Sara (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scripted_sra) wrote2012-08-27 06:00 pm
scripted_sra) wrote2012-08-27 06:00 pm
Burn Notice | Between Past and Present Tense | NC-17 | Sam/Michael/Fiona (Part VI of VII)
Title: Between Past and Present Tense (VI/VII)
Fandom: Burn Notice
Rating: NC-17 (for this part)
Pairing: Sam/Michael/Fiona (in this part)
Warnings: For this part: Sex.
Summary: "But in this career path, relationships and self-identity are not prioritized. While spies are trained to be able to ingratiate themselves with others, fooling strangers is a long way from the honesty and communication that people in relationships tend to expect. Combined with an emotionally stunted bedrock, navigating these waters can be ill-advised at best and downright dangerous at worst, often with little hope of success." And yet, despite everything, Michael Westen finds himself trying anyway.
Word Count: 5,950 (for this part)
Disclaimer: All copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. This work is not created for profit and constitutes fair use.
A/N: See the masterpost for the full information.
VI.
“Michael, I want to talk,” Fi said, and Michael had a hard time not letting his wary expression show.
He glanced at Sam, who shook his head, holding up his hands. “I’m gone,” he said, standing.
“No, Sam, sit back down. I might need to talk to you too.”
This time Sam glanced at him, as if to say, What the hell did I do?
Michael only shrugged. “What do you want to talk about?” he asked cautiously.
“Something Larry said to me,” she said, then shook her head. “No, more the way he said it. It made me curious. The two of you—when you worked together, I mean—were involved in some way, weren’t you, Michael? Some sort of liaison?”
Michael stared. Sam blew out a breath. “Oh boy,” he said, standing again. “If we’re talking about this, I’m getting a beer.”
“Then I am right,” she said as Sam pulled a beer out of the fridge. “And you knew, Sam?”
“Believe me, I wish I didn’t.”
“But of course you did—you knew Michael back then.”
“I knew Larry, too,” he said.
“Sam and Larry never got along,” said Michael absently.
“That’s because he’s a psychopath, Mikey.”
“Not arguing with you, Sam.” Michael shook his head. “I didn’t know the full extent of…Larry, back then. He seemed…saner.”
“Which still isn’t saying a lot,” Sam muttered.
Fi looked at him expectantly, clearly wanting him to go on. “I did know enough, though. I even knew he was manipulating me to a certain degree. I just didn’t care.”
“And Larry’s always been obsessed with Mike.”
“I wouldn’t say obsessed with—”
“I would. You never saw how possessive he’d get when you weren’t around.”
“Possessive? Interesting,” said Fi, fixing Sam with an unreadable expression. It made Michael wary and it wasn’t even aimed at him.
“Uh, yeah, or creepy, that’s the word I’d use,” Sam said, not looking at her.
“I meant that he directed it at you,” she said. “Generally someone only does that toward a person they perceive as a threat.”
Sam sent him a look. Michael shrugged again.
“Yeah, I guess…” he said slowly.
“Were you?” she asked. Her expression seemed to be aiming for innocent, which he decided worked roughly as well as a gun with a disabled trigger assembly.
“Was I what?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.
“A threat.” She smiled sweetly.
“Uh,” he said.
“Eloquent, Sam,” Michael muttered.
“You were, weren’t you?” Fi asked, smirking. “You and Michael slept together.”
“To be fair, in those days, I slept with everyone,” Sam protested, and Michael snorted. That was true enough. “It wasn’t anything serious.”
She looked at him. Michael shrugged. “He’s right. It only happened, what, three times? Four?”
“Something like that.”
“Interesting,” she said again, clasping her hands together thoughtfully. “Do you miss it?”
Sam choked on his beer. Michael was just glad he hadn’t been drinking anything.
“What?” Sam asked, just half a second before he did.
“You heard me. Do you miss it? Have you been tempted?” She leaned in. “Or even given into temptation?”
“We haven’t—” Michael started, but stopped, not sure how to finish that sentence. Slept together since he came to Miami? That was true enough. Thought about it again? That was less true, at least on his end.
“We haven’t?” Fi prompted, looking interested.
“Given into anything. If there’s even anything to give into.”
He looked at the floor. It was better than trying to look at either Sam or Fi.
“Of course there is,” Fi said, sounding absurdly practical for what they were discussing. “Two reasonably healthy, reasonably attractive men who have a history, working in close proximity with one another? There’s something there to give into, Michael. The point of this discussion is to figure out exactly what.”
“Fi, seriously, what are you getting at here?” Sam asked, and Michael chanced a glance up. “Are you trying to get us to admit something? We had a fling back in the day. Mike’s a good-looking guy. Maybe if you two weren’t in…whatever relationship limbo you’re in, I’d have made another play, but I won’t knowingly come between a couple. That’s all there is to it.”
Fi smiled. It reminded Michael of a shark. “Excellent, Sam. That’s all I wanted to know from you,” she said. “Now you, Michael. Would you have been receptive to Sam, had he, as he put it, made a play?”
Michael glanced at Sam for help, but he shrugged, the essence of, Sorry, buddy, you’re on your own.
“Yes,” he said at last. When all else failed, he might as well be honest. “If not for you, Fi.”
“That’s what I thought,” she said, nodding to herself. “You both are idiots.”
“What?” asked Sam.
“I expect this from Michael, Sam—if he isn’t sacrificing something, he assumes he’s doing something wrong—but I always thought you were more practical about matters like these.” She shook her head. “You don’t have to choose, Michael. Not when I’m perfectly willing to share.”
“What?” That time, it was him.
“Maybe it was something Larry said,” she replied, shrugging. “But it made me start thinking about who you are, what you need, and I think I’ve figured it out. I think you need both of us.” She looked at Sam. “What do you think, Sam? Will you come between a couple if you’re given permission?” She smirked. “In other words, how good are you at sharing?”
Sam looked thoughtful. “I’ve been known to share pretty well,” he said slowly.
Michael glanced between them. “Is this really happening?” he actually said aloud before he could stop himself.
“It’s up to you,” she pointed out, far too reasonably.
“I don’t—” He realized he had no idea what to say. “How would this even work?”
“Gee, Mikey, has it been that long?” Sam asked, smirking faintly.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“You could always remind him, Sam,” Fi said, once again using her entirely ineffective innocent expression.
“I could,” he agreed, setting down his beer and standing up.
“Sam—” That was as far as he got before Sam pressed him up against the workbench, kissing him hard.
Sam’s joke aside, it actually had been several years since he’d last kissed another guy—the last time had been with someone whose name he didn’t even remember, a meaningless night not long after his cover had been blown in Ireland and he’d had to leave Fi.
It’d been considerably longer since he’d last kissed Sam.
Yet here he was, seamlessly re-adjusting to the feel of Sam’s stubble against his cheek, the way his weight held him in place, his sheer presence. It was a hell of a lot easier than he might want to admit—a hell of a lot more comfortable. He deepened the kiss.
That had always thrown him off with Sam, how easily they fit together. Back then it’d seemed almost too easy, but with Fi in the mix too…maybe there was something to this.
