you all in a day or so!”
Once he was gone, Rufus and Jiya looked at Wyatt. “I suppose you three have something horribly disgusting and sexual planned now that Mom and Dad are away,” Rufus said, deadpan.
Wyatt was pretty sure he was blushing redder than the emergency lights. “Uh…”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Rufus sighed. “Jiya, my love, what do you say we take a trip to Hollywood say, a year after we went before and I can introduce you to Hedy?”
Wyatt breathed a sigh of relief. The bunker was going to be theirs alone.
When the cat’s away and all of that…
Wyatt breathed very carefully.
Mentally, he was in a bit of a weird spot.
He wasn’t an actor, as anyone who’d seen him try to lie on the spot during their missions could attest. But he couldn’t just go into this with the mindset he usually had during a real, actual shoot-and-destroy. Those times his mind sort of checked out, operated on a different level, everything focused in on fight, destroy, fight, destroy.
It was kind of disturbing when he thought about it.
But if he went into that total mindset, of course, well… look, Hollywood and porn and whoever else could say otherwise all they wanted but no guy on a goddamn actual mission infiltrating a bunker was going to just drop everything for a pretty girl or guy. People didn’t register as human to you anymore. There were targets, assets, and enemies. That was all.
So no, he couldn’t just jump into this with his actual soldier mindset.
But if he thought too much about what he was doing he was going to just start laughing out of sheer embarrassment and die.
Hence, the weird spot.
Just think of it like a mission, Logan, he told himself. The mission is to make Garcia and Lucy have to actually work for it.
Instead of, you know, Flynn winking at him or Lucy batting her eyes at him, which was usually all it took for Wyatt to go from zero to yes sir/ma’am I’ll give you whatever you damn well please.
Okay. Mission, make his partners actually work to fuck him for once.
He doublechecked the gun. Empty. Still had to treat it like it was loaded—that was the first thing he’d learned in weapons training. “Every gun is loaded.” He could still hear the sergeant’s voice in his head, saying that, whenever he picked up a gun.
Okay. Weapons were unloaded, clips emptied, safeties on, etc. He actually didn’t have on quite as much gear as he normally did (it was a bitch to take them all on and off and Lucy was not known for her patience in the bedroom). He was as ready as he was ever going to be.
He opened the bunker from the outside by hacking in with one of Jiya’s devices rather than swiping his keycard, triggering the silent alarm. That would be the cue to Flynn and Lucy that he’d entered and they should get ready.
He’d told them not to tell him where they’d be in the bunker. He needed a bit of an element of surprise to this or he’d never be able to stay in the moment.
Oh, wait, needed to make sure his camera wasn’t actually on.
Phew. That would’ve been awkward.
Okay. If this was a bunker he was actually infiltrating and didn’t know anything about, he’d assume that everyone was in the common area. He’d want to hit that last, eliminating possible stragglers in the other rooms and getting a better understanding of what was in each room before diving right into the hornets’ nest.
Wyatt checked the first room, the one he knew to actually be Rufus and Jiya’s. Nothing in there, although he wasn’t surprised—neither Lucy nor Flynn was suicidal enough to risk shenanigans in Rufus and Jiya’s domain. Rufus might just complain about it for a week but Jiya would literally kill them with a rusty spoon.
Next was Flynn’s old room, now used for storage.
“Clear,” Wyatt said to himself automatically.
The next room, Mason’s, was slightly ajar.
Now, that could have just been because Mason was literally sprinting out of the bunker to get to his flight on time, or…
Wyatt triple-checked that his guns weren’t loaded because he was a paranoid sonofabitch and not about to shoot either of his spouses, even accidentally.
Then he opened the door.
Lucy bit her lip, watching from the bed as Wyatt eased open the door. Ever since she and Flynn had seen the video of Wyatt infiltrating the Rittenhouse HQ in his Delta Force gear, they’d wanted to do something like this.
