|Maella Abbey (maella_abbey) wrote,|
@ 2008-03-28 22:18:00
|Entry tags:||2008:march, character:angelo, character:eight, character:jessica, community:ides_of_march, dragon quest viii, length:500-1000 words, pairing:eight/jessica/angelo|
[Fic] Mending Fences, Eight/Jessica/Angelo
Title: Mending Fences
Fandom: Dragon Quest VIII
Rating: Not Worksafe
Word Count: 663
Written For: ides_of_march (Prompt 11: Emotions)
Summary: The celebration at Trodain ends in porn, as is right and proper.
He's a little drunk - they all are, it would be a poor celebration otherwise - and Jessica is laughing, her earlier anger apparently forgotten. That she's laughing with Eight is of little import; she's happy again, or too drunk to care, and that means it's safe to approach her.
Or perhaps not. Angelo sobers as if splashed with cold water when he draws near enough to see how Eight's hand vanishes beneath her skirt, how she sprawls wantonly against his chest and squirms against his hidden touch. Angelo stares for long moments, not even hurt, as if he's forgotten how to feel. He thinks he wants to be angry, save Jessica has never given him cause to think she cares for him; his conviction she'll one day yield to his charms is solely the product of is own imaginings.
Eventually, Eight looks up and sees him, grins in what Angelo first takes to be triumph. It's only when Eight reaches out with his free hand, beckoning him closer, that he realizes the grin is invitation, and that Jessica is watching him from beneath her lowered lids.
"Wondered when you'd join us." Eight's voice is slurred; he's never been much for drink, but then, Angelo can't imagine him doing any of this sober. "Jess thought..."
"I was afraid I'd scared you off." Jessica's fingers touch, feather light, where her fireball struck him earlier, as if she fears she did him real damage.
Angelo catches her hand and kisses it. "No harm done."
"Good. You wouldn't be much use injured."
She's smiling, eyes wide and dark, and when he cups her breast she presses against his hand. Angelo wonders if she'll remember any of this come morning.
The gardens - no longer overgrown tangles beset by monsters - are far from empty, but still more private than the feast tables. Angelo coaxes the other two along with kisses, guides them with intimate touches, until they're alone save for the grass beneath their feet and the moonlight spilling over them. He helps them undress, as much because his hands are more deft as for stole caresses, and lets them occupy each other while he strips himself.
His cock aches at the sight of their lean limbs tangled together; he could nearly come just from looking at them.
He draws a deep breath, controls himself, and settles behind Jessica. She gasps and shudders when he slides a hand between her legs to touch her wet heat, whimpers when he moves his hand to where Eight's cock is trapped between their bodies. He strokes, curls his fingers around; selfish of him, he knows, but Eight doesn't seem to care that he's pressing up into Angelo's fist rather than Jessica.
Angelo kisses the back of Jessica's neck as he eases into her, and the sound she makes nearly undoes him, even without her body tightening around his cock. Eight's breathing goes ragged; Angelo sweeps his thumb over the fluid beading at the tip of his cock, then down, stroking a slick line along the thick vein, and feels Eight pulse in his hand, his release hot and stick on their skin.
Eight softens, and Angelo releases him, moves his hand to the muscular thigh. Eight's still pressed as tight to Jessica's front as Angelo is to her back, and now the caresses he's been stroking over her body stray to include Angelo as well.
Jessica makes a noise and pushes back against Angelo, hard, demanding, close. Angelo closes his eyes and focuses, catches her rhythm.
She shudders abruptly, tightens around him; Angelo's suspicion that Eight is behind her reaction is confirmed a moment later, when a questing hand brushes against Angelo's balls, strong fingers kneading until what thought remains to him shatters. He pulls Jessica close against him, her body still pulsing, tightening, until he spills himself within her.
They're still together in a tangle of arms and legs when the sun finally edges over the castle walls.