Thinking of Fi made him break the kiss, taking a deep breath. He glanced over Sam’s shoulder to see her grinning widely, obviously pleased with herself. “Is that better, Michael?” she asked him. He really had to ask her why she even tried with that innocent expression. “I’ll let you boys get reacquainted for now, but I will be back later.” Her tone held a promise—or maybe a threat? It was pretty hard to tell with Fi. “Have fun.” She left.
Michael looked at Sam and shook his head. “Did you see that coming at all?”
“Like hell,” he said, but he grinned in a way that Michael decided still qualified as rakish. “But I can’t say I’m complaining. Are you?”
“No,” he said, smile tugging at his lips. “I’m not.”
---
“It’s all right to admit you can’t keep up, Sam,” Fi was saying, and Michael tried not to roll his eyes. “No one will think any less of you. How could we? Our opinions are already so low.”
“Like I’d ever give you the satisfaction,” Sam replied. They both walked into the loft. “I can match you beat for beat and not even break a sweat.”
Fi laughed. “If that’s what you have to tell yourself.”
“Here, Mikey,” Sam said, handing over a piece of paper with the information they’d gone to retrieve. “Easy peasy.”
“Does it help to lie to yourself?”
“I’ll have you know I could do that again. In fact, I’m raring to go, ready for action.”
“Prove it.”
“Maybe I will.”
Michael was trying to decipher Sam’s handwriting and didn’t notice the odd silence that settled over the room until it was almost too late. He glanced up to see Fi and Sam eyeing him and each other.
“Let Mikey be the judge,” Sam said, obviously a challenge.
Fi crossed her arms. “You’re sure you won’t be too upset when you lose?”
“Put your money where your mouth is, lady.”
“Michael would probably prefer I put my mouth somewhere else.”
“You’re on.”
“Guys, what’s going—”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence. Sam had him backed up against the workbench and was kissing him hard in seconds flat.
When they broke apart, Fi was clapping slowly. “Not bad,” she said, grinning wickedly, “but I can do better.” The second part of her sentence was almost a sing-song.
She sauntered over and hoisted herself up onto the workbench, pushing lightly at Sam’s chest so he took a step back, squirming in between them and kissing Michael roughly, all passion and heat.
“Guys?” he said, a little breathless, once Fi pulled away. Sam was still close enough to touch.
“Cute,” said Sam. “Very cute.”
“Cute?” She deliberately groped Michael, making him groan. “Call that cute.”
“Fiona!” he managed.
“Yes, Michael?” she asked sweetly.
“What is going on?”
“Isn’t it obvious, Mikey?” Sam said, shifting Fi to the side so he could get closer. “Fi threw down the gauntlet. I have to respond.”
“This is how you respond?”
“No, this is.” He gripped the back of his neck and drew him in, crushing their mouths together.
He heard Fi laugh; when she groped him again, he groaned into the kiss. “Come on, Sam,” she said, jumping off the workbench. “Let’s get him to the bed.”
Sam broke the kiss and slipped an arm around his waist, tugging him away from the workbench and bringing them flush against each other. Michael gave him a look when he grabbed his ass, but Sam only grinned in return.
“Boys,” said Fi suddenly, from where she was lounging on the bed. “It isn’t polite to keep a lady waiting.”
“Is there a lady somewhere around here we’ve kept waiting?” Sam asked her.
Michael winced.
But Fi only snorted and got off the bed, grabbing his hand and tugging him away from Sam. She pushed him onto the bed, straddled him instantly, and kissed him.
A moment later, he felt the bed dip when Sam sat down. Then he felt one of Sam’s hands snake in between him and Fi, undoing the button on his slacks, pulling down the zipper. When his hand slipped inside, past his underwear, and gripped his cock, he moaned softly. Fi started trailing kisses along his jaw, moving to his neck, and Sam leaned in to claim his mouth.
“Who’s the better kisser, Michael?” Fi asked then.
Sam laughed into their kiss and pulled away. “You’re just asking for disappointment.”
“Christ,” Michael groaned, because Sam’s hand was still on his cock and Fi responded to Sam’s jab by biting down lightly on his neck. He still wasn’t entirely sure why this was happening, but goddamn the two of them felt good.
“You can’t be that good,” she said then, pulling away to look at Sam.
“I am, baby. You better believe it.”
“I’m supposed to take your word for it?”
Sam considered that, then did something Michael didn’t expect; he leaned in and kissed Fiona.
Possibly more unexpectedly, Fiona quite obviously kissed him back.
Michael swallowed, watching them kiss, Fi on top of him and Sam’s hand still absently working his cock, and wondered if this somehow wasn’t the hottest thing he’d ever witnessed.
No, he decided, as Sam deepened the kiss and Fiona responded enthusiastically, it was definitely the hottest.
They broke apart finally, breathing heavily. “All right, Sam,” Fi said. “You’re not bad.”
“You’re not too shabby yourself.”
“Excuse me, Michael. Were we ignoring you?”
“I—” He still knew how to form sentences. He was almost sure of it.
Sam smirked. “I think Mikey was enjoying the show.”
Fi smirked back. “But he is wearing far too many clothes, don’t you think?”
“True.”
Fi rolled off him and Sam pulled his hand away, and Fi started tugging off his pants while Sam pulled his shirt over his head. Between the two of them, he was stripped down to his boxer-briefs in no time at all.
“Better,” Fi said approvingly, leaning in and squeezing a nipple. She slid lower down the bed, inching down his underwear until he could kick them off. Then she kissed the head of his cock and took it into her mouth; Sam cut off his surprised groan with a hard kiss.
Fi ran her tongue along the underside of his cock, sucking softly, teasingly, and Sam started kissing his neck, sucking at his Adam’s apple. Michael gripped at the sheets, letting his head fall back, and moaned.
“Fuck,” he managed.
“We’ll get there, Mike,” Sam said, tone sounding like pure sex. “Maybe I’ll fuck you while Fi rides you.”
Fi chose that moment to start humming around him. His hips jerked, and Sam reached down to still them, holding them in place as Fi increased her suction.
“Christ,” he gasped, crushing the sheets as his grip tightened. “Fi—Sam—”
That was when Fi pulled off, grinning. She licked her lips and looked at Sam. “I like your plan.” She turned her grin on him. “What do you think, Michael?”
Michael breathed raggedly, looking between them. At this rate, they just might kill him. Fifteen years in the intelligence community, facing down drug lords, terrorists, and rival spies, and it turned out that all it took to do him in was the combination of Sam and Fiona.
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Excellent.” She pulled her sundress over her head, leaving her in only a pair of tiny panties.
Sam glanced at her, then back at Michael. “I suddenly feel overdressed.”
Fi lifted an eyebrow at him. “You ought to fix that,” she said. “Here, I’ll help.”
She moved, practically launching herself at him. Undoing the button of his pants with her hand, she leaned down and pulled down his zipper with her teeth. “Jesus, Fi,” he muttered.
Michael couldn’t help but agree.
She smirked and tugged down his pants, and Sam shifted to get out of them. Michael watched with rapt attention as Fi helped him with his shirt next, then his undershirt, until he was down to just his boxers. She palmed him through them, making him groan, and Michael bit back his own noise, swallowing hard.
“Lube’s under the pillow,” Sam muttered. “Condoms too.”
Fi groped him one last time before moving to lift one of the pillows, revealing Michael’s SIG Sauer. “Wrong pillow,” she murmured, lifting the other and picking up the bottle of lubricant and a condom. She tossed them to Sam.