He looked hot as fuck. Five feet eleven inches of badass, all wrapped up in a very pretty package.
Lucy wouldn’t have called herself an actress once upon a time, but after lying so often on missions, she liked to think she’d gotten a hang for it. Even if she’d never win an award.
She went back to kissing Flynn like she had all the time left in the world.
Mason was going to kill them if he ever found out she and Flynn had made out on his bed but what Mason didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right?
She knew the moment Wyatt saw them because she heard his feet stumble to a halt. Then he cleared his throat.
Lucy pulled back as if startled. “Oh.”
Flynn did a pretty damn good job of looking startled too. He reached for the bedside drawer, as if for a gun—which wasn’t there anyway—but that movement was enough to kick in Wyatt’s instincts. He trained his unloaded gun on Flynn. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Oh, fuck yes. Lucy had to work hard to keep herself from grinning.
“Please don’t,” she pleaded, batting her eyelashes just a bit for good measure.
Wyatt gave what looked like a long-suffering sigh. “Look, we can pretend I didn’t see you, just—clear out, all right?”
Lucy tilted her head, as if just recognizing how very pretty he was. “Is it just you?”
“Um…” Wyatt looked wrongfooted. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“Well, it is…” Lucy slid off Flynn and got to her feet. “…if you’ve got teammates who might be looking for you. I’d hate for someone to come in and interrupt us.”
“From convincing you to switch sides.” Lucy flashed him a sweet smile.
“It pays better,” Flynn added.
Wyatt just barely managed to hold in his snort of laughter. “Why would I switch sides?”
“Better looking coworkers?” Lucy suggested.
“Appreciation?” Flynn said. His gaze dragged, hot and slow, over Wyatt’s form. “I can think of a few damn good uses for you.”
“You got a compelling argument?” Wyatt asked, still sounding not so convinced.
Flynn walked over, took Wyatt’s face in his hands, and planted one on him.
Wyatt immediately went pliant, pressing up into Flynn, instinct and habit overriding any plans Wyatt might have had. When Flynn pulled back a minute or so later, Wyatt looked like someone had given him a shot and then smacked him in the back of the head.
“…I’ll say that was compelling,” he managed to choke out.
Lucy sauntered up to him, not even bothering with subtlety—she just slid her hand down to cup him through his pants, squeezing and then starting to rub in a slow concentric circle. “There’s so much fun we could have together.”
Flynn took the gun from Wyatt’s hand—Wyatt didn’t even seem to notice since it gave Lucy the chance to press herself up against him, kissing the corner of his mouth. “We’ll make it very worth your while.”
Wyatt drew in a shaky breath. Lucy smirked, keeping up the motions of her hand but nothing more, teasing. Flynn seemed to decide to take the last of Wyatt’s hesitation and snap it in half, because he used two fingers to turn Wyatt’s face towards him, brushing his nose against Wyatt’s, then their mouths together, then flicking his tongue against the seam of Wyatt’s mouth.
“Fuck,” Wyatt whispered empathetically.
Then he lunged forward and kissed Flynn.
Lucy laughed, starting right in on the insane amount of buckles and snaps that kept this outfit together. She got the vest off, then the gloves, and then the helmet.
Wyatt pulled back from Flynn, gasping for breath, and Lucy let Flynn take care of undoing Wyatt’s pants while she took her turn kissing him.
“Oh, we’re going to ruin you,” she whispered gleefully, dropping little kisses all over his mouth. “Going to mess you right up.”
Wyatt shuddered, and Lucy saw that Flynn had gotten his hand down Wyatt’s pants. She felt heat pooling between her legs, her underwear getting damp as she watched Flynn’s hand working up and down underneath the fabric, getting Wyatt hard and making him squirm.
She got up on her tiptoes to whisper in Flynn’s ear. “Keep him as dressed as possible.”
This had been a fantastic idea.
