Work Text:
He sits in the corner, his tie undone as he swirls his glass of bourbon, eyes watching the scene in front of him unfold as though it's the scene in a movie being filmed before a whole production crew. The acting though, he knows, isn't just acting. He takes a swig of his drink, setting the glass down on the arm as he pulls at the top button on his dress shirt, wincing as he watches her back rise off the bed, back arching up in pleasure as one hand pushes the head of the man between his wife's legs further into her cunt.
Part of him wants to look away, but he knows they would just continue, just the same way they always do. They would sneak off to one of the other rooms, barely making it through the doorway as Chris would push himself past her folds, fucking her against the wall. She would grab hold of him as though her life depended upon it, their wet kissing would fill the room with sound just as much as the sound of balls slapping against her skin. She'd make that little whimper she makes when you get just the right angle, and Chris would latch onto her neck, leaving a mark.
"You watching, baby?" He hears her voice, and as he glances over at the bed, he takes in the way her leg is thrown over Chris' back, opening her up even more for Chris to fit between. Chris' fingers are pumping in and out and he can see the way she's somehow wetter than he's ever witnessed during their own sessions. But maybe it serves him right, honestly. With Chris she has primal, lust-induced sex where they're both practically intoxicated in one another's presence. They can barely wait to rip one another's clothes off of each other.
Hell, he remembers what that could feel like, he'd had that chemistry with Sutton.
He shifts in the seat, his wife is gorgeous and they do have a connection that's special to the both of them. They wouldn't have made it as long as they have (despite the rumors of the times they've almost gotten divorced, they were addicted to one another) if they didn't have a connection. But watching her with Chris, there's something about it that sets his nerves on edge. They have this agreement to ensure that things don't get deeper than they already are.
He's almost positive that she would run away with Chris if he asked her to.
"Flip over, Mackie." Chris is probably the only man on earth that can order Mariska to do anything. The only man she'd listen to. She doesn't listen when he tells her to do things.
Peter watches as his wife turns over, pushing herself up on her hands and knees, she moves her ass in the air as Chris holds himself and runs his cock along her folds, pushing through and into her. She lets out a groan, her head falling down onto the pillows, "Fuck Chris, that's nice."
"You said that yesterday too," Chris responds to her. Peter clenches his jaw.
"Been sneaking around again, Mariska?" Peter finally asks from the chair, shifting to sit forward, watching as Chris freezes, his cock buried deep in Mariska's pussy, "Feel like sharing? How often?"
She closes her eyes, biting down on her bottom lip as she reaches between her legs, pressing small circles against her clit as Chris fucks into her, "You get this, baby." She opens her eyes, speaking directly to him as she's fucked by a cock that she's not married to for life, but its the one she wants to be fucked with as often as possible. She wants the safety and security and family Peter provides to her, but she wants the sex, the friendship, the innate understanding that comes with the man burying his cock in her at the moment. She wants her cake, and she wants to eat it too.
"We agreed, twice a month you can watch." She pants out, fingers split in a peace sign as Chris' cock goes between her fingers and he lets out a small appreciative groan, pulling out before slamming back into her. Her mouth falling open, "You get to watch twice a month and when we go places, I dress conservatively."
That was the agreement. She's not wrong, and she has kept up her end of the bargain. He turns his head to look out the window as her moans get louder and the sound of their bodies colliding fills the room.
She can have her cake and eat it too... all the time, and if there's one thing Mariska is good at, it's negotiating.
"Gonna fill you up, make you drip down your legs, Mack."
It's almost sickening, and sometimes, Peter thinks about throwing in the towel, walking away from this. Away from them. But when Chris is around, he benefits as well. She takes better care of herself, she's a better mother, a better wife, a better girlfriend. She's brighter, happier, and if there's one thing he can't hate Chris for, it's for somehow having the key that unlocks her happiness.
She's radiant as he watches her cunt clamp down on the cock that belongs to her best friend. With one final thrust, he watches as Chris falls over her back, kissing her skin. Peter knows now that they'll bask in one another's presence, that there will be a second round and it will be more passionate. They'll make love when he leaves the room.
So, he gathers up his jacket, and finishes off his liquor, slamming the glass down on the table.
"Bye Karl." Chris calls, pulling out of Mariska as she falls forward onto the bed, satisfied. That's when Peter watches as Chris goes to the bathroom to get a warm washcloth.
He pulls the door shut, silently.
End.