Michael sat up to help Sam out of his boxers, both of them momentarily distracted by the sight of Fi shimmying out of her panties. She only smirked as she tossed them to the floor; Sam’s boxers quickly followed.
“On your side, Mike,” Sam said, and he obliged. Fi joined him, kissing him and running a hand down his chest, then dipping lower and gripping his cock. He heard the bottle open and then felt Sam press a finger inside him—just as Fi twisted her hand. He cursed, and Fi grinned, stroking him faster, while Sam added another finger, then another, stretching him.
“Sam,” he groaned.
“Ready, Mike?”
“God yes.”
He sat up and watched Sam pile the pillows and lean back against them, slipping on the condom and taking his cock in hand, slicking it up with the lube. Michael got up on his knees and moved back against him, one of Sam’s hands going to his hip, guiding him, and slowly he sank down on Sam’s cock, groaning at the feel of it filling him, stretching him. Sam’s other hand moved to his hip, and Michael grabbed one of Sam’s legs, lifting up and sinking down again. They both groaned that time.
Fi watched them for a few moments, hand rubbing her clit, before she grinned and crawled forward, carefully straddling Michael’s lap. She kissed him and he used his free hand to press a couple fingers inside her, thumb rubbing her clit. Her hips jerked against his hand, and she gasped and swatted at his wrist. He pulled his hand away, allowing her to slide onto his cock with a breathy sigh of pleasure.
It took a minute to find a rhythm, but not as long as Michael might have thought—Fi would lift up and slide back down, then he would, Sam’s hips jerking up into him, making his own jerk up into Fi. They moved like that, slowly at first, pace increasing as they eased further into the rhythm.
“Feel good, Michael?” Fi murmured in his ear just as Sam thrust up into him hard, making him moan. She clenched around him, drawing the moan out longer.
“Fuck, Fi,” he gasped.
“Think that’s a yes,” Sam said, having the grace to sound a little out of breath.
Fi lifted her hips again, slamming down harder, enough to make even Sam curse. “Fi,” Michael groaned, grip on her hip tightening as he thrust up into her, then slid back onto Sam. “Sam. Christ.” The both of them, Fi tight around him, Sam filling him, Sam’s hands on his hips, Fi’s breath in his ear, it was hard to think, hard to breathe, hard to do anything but feel.
“Yes, Michael?” Fi asked, voice low.
“You both feel,” he gritted out, “incredible.”
“Of course we do,” she said, looking far too smug.
“Humble,” managed Sam.
“I’m no fan of false modesty,” she said, biting her lip at Michael’s thrust. “Mm, Michael, just like that.”
“You even know what the word means?” asked Sam through a groan.
Michael let their banter wash over him as they moved together, focusing on his breathing, the way they felt, the pleasure shooting through him with every shift of their hips. He knew he had to be close, his breathing getting more and more ragged, a familiar tingling at the base of his spine.
“Guys,” he said suddenly, gripping tighter at both Sam and Fi. “I—”
“It’s all right, Michael,” murmured Fi, and she clenched around him again. Sam’s hips thrust up into him, propelling him further into Fi. His grip tightened again, and they repeated the motion, making him moan loudly.
“Fi—” he gasped. “Sam—”
Fi clenched again. He came as Sam thrust again, holding onto both of them for dear life as his orgasm tore through him, gasping for breath as frissons of pleasure zapped down his spine.
Fi kissed him softly before pulling off him, helping him ease off Sam and shift to the side of the bed. He breathed hard, trying to catch his breath, and eyed them. “Give me a second,” he said.
Sam smirked, removing the condom. He tossed it into the trashcan and took his cock in hand. “No problem, Mikey,” he said.
Fi gave Sam an appraising look. “You’re a decent kisser, Sam,” she said. “What else can you do with your mouth?”
He grinned and leered. “Come here and find out.”
Michael watched Fi take him up on that, straddling his chest. Sam slipped two fingers inside her, pumping them as he sucked at her clit. Having caught his breath, Michael shifted and moved between Sam’s legs, leaning down and taking his cock into his mouth. He heard Sam let out a muffled moan.
It made Fi groan. “I like how that felt,” she said unsteadily.
Michael focused on Sam’s cock, quickly bobbing up and down, sucking hard. Muffled groans and Fi’s curses filled the air. He started humming, lifting a hand to rub and squeeze Sam’s balls.
“Fuck,” muttered Fi. “Christ. Sam—” She let out a low, guttural cry as she came.
Michael quickened his pace on Sam’s cock, increasing the intensity of the humming, tonguing his slit. Sam’s curses were less muffled now, and a glance up told him why: Fi had moved off his chest and to the side of the bed. Sam reached a hand down to grip Michael’s shoulder, groaning as he worked his cock.
“Like that, Mike, just like that,” Sam muttered, groaning and hips jerking as he finished. Michael swallowed and pulled off, wiping his mouth. Sam panted, clearly trying to catch his breath.
They rearranged the pillows, Michael settling against Sam and Fi settling against him. “That was…” He stopped. He wasn’t sure he really had words.
“Yeah,” Sam said, shifting. “It was.”
“Boys, it’s time to rest. Especially if we want to do this again.”
He couldn’t help but grin at the thought. “Yes.”
“There’s just one thing, Mikey,” Sam muttered, shifting again. “If we’re going to keep this up, you’re definitely going to need a bigger bed.”
Michael snorted through a yawn. “Consider it done, Sam.”
---
“Ma?” he asked, frowning, as he stepped back to let her in. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”
Sam was with her, looking everywhere but at his face, and he followed her in the door.
“No, Michael,” she said. “Nothing happened. At least, nothing that I’ve been told.”
That cryptic statement hung in the air as she looked around the loft, then glanced at him shrewdly. He was not going to ask. He tried to silently ask Sam, who just gave him a shrug and an apologetic look.
“You got a new bed, Michael.”
“What?” he asked, attention back on his mom.
“Your bed. It’s new. I thought I noticed it last time I was here, and I did—it’s bigger than the other one was. Though why you still insist on keeping it on the ground like this, I’ll never understand.”
“Ah, yeah,” he said. “I just needed a new one.”
“What was wrong with the old one?”
“It was old,” he said.
She gave him an unimpressed look. “Michael, half this place is rusted through. You expect me to believe you replaced your mattress because it was a few years old?”
“There’s nothing to believe, Mom. That’s what happened.”
“Uh-huh.” She didn’t sound remotely convinced. Wordlessly, she headed to the fridge, opening the door. “You’re keeping a lot more beer in the fridge, Sam. Spending more time here?”
“Sure, I guess,” Sam said with a half-shrug, eyebrows furrowing at the question. “It’s for everyone, really, and it’s just easier this way. You know how Mikey is. He’d buy nothing but yogurt if Fi let him.”
She gave him a withering look. Michael’s eyebrows climbed into his hairline. “Mom, can you excuse me and Sam for a minute? I just need to talk to him about one of our cases.”
Before she could answer, he grabbed Sam’s arm and led him out onto the balcony. “What did you do?” he demanded in a low whisper.
“Nothing, Mikey! I mean, I don’t know. All day, she’s been like this, asking me pointed questions about ‘things she should know’, stuff about you, and Fi—finally she just demanded I bring her over here, wouldn’t even let me call you to give you a heads up.”