Wyatt thought he might fall over. He was hot under the collar, literally, the outfit confining him and making everything feel so much more, somehow, making him squirm. He knew he’d probably given in far too easily but he was just glad the thinking part of this was over—now he could just give in and let Lucy and Flynn do whatever they pleased.
To his surprise, Flynn and Lucy didn’t seem inclined to get him more undressed than he already was, their hands roaming under his clothes instead.
They stumbled a bit down the hallway, heading to their bedroom, shedding Flynn’s and Lucy’s clothes along the way. Lucy dropped the bits of Wyatt’s gear that she deigned to take off him somewhere in the hallway as well. He didn’t see where they dropped, but Flynn’s tongue was in his mouth and Lucy’s hands were down his pants and so he found that he didn’t care.
Lucy took over kissing him, shoving him back down onto the bed and straddling him, grinding against him to show him how wet she was as Flynn went to the bedside drawer. Wyatt found himself yanked to his feet again, pressed against Flynn, who wrapped an arm around his waist and then slid his hand down Wyatt’s pants.
Wyatt groaned, clutching at Flynn, feeling a slick finger circling his entrance. He pushed back into it, whining a little when Flynn just kept teasing him.
“Mmm, patience,” Flynn murmured. “We’ll take care of you.”
“So eager,” Lucy said. Her voice was breathy and Wyatt had no doubt that if he turned around he’d find her touching herself. “What do you think, hmm? Flynn? So many things we can do…”
Flynn slipped his finger inside and Wyatt had to drop his head down onto Flynn’s shoulder, panting and squirming back into the touch.
Suddenly he was spun around, Lucy catching his hands and pulling him to her, Flynn shoving his pants down and putting a firm hand between Wyatt’s shoulder blades and pushing him down until he bent over, braced to hover over Lucy but with Flynn standing just behind him, looming.
Lucy took his face in her hands, kissing all over his face, down his neck, just below his ear, his throat, dodging him when he tried to kiss her on the mouth. Flynn’s hands slid down his back to his ass, and then without warning there was a light smack to his ass.
Wyatt jerked and a tiny moan escaped him before he could cut it off. He felt Lucy grin against his cheek, and heard Flynn’s delighted chuckle.
“We knew you’d like that,” Lucy whispered in his ear.
Flynn spanked him again and Wyatt let himself moan this time, his vision blurring.
“Once more,” Lucy instructed Flynn. Wyatt shuddered and let out another groan as Flynn spanked him a final time before he kissed the top of Wyatt’s spine and began to slowly kiss his way down.
Wyatt thought he knew where Flynn was headed and the anticipation made him shake, Lucy laughing and sliding her hands under his shirt, raking her nails down his chest, catching on his nipples and causing an extra shot of pleasure to make his cock jerk, slick precome sliding down the head.
Lucy didn’t waste a second with that, wrapping her hand around him and stroking slowly, loosely, teasing. Flynn reached Wyatt’s tailbone and as Wyatt had suspected kept going, licking around Wyatt’s hole and then twisting in and out, lapping and corkscrewing until Wyatt could feel his spine falling apart bit by bit.
“Wyatt,” Lucy said softly. “Look at me.”
He hadn’t even realized that he’d closed his eyes. He forced them to open, staring at Lucy. She took his chin in her hand and tilted his head down, then let go, making him watch as she stroked his cock with one hand and fingered herself with the other.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Flynn hummed, pulling back, and Wyatt barely registered the sound of the lube uncapping before he felt Flynn’s long, thick fingers sliding into him.
“Oh fuck,” he spat.
Lucy laughed like velvet. “We’ve wanted to do this for ages, you’ve got to let us have our fun.” She sat up, flicking her tongue at his ear. “See how much fun it is, being bad?”
Flynn’s fingers slid out of him, and then Wyatt felt Flynn’s cock nudging in their place.