“Does she know?” he asked.
“I think she suspects.” Sam shrugged. “Maybe we should tell her.”
“Maybe,” Michael said doubtfully.
“Do you have a better idea to get her out of this mood?”
He sighed. “All right.” He paused. “Should we call Fi as backup?”
“That might not be a bad idea. I’ll call her. You go talk to your mom.”
Michael groaned. “Really?”
“Mikey, come on. She’s been death-glaring at me all day.”
“Fine, Sam. Hurry up calling Fi.”
He left the balcony. His mom had started smoking.
“I wish you wouldn’t treat me like I’m an idiot, Michael,” she said.
“I’m not, Mom,” he replied. “You should sit down. There is something I’d like to tell you.”
That was one of the bigger lies he’d told lately. There were a lot of things he’d like to be doing right at this moment—escaping from an Albanian prison, for example, or maybe trying to build a transistor radio out of some scrap wire and parts of a junked toaster—and exactly none of them were explaining to his mother that first of all, he was bisexual, and second of all, he, Fi, and Sam were in some sort of ridiculous threesome relationship that even he didn’t understand half the time, let alone expect her to.
But this was how his life worked. No one ever popped out of the woodwork to try to kill him when it might prove to be a convenient distraction, or at least a good excuse to postpone this conversation, say, indefinitely.
“This better be good,” she said, giving him a shrewd look. Sam walked back into the loft.
“Fi’s on her way,” he said.
“Shouldn’t the two of you talk to her alone?” She gave them both a pointed look.
“Uh, she’s coming to talk to you, Maddie,” Sam said, looking thrown.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
“Mom, Sam, Fi and I—Sam and I—” Michael stopped. He could woo international criminals and charm sociopaths, but try to tell his mother about his personal life and suddenly he had all the social grace of a math nerd the week before prom. “I’m bisexual,” he finally blurted out.
She only raised an eyebrow expectantly. “Well, yes, I knew that, Michael. The number of times I almost interrupted you and Andre…”
That stopped him cold. “You knew about that?”
“Of course I knew about that. I’m your mother.”
“Right.” He was, for a change, well and truly stunned. Only his mother. “Okay. Well. Sam and I—in the past—but now—”
“You’re seeing each other,” she finished impatiently. “I know that. What I want to know, Michael, is what you plan to tell Fiona? I will not lie for you,” she said firmly, fixing him with a hard look. “You have to tell her yourself.”
At that, Sam let out an incredulous bark of laughter. “Maddie—wait—you think Fi doesn’t know?” He laughed again. “You think I’d risk having half my limbs blown up?”
“Aw, Sam, I always knew you were a little afraid of me.” Fi could certainly have excellent timing sometimes.
Sam groaned. “That was not what it sounded like,” he said, pointing at her.
She smirked at him. “It sounded to me like you were properly wary about what I might have done to you had you gone near Michael without my permission.”
“Then you do know about them, dear?” his mom asked her, looking concerned.
Fi smiled reassuringly. “I encouraged them, Madeline. You didn’t think they were going behind my back?”
“I didn’t want to,” she admitted, “but the way they’ve both been acting, and then Sam brushed off a beautiful woman when we were out shopping the other day, I couldn’t help but wonder.”
“That’s what I did,” Sam said, realization dawning on his features.
Michael snorted. “For me, Sam?” he asked dryly.
“And me?” Fi added, giving him a coy expression.
He rolled his eyes and muttered something unintelligible under his breath.
His mother only smiled and shook her head. “I’m glad we got this straightened out, Michael. Thank you for telling me.”
He stared at her. “That’s it?”
“What else did you want me to say?” She looked genuinely curious. “If any three people can make this work, it’s you three. You fit together.”
Fi smiled. “Thank you, Madeline. That’s a lovely thing to say.”
She shrugged. “It’s true.” She glanced at Sam. “Can you give me a ride back home, Sam?”
“Sure thing, Maddie.” He waved and followed her out of the loft.
Michael gave Fi an incredulous look. “I did not see that coming.”
“Give your mother some credit, Michael,” she said, heading over and leaning up to kiss him. “She knows you a lot better than you think she does.”
“Apparently, Fi,” he said, kissing her back. “Apparently.”
vi (a).
Fi smirked as Michael promptly fell fast asleep, obviously run ragged. “It looks like we wore him out,” she said to Sam, who smirked back.
“We’re just that good,” he said, stretching.
“True.” She leaned back against the pillows. “Michael does enjoy when we get…competitive, doesn’t he?”
Sam snorted. “Enjoy is an understatement.”
“It is,” she agreed, smiling faintly as she looked at him. “But it’s…nice to see him sleep this deeply.”
“Yeah,” Sam said. “Especially since he’s been stretching himself pretty thin lately.” He smirked. “Good thing all it takes is a little friendly competition.”
“That is a good thing,” she said. “It’s just a shame you never have a chance. I’m impressed by how gracefully you accept that, Sam.”
“Oh, you are, huh?” Sam asked her, arching an eyebrow. “Sounds to me like you’re living in some kind of bizarro universe, and once Mikey wakes up from his sex coma, I’m sure he’ll agree.”
Fi laughed and decided she’d have to remember to pass along the description of Michael’s slumber as a ‘sex coma’ once he woke up. “Maybe,” she conceded, grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“There’s no maybe about it, lady, and you know it.”
“I do, do I?”
“Do I have to show you again?”
“Again? You’ve shown me a first time?” She smirked.
“I’ve shown you more than a first time.”
“If you say so.” She smiled coquettishly. “Sure you have the energy left?”
“Always, baby,” he said with an exaggerated leer, pulling her toward him.
She laughed and straddled him. “Someone has an overdeveloped sense of confidence.”
“It’s not overdeveloped,” he said, one of his large hands sliding down her back, the other tangled in her hair. “It’s developed just right.” He pulled her head in and kissed her hard. “Admit it,” he added, once they broke apart.
“Oh, you haven’t proven anything yet,” she told him.
He kissed her again, hand gripping her hip, and she returned it—he really was a great kisser, as much as she enjoyed riling him up, and she liked how his hands felt on her. They were different from Michael’s—a little bigger, a little rougher. It wasn’t better or worse, just new. Interesting. Fiona liked interesting.
They continued making out for a few minutes, one of his hands roaming along her ass and sliding up her back, the other cupping her breasts, fingers toying with a nipple. She gasped and pressed into his hands, glancing over to her right. Michael was still dead to the world.
“What do you think Michael would do if he woke up right now and saw us?”
Sam snorted. “He’d get that look in his eyes,” he said. “You know the one.”
“Oh, yes,” she said, absently running her hands down his chest. “The one where he can’t quite decide if what he’s seeing is real or not.”
“And like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen either way.”
Fi smirked. “Which, to be perfectly honest, it probably is.”
“No arguments here.”
Her smirk waned as she looked at Michael again, strangely peaceful in sleep. That was weird. Nice to see, of course, but weird. “Has he even eaten a real meal lately?”
“I made something yesterday.”
“Good,” she said, then straightened. “I’ve decided I want you to fuck me, Sam. Can you handle that?”
He gave her an even look. “With my hands tied.”
She responded with a look of her own, shooting him an evil grin. “Ooh, now there’s an idea.”
Sam only rolled his eyes. “Maybe some other time,” he said. “When Mike’s awake.”
“I’ll hold you to that, Sam.”
“I know you will, Fi.”
vi (b).
In Sam’s long and varied experience, watching Mike talk his way out of getting shot in the head never got any easier.
He’d half-figured it would have by now, given how many times it’d happened over the course of the past several years, but every time, his reaction was the same, that small, heavy pit of dread settling deep in his gut, threatening to make him sicker than eight or ten shots of tequila.
Unfortunately, Chuck Finley wasn’t allowed to care. “I hear you,” he said to their latest bad guy, a corrupt city official using her position to help launder money for a fairly new, yet surprisingly industrious, gangster racket that had come into town. Her eyes were narrowed and calculating, and she was holding that gun with the steady hand of someone who knew what the fuck they were doing. “I can barely stand this guy myself. Honestly, if I had a nickel for every time I’ve wanted to shoot him…well, actually, I do.” He grinned a very cheesy grin. “But to be fair, that’s mostly because of him.”
“Just hear me out,” said Mike, nervously, because his cover was a tweedy accountant who had gotten frustrated with his lot in life and had turned to the dark side. “Five minutes of your time. You won’t be disappointed.”
Her eyes flicked between them, Mike playing freaked out and Sam playing bored and indifferent, and she slowly lowered the gun. “Five minutes,” she said crisply. “But I warn you. Surprise me like that again and I’ll put two between his eyes and frame you for the murder. Am I understood?”
“Loud and clear,” said Sam, and damn, he would be so fucking happy when this job was over.
Fi was going to throw a fit. She’d been opposed to this plan from the beginning, and now Sam was realizing she’d been right.
At least she got it, though. How it never got any easier.
---
“And that was exactly why that plan was a bad idea,” Fi muttered under her breath, only loud enough for him to hear. Mike and Jesse were engrossed in a discussion at the workbench about his part of this thing. This was phase two with Fi, Sam knew, another by-product of his experience. Phase one had been the yelling. He stood and headed for the fridge, grabbing two beers, and returned to his seat. He passed her one without a word.
After a moment, he said, “Yeah. You were right.”
She didn’t respond smartly, just took a sip from the bottle, and blew out a frustrated breath.
“It’s worse when it’s him,” Sam added, quietly. “Not because I don’t—with you—oh, hell, you know.” That earned him a smirk. “Whatever. But it’s somehow worse when it’s him.”
“I love you both,” Fi said, and stuck her tongue out at him, which just made him roll his eyes. He held back a grin. “But no, you’re right. It is worse. Michael is…” she stopped, looking thoughtful, before continuing, “far more likely to get consumed.”
He met her eyes. “Exactly.”
They both glanced over at the workbench. He lifted his beer at her in a cheers gesture.
Fi returned the motion, shaking her head, and took a long drink.
Part V | Masterpost | Part VII
Fandom: Burn Notice
Rating: NC-17 (for this part)
Pairing: Sam/Michael/Fiona (in this part)
Warnings: For this part: Sex.
Summary: "But in this career path, relationships and self-identity are not prioritized. While spies are trained to be able to ingratiate themselves with others, fooling strangers is a long way from the honesty and communication that people in relationships tend to expect. Combined with an emotionally stunted bedrock, navigating these waters can be ill-advised at best and downright dangerous at worst, often with little hope of success." And yet, despite everything, Michael Westen finds himself trying anyway.
Word Count: 5,950 (for this part)
Disclaimer: All copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. This work is not created for profit and constitutes fair use.
A/N: See the masterpost for the full information.
“Michael, I want to talk,” Fi said, and Michael had a hard time not letting his wary expression show.
He glanced at Sam, who shook his head, holding up his hands. “I’m gone,” he said, standing.
“No, Sam, sit back down. I might need to talk to you too.”
This time Sam glanced at him, as if to say, What the hell did I do?
Michael only shrugged. “What do you want to talk about?” he asked cautiously.
“Something Larry said to me,” she said, then shook her head. “No, more the way he said it. It made me curious. The two of you—when you worked together, I mean—were involved in some way, weren’t you, Michael? Some sort of liaison?”
Michael stared. Sam blew out a breath. “Oh boy,” he said, standing again. “If we’re talking about this, I’m getting a beer.”
“Then I am right,” she said as Sam pulled a beer out of the fridge. “And you knew, Sam?”
“Believe me, I wish I didn’t.”
“But of course you did—you knew Michael back then.”
“I knew Larry, too,” he said.
“Sam and Larry never got along,” said Michael absently.
“That’s because he’s a psychopath, Mikey.”
“Not arguing with you, Sam.” Michael shook his head. “I didn’t know the full extent of…Larry, back then. He seemed…saner.”
“Which still isn’t saying a lot,” Sam muttered.
Fi looked at him expectantly, clearly wanting him to go on. “I did know enough, though. I even knew he was manipulating me to a certain degree. I just didn’t care.”
“And Larry’s always been obsessed with Mike.”
“I wouldn’t say obsessed with—”
“I would. You never saw how possessive he’d get when you weren’t around.”
“Possessive? Interesting,” said Fi, fixing Sam with an unreadable expression. It made Michael wary and it wasn’t even aimed at him.
“Uh, yeah, or creepy, that’s the word I’d use,” Sam said, not looking at her.
“I meant that he directed it at you,” she said. “Generally someone only does that toward a person they perceive as a threat.”
Sam sent him a look. Michael shrugged again.
“Yeah, I guess…” he said slowly.
“Were you?” she asked. Her expression seemed to be aiming for innocent, which he decided worked roughly as well as a gun with a disabled trigger assembly.
“Was I what?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.
“A threat.” She smiled sweetly.
“Uh,” he said.
“Eloquent, Sam,” Michael muttered.
“You were, weren’t you?” Fi asked, smirking. “You and Michael slept together.”
“To be fair, in those days, I slept with everyone,” Sam protested, and Michael snorted. That was true enough. “It wasn’t anything serious.”
She looked at him. Michael shrugged. “He’s right. It only happened, what, three times? Four?”
“Something like that.”
“Interesting,” she said again, clasping her hands together thoughtfully. “Do you miss it?”
Sam choked on his beer. Michael was just glad he hadn’t been drinking anything.
“What?” Sam asked, just half a second before he did.
“You heard me. Do you miss it? Have you been tempted?” She leaned in. “Or even given into temptation?”
“We haven’t—” Michael started, but stopped, not sure how to finish that sentence. Slept together since he came to Miami? That was true enough. Thought about it again? That was less true, at least on his end.
“We haven’t?” Fi prompted, looking interested.
“Given into anything. If there’s even anything to give into.”
He looked at the floor. It was better than trying to look at either Sam or Fi.
“Of course there is,” Fi said, sounding absurdly practical for what they were discussing. “Two reasonably healthy, reasonably attractive men who have a history, working in close proximity with one another? There’s something there to give into, Michael. The point of this discussion is to figure out exactly what.”
“Fi, seriously, what are you getting at here?” Sam asked, and Michael chanced a glance up. “Are you trying to get us to admit something? We had a fling back in the day. Mike’s a good-looking guy. Maybe if you two weren’t in…whatever relationship limbo you’re in, I’d have made another play, but I won’t knowingly come between a couple. That’s all there is to it.”
Fi smiled. It reminded Michael of a shark. “Excellent, Sam. That’s all I wanted to know from you,” she said. “Now you, Michael. Would you have been receptive to Sam, had he, as he put it, made a play?”
Michael glanced at Sam for help, but he shrugged, the essence of, Sorry, buddy, you’re on your own.
“Yes,” he said at last. When all else failed, he might as well be honest. “If not for you, Fi.”
“That’s what I thought,” she said, nodding to herself. “You both are idiots.”
“What?” asked Sam.
“I expect this from Michael, Sam—if he isn’t sacrificing something, he assumes he’s doing something wrong—but I always thought you were more practical about matters like these.” She shook her head. “You don’t have to choose, Michael. Not when I’m perfectly willing to share.”
“What?” That time, it was him.
“Maybe it was something Larry said,” she replied, shrugging. “But it made me start thinking about who you are, what you need, and I think I’ve figured it out. I think you need both of us.” She looked at Sam. “What do you think, Sam? Will you come between a couple if you’re given permission?” She smirked. “In other words, how good are you at sharing?”
Sam looked thoughtful. “I’ve been known to share pretty well,” he said slowly.
Michael glanced between them. “Is this really happening?” he actually said aloud before he could stop himself.
“It’s up to you,” she pointed out, far too reasonably.
“I don’t—” He realized he had no idea what to say. “How would this even work?”
“Gee, Mikey, has it been that long?” Sam asked, smirking faintly.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“You could always remind him, Sam,” Fi said, once again using her entirely ineffective innocent expression.
“I could,” he agreed, setting down his beer and standing up.
“Sam—” That was as far as he got before Sam pressed him up against the workbench, kissing him hard.
Sam’s joke aside, it actually had been several years since he’d last kissed another guy—the last time had been with someone whose name he didn’t even remember, a meaningless night not long after his cover had been blown in Ireland and he’d had to leave Fi.
It’d been considerably longer since he’d last kissed Sam.
Yet here he was, seamlessly re-adjusting to the feel of Sam’s stubble against his cheek, the way his weight held him in place, his sheer presence. It was a hell of a lot easier than he might want to admit—a hell of a lot more comfortable. He deepened the kiss.
That had always thrown him off with Sam, how easily they fit together. Back then it’d seemed almost too easy, but with Fi in the mix too…maybe there was something to this.
Thinking of Fi made him break the kiss, taking a deep breath. He glanced over Sam’s shoulder to see her grinning widely, obviously pleased with herself. “Is that better, Michael?” she asked him. He really had to ask her why she even tried with that innocent expression. “I’ll let you boys get reacquainted for now, but I will be back later.” Her tone held a promise—or maybe a threat? It was pretty hard to tell with Fi. “Have fun.” She left.
Michael looked at Sam and shook his head. “Did you see that coming at all?”
“Like hell,” he said, but he grinned in a way that Michael decided still qualified as rakish. “But I can’t say I’m complaining. Are you?”
“No,” he said, smile tugging at his lips. “I’m not.”
“It’s all right to admit you can’t keep up, Sam,” Fi was saying, and Michael tried not to roll his eyes. “No one will think any less of you. How could we? Our opinions are already so low.”
“Like I’d ever give you the satisfaction,” Sam replied. They both walked into the loft. “I can match you beat for beat and not even break a sweat.”
Fi laughed. “If that’s what you have to tell yourself.”
“Here, Mikey,” Sam said, handing over a piece of paper with the information they’d gone to retrieve. “Easy peasy.”
“Does it help to lie to yourself?”
“I’ll have you know I could do that again. In fact, I’m raring to go, ready for action.”
“Prove it.”
“Maybe I will.”
Michael was trying to decipher Sam’s handwriting and didn’t notice the odd silence that settled over the room until it was almost too late. He glanced up to see Fi and Sam eyeing him and each other.
“Let Mikey be the judge,” Sam said, obviously a challenge.
Fi crossed her arms. “You’re sure you won’t be too upset when you lose?”
“Put your money where your mouth is, lady.”
“Michael would probably prefer I put my mouth somewhere else.”
“You’re on.”
“Guys, what’s going—”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence. Sam had him backed up against the workbench and was kissing him hard in seconds flat.
When they broke apart, Fi was clapping slowly. “Not bad,” she said, grinning wickedly, “but I can do better.” The second part of her sentence was almost a sing-song.
She sauntered over and hoisted herself up onto the workbench, pushing lightly at Sam’s chest so he took a step back, squirming in between them and kissing Michael roughly, all passion and heat.
“Guys?” he said, a little breathless, once Fi pulled away. Sam was still close enough to touch.
“Cute,” said Sam. “Very cute.”
“Cute?” She deliberately groped Michael, making him groan. “Call that cute.”
“Fiona!” he managed.
“Yes, Michael?” she asked sweetly.
“What is going on?”
“Isn’t it obvious, Mikey?” Sam said, shifting Fi to the side so he could get closer. “Fi threw down the gauntlet. I have to respond.”
“This is how you respond?”
“No, this is.” He gripped the back of his neck and drew him in, crushing their mouths together.
He heard Fi laugh; when she groped him again, he groaned into the kiss. “Come on, Sam,” she said, jumping off the workbench. “Let’s get him to the bed.”
Sam broke the kiss and slipped an arm around his waist, tugging him away from the workbench and bringing them flush against each other. Michael gave him a look when he grabbed his ass, but Sam only grinned in return.
“Boys,” said Fi suddenly, from where she was lounging on the bed. “It isn’t polite to keep a lady waiting.”
“Is there a lady somewhere around here we’ve kept waiting?” Sam asked her.
Michael winced.
But Fi only snorted and got off the bed, grabbing his hand and tugging him away from Sam. She pushed him onto the bed, straddled him instantly, and kissed him.
A moment later, he felt the bed dip when Sam sat down. Then he felt one of Sam’s hands snake in between him and Fi, undoing the button on his slacks, pulling down the zipper. When his hand slipped inside, past his underwear, and gripped his cock, he moaned softly. Fi started trailing kisses along his jaw, moving to his neck, and Sam leaned in to claim his mouth.
“Who’s the better kisser, Michael?” Fi asked then.
Sam laughed into their kiss and pulled away. “You’re just asking for disappointment.”
“Christ,” Michael groaned, because Sam’s hand was still on his cock and Fi responded to Sam’s jab by biting down lightly on his neck. He still wasn’t entirely sure why this was happening, but goddamn the two of them felt good.
“You can’t be that good,” she said then, pulling away to look at Sam.
“I am, baby. You better believe it.”
“I’m supposed to take your word for it?”
Sam considered that, then did something Michael didn’t expect; he leaned in and kissed Fiona.
Possibly more unexpectedly, Fiona quite obviously kissed him back.
Michael swallowed, watching them kiss, Fi on top of him and Sam’s hand still absently working his cock, and wondered if this somehow wasn’t the hottest thing he’d ever witnessed.
No, he decided, as Sam deepened the kiss and Fiona responded enthusiastically, it was definitely the hottest.
They broke apart finally, breathing heavily. “All right, Sam,” Fi said. “You’re not bad.”
“You’re not too shabby yourself.”
“Excuse me, Michael. Were we ignoring you?”
“I—” He still knew how to form sentences. He was almost sure of it.
Sam smirked. “I think Mikey was enjoying the show.”
Fi smirked back. “But he is wearing far too many clothes, don’t you think?”
“True.”
Fi rolled off him and Sam pulled his hand away, and Fi started tugging off his pants while Sam pulled his shirt over his head. Between the two of them, he was stripped down to his boxer-briefs in no time at all.
“Better,” Fi said approvingly, leaning in and squeezing a nipple. She slid lower down the bed, inching down his underwear until he could kick them off. Then she kissed the head of his cock and took it into her mouth; Sam cut off his surprised groan with a hard kiss.
Fi ran her tongue along the underside of his cock, sucking softly, teasingly, and Sam started kissing his neck, sucking at his Adam’s apple. Michael gripped at the sheets, letting his head fall back, and moaned.
“Fuck,” he managed.
“We’ll get there, Mike,” Sam said, tone sounding like pure sex. “Maybe I’ll fuck you while Fi rides you.”
Fi chose that moment to start humming around him. His hips jerked, and Sam reached down to still them, holding them in place as Fi increased her suction.
“Christ,” he gasped, crushing the sheets as his grip tightened. “Fi—Sam—”
That was when Fi pulled off, grinning. She licked her lips and looked at Sam. “I like your plan.” She turned her grin on him. “What do you think, Michael?”
Michael breathed raggedly, looking between them. At this rate, they just might kill him. Fifteen years in the intelligence community, facing down drug lords, terrorists, and rival spies, and it turned out that all it took to do him in was the combination of Sam and Fiona.
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Excellent.” She pulled her sundress over her head, leaving her in only a pair of tiny panties.
Sam glanced at her, then back at Michael. “I suddenly feel overdressed.”
Fi lifted an eyebrow at him. “You ought to fix that,” she said. “Here, I’ll help.”
She moved, practically launching herself at him. Undoing the button of his pants with her hand, she leaned down and pulled down his zipper with her teeth. “Jesus, Fi,” he muttered.
Michael couldn’t help but agree.
She smirked and tugged down his pants, and Sam shifted to get out of them. Michael watched with rapt attention as Fi helped him with his shirt next, then his undershirt, until he was down to just his boxers. She palmed him through them, making him groan, and Michael bit back his own noise, swallowing hard.
“Lube’s under the pillow,” Sam muttered. “Condoms too.”
Fi groped him one last time before moving to lift one of the pillows, revealing Michael’s SIG Sauer. “Wrong pillow,” she murmured, lifting the other and picking up the bottle of lubricant and a condom. She tossed them to Sam.
Michael sat up to help Sam out of his boxers, both of them momentarily distracted by the sight of Fi shimmying out of her panties. She only smirked as she tossed them to the floor; Sam’s boxers quickly followed.
“On your side, Mike,” Sam said, and he obliged. Fi joined him, kissing him and running a hand down his chest, then dipping lower and gripping his cock. He heard the bottle open and then felt Sam press a finger inside him—just as Fi twisted her hand. He cursed, and Fi grinned, stroking him faster, while Sam added another finger, then another, stretching him.
“Sam,” he groaned.
“Ready, Mike?”
“God yes.”
He sat up and watched Sam pile the pillows and lean back against them, slipping on the condom and taking his cock in hand, slicking it up with the lube. Michael got up on his knees and moved back against him, one of Sam’s hands going to his hip, guiding him, and slowly he sank down on Sam’s cock, groaning at the feel of it filling him, stretching him. Sam’s other hand moved to his hip, and Michael grabbed one of Sam’s legs, lifting up and sinking down again. They both groaned that time.
Fi watched them for a few moments, hand rubbing her clit, before she grinned and crawled forward, carefully straddling Michael’s lap. She kissed him and he used his free hand to press a couple fingers inside her, thumb rubbing her clit. Her hips jerked against his hand, and she gasped and swatted at his wrist. He pulled his hand away, allowing her to slide onto his cock with a breathy sigh of pleasure.
It took a minute to find a rhythm, but not as long as Michael might have thought—Fi would lift up and slide back down, then he would, Sam’s hips jerking up into him, making his own jerk up into Fi. They moved like that, slowly at first, pace increasing as they eased further into the rhythm.
“Feel good, Michael?” Fi murmured in his ear just as Sam thrust up into him hard, making him moan. She clenched around him, drawing the moan out longer.
“Fuck, Fi,” he gasped.
“Think that’s a yes,” Sam said, having the grace to sound a little out of breath.
Fi lifted her hips again, slamming down harder, enough to make even Sam curse. “Fi,” Michael groaned, grip on her hip tightening as he thrust up into her, then slid back onto Sam. “Sam. Christ.” The both of them, Fi tight around him, Sam filling him, Sam’s hands on his hips, Fi’s breath in his ear, it was hard to think, hard to breathe, hard to do anything but feel.
“Yes, Michael?” Fi asked, voice low.
“You both feel,” he gritted out, “incredible.”
“Of course we do,” she said, looking far too smug.
“Humble,” managed Sam.
“I’m no fan of false modesty,” she said, biting her lip at Michael’s thrust. “Mm, Michael, just like that.”
“You even know what the word means?” asked Sam through a groan.
Michael let their banter wash over him as they moved together, focusing on his breathing, the way they felt, the pleasure shooting through him with every shift of their hips. He knew he had to be close, his breathing getting more and more ragged, a familiar tingling at the base of his spine.
“Guys,” he said suddenly, gripping tighter at both Sam and Fi. “I—”
“It’s all right, Michael,” murmured Fi, and she clenched around him again. Sam’s hips thrust up into him, propelling him further into Fi. His grip tightened again, and they repeated the motion, making him moan loudly.
“Fi—” he gasped. “Sam—”
Fi clenched again. He came as Sam thrust again, holding onto both of them for dear life as his orgasm tore through him, gasping for breath as frissons of pleasure zapped down his spine.
Fi kissed him softly before pulling off him, helping him ease off Sam and shift to the side of the bed. He breathed hard, trying to catch his breath, and eyed them. “Give me a second,” he said.
Sam smirked, removing the condom. He tossed it into the trashcan and took his cock in hand. “No problem, Mikey,” he said.
Fi gave Sam an appraising look. “You’re a decent kisser, Sam,” she said. “What else can you do with your mouth?”
He grinned and leered. “Come here and find out.”
Michael watched Fi take him up on that, straddling his chest. Sam slipped two fingers inside her, pumping them as he sucked at her clit. Having caught his breath, Michael shifted and moved between Sam’s legs, leaning down and taking his cock into his mouth. He heard Sam let out a muffled moan.
It made Fi groan. “I like how that felt,” she said unsteadily.
Michael focused on Sam’s cock, quickly bobbing up and down, sucking hard. Muffled groans and Fi’s curses filled the air. He started humming, lifting a hand to rub and squeeze Sam’s balls.
“Fuck,” muttered Fi. “Christ. Sam—” She let out a low, guttural cry as she came.
Michael quickened his pace on Sam’s cock, increasing the intensity of the humming, tonguing his slit. Sam’s curses were less muffled now, and a glance up told him why: Fi had moved off his chest and to the side of the bed. Sam reached a hand down to grip Michael’s shoulder, groaning as he worked his cock.