“In me,” Lucy whispered, combing her fingers through Wyatt’s hair, her mouth right at his ear. “Get in me, soldier boy.”
He understood what they were doing and the room spun. Oh, God, he wasn’t going to last long. “Yes ma’am,” he replied, shifting so that he could get the right angle to slide inside her.
Lucy’s head fell back and he took the opportunity to lick at her pulse point before latching on and sucking, using that hint of teeth that made Lucy sigh happily and press into the touch. He started moving slow but steady, wanting to work up to speed, to get rough and fast at the end but beginning with deep, hard strokes.
Flynn’s hands clasped his hips, and then he was sliding into Wyatt, slow but unrelenting. Wyatt bit down a little harder on Lucy inadvertently, but she just squirmed happily and gave a tiny mewl of pleasure. Wyatt kept moving, and after a minute of letting him adjust, he felt Flynn starting to move as well, timing his thrusts to move forward when Wyatt moved back.
Wyatt could feel his mind sliding away like water down a hill. He didn’t know which was better, thrusting forward into Lucy’s slick tight heat or thrusting back into Flynn’s thick, hard cock, especially when Flynn got the angle right and Wyatt could feel that sparking feeling run down from between his legs all the way down to his toes.
It was heat and pressure and pleasure from both ends, back and forth and back and forth until he couldn’t feel anything else, didn’t know anything else, just driving mindlessly forward towards the pit he knew he was about to fall into.
Lucy was clinging to him, her nails scoring his chest and his back even through the fabric, her mouth hungry and clinging to his skin as she kissed him everywhere she could reach, her hips twisting into his thrusts. Flynn’s mouth was hot on the back of Wyatt’s neck, hitting that perfect spot unerringly, his hands digging into Wyatt’s hips and keeping him from escaping the sensations for even a second.
They were using him, wringing their own pleasure from him, and Wyatt was just being dragged along for the ride—but what a ride, assaulted in every way, his lungs and legs burning as he struggled not to give into the pleasure too soon.
Flynn’s thrusts became erratic, speeding up, and Wyatt inhaled sharply as Flynn bit down on the back of his neck and fucked into him uncontrollably, shoving himself all the way in and coming, giving Wyatt that debauched feeling.
It was enough to push him right to the edge. Lucy writhed uncontrollably under him, actively chasing her climax, her breath loud in his ear. Flynn’s come was sliding down the inside of Wyatt’s thighs, and Lucy was clenching around him, and then oh fuck Flynn was licking at the spot where he’d bit Wyatt and spanked him a final time and Jesus—
He came and that set Lucy off, biting on his ear and becoming impossibly tight around him, making him shudder through the last bit of his orgasm.
He tried to speak but the only thing that came out was a kind of croak.
“Mmmm.” Lucy reached up and cupped his cheek as Flynn held him up and kept him from falling. “So very sexy.”
Wyatt slumped to the side, guided by Flynn, who then collapsed on Wyatt’s other side. “I’ve changed my mind,” Wyatt panted. “You can fuck me in this any time you like.”
“I knew we’d convince you,” Flynn said, sounding far too smug and energetic for someone who’d just come.
“Yeah, yeah, you guys were right, rub it in… but on one condition.”
“Oh?” Lucy asked, turning her head to look at him.
“You guys are helping me out of this, I don’t think I can move.”
Lucy laughed as Flynn mock-groaned. “Work, work, work, work, work.”
“Oh yeah, I’m so bossy. Always giving orders.”
“Watch it, Master Sergeant, I’ll make you drop and give me…”
“Go on. Give you what?”
“I think you know what.”
“Boys, boys, boys.”
“So,” Mason said, stepping around the tactical vest and Lucy’s nightgown on the floor, staring at Lucy, Wyatt, and Flynn as they stood in their towels, fresh from the shower. “You don’t tell about my jetting off to Paris, and I won’t tell about whatever insane debauchery you three got up to. Fair?”
“Our lips are sealed.”