“Like that, Mike, just like that,” Sam muttered, groaning and hips jerking as he finished. Michael swallowed and pulled off, wiping his mouth. Sam panted, clearly trying to catch his breath.
They rearranged the pillows, Michael settling against Sam and Fi settling against him. “That was…” He stopped. He wasn’t sure he really had words.
“Yeah,” Sam said, shifting. “It was.”
“Boys, it’s time to rest. Especially if we want to do this again.”
He couldn’t help but grin at the thought. “Yes.”
“There’s just one thing, Mikey,” Sam muttered, shifting again. “If we’re going to keep this up, you’re definitely going to need a bigger bed.”
Michael snorted through a yawn. “Consider it done, Sam.”
“Ma?” he asked, frowning, as he stepped back to let her in. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”
Sam was with her, looking everywhere but at his face, and he followed her in the door.
“No, Michael,” she said. “Nothing happened. At least, nothing that I’ve been told.”
That cryptic statement hung in the air as she looked around the loft, then glanced at him shrewdly. He was not going to ask. He tried to silently ask Sam, who just gave him a shrug and an apologetic look.
“You got a new bed, Michael.”
“What?” he asked, attention back on his mom.
“Your bed. It’s new. I thought I noticed it last time I was here, and I did—it’s bigger than the other one was. Though why you still insist on keeping it on the ground like this, I’ll never understand.”
“Ah, yeah,” he said. “I just needed a new one.”
“What was wrong with the old one?”
“It was old,” he said.
She gave him an unimpressed look. “Michael, half this place is rusted through. You expect me to believe you replaced your mattress because it was a few years old?”
“There’s nothing to believe, Mom. That’s what happened.”
“Uh-huh.” She didn’t sound remotely convinced. Wordlessly, she headed to the fridge, opening the door. “You’re keeping a lot more beer in the fridge, Sam. Spending more time here?”
“Sure, I guess,” Sam said with a half-shrug, eyebrows furrowing at the question. “It’s for everyone, really, and it’s just easier this way. You know how Mikey is. He’d buy nothing but yogurt if Fi let him.”
She gave him a withering look. Michael’s eyebrows climbed into his hairline. “Mom, can you excuse me and Sam for a minute? I just need to talk to him about one of our cases.”
Before she could answer, he grabbed Sam’s arm and led him out onto the balcony. “What did you do?” he demanded in a low whisper.
“Nothing, Mikey! I mean, I don’t know. All day, she’s been like this, asking me pointed questions about ‘things she should know’, stuff about you, and Fi—finally she just demanded I bring her over here, wouldn’t even let me call you to give you a heads up.”
“Does she know?” he asked.
“I think she suspects.” Sam shrugged. “Maybe we should tell her.”
“Maybe,” Michael said doubtfully.
“Do you have a better idea to get her out of this mood?”
He sighed. “All right.” He paused. “Should we call Fi as backup?”
“That might not be a bad idea. I’ll call her. You go talk to your mom.”
Michael groaned. “Really?”
“Mikey, come on. She’s been death-glaring at me all day.”
“Fine, Sam. Hurry up calling Fi.”
He left the balcony. His mom had started smoking.
“I wish you wouldn’t treat me like I’m an idiot, Michael,” she said.
“I’m not, Mom,” he replied. “You should sit down. There is something I’d like to tell you.”
That was one of the bigger lies he’d told lately. There were a lot of things he’d like to be doing right at this moment—escaping from an Albanian prison, for example, or maybe trying to build a transistor radio out of some scrap wire and parts of a junked toaster—and exactly none of them were explaining to his mother that first of all, he was bisexual, and second of all, he, Fi, and Sam were in some sort of ridiculous threesome relationship that even he didn’t understand half the time, let alone expect her to.
But this was how his life worked. No one ever popped out of the woodwork to try to kill him when it might prove to be a convenient distraction, or at least a good excuse to postpone this conversation, say, indefinitely.
“This better be good,” she said, giving him a shrewd look. Sam walked back into the loft.
“Fi’s on her way,” he said.
“Shouldn’t the two of you talk to her alone?” She gave them both a pointed look.
“Uh, she’s coming to talk to you, Maddie,” Sam said, looking thrown.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
“Mom, Sam, Fi and I—Sam and I—” Michael stopped. He could woo international criminals and charm sociopaths, but try to tell his mother about his personal life and suddenly he had all the social grace of a math nerd the week before prom. “I’m bisexual,” he finally blurted out.
She only raised an eyebrow expectantly. “Well, yes, I knew that, Michael. The number of times I almost interrupted you and Andre…”
That stopped him cold. “You knew about that?”
“Of course I knew about that. I’m your mother.”
“Right.” He was, for a change, well and truly stunned. Only his mother. “Okay. Well. Sam and I—in the past—but now—”
“You’re seeing each other,” she finished impatiently. “I know that. What I want to know, Michael, is what you plan to tell Fiona? I will not lie for you,” she said firmly, fixing him with a hard look. “You have to tell her yourself.”
At that, Sam let out an incredulous bark of laughter. “Maddie—wait—you think Fi doesn’t know?” He laughed again. “You think I’d risk having half my limbs blown up?”
“Aw, Sam, I always knew you were a little afraid of me.” Fi could certainly have excellent timing sometimes.
Sam groaned. “That was not what it sounded like,” he said, pointing at her.
She smirked at him. “It sounded to me like you were properly wary about what I might have done to you had you gone near Michael without my permission.”
“Then you do know about them, dear?” his mom asked her, looking concerned.
Fi smiled reassuringly. “I encouraged them, Madeline. You didn’t think they were going behind my back?”
“I didn’t want to,” she admitted, “but the way they’ve both been acting, and then Sam brushed off a beautiful woman when we were out shopping the other day, I couldn’t help but wonder.”
“That’s what I did,” Sam said, realization dawning on his features.
Michael snorted. “For me, Sam?” he asked dryly.
“And me?” Fi added, giving him a coy expression.
He rolled his eyes and muttered something unintelligible under his breath.
His mother only smiled and shook her head. “I’m glad we got this straightened out, Michael. Thank you for telling me.”
He stared at her. “That’s it?”
“What else did you want me to say?” She looked genuinely curious. “If any three people can make this work, it’s you three. You fit together.”
Fi smiled. “Thank you, Madeline. That’s a lovely thing to say.”
She shrugged. “It’s true.” She glanced at Sam. “Can you give me a ride back home, Sam?”
“Sure thing, Maddie.” He waved and followed her out of the loft.
Michael gave Fi an incredulous look. “I did not see that coming.”
“Give your mother some credit, Michael,” she said, heading over and leaning up to kiss him. “She knows you a lot better than you think she does.”
“Apparently, Fi,” he said, kissing her back. “Apparently.”
Fi smirked as Michael promptly fell fast asleep, obviously run ragged. “It looks like we wore him out,” she said to Sam, who smirked back.
“We’re just that good,” he said, stretching.
“True.” She leaned back against the pillows. “Michael does enjoy when we get…competitive, doesn’t he?”
Sam snorted. “Enjoy is an understatement.”
“It is,” she agreed, smiling faintly as she looked at him. “But it’s…nice to see him sleep this deeply.”
“Yeah,” Sam said. “Especially since he’s been stretching himself pretty thin lately.” He smirked. “Good thing all it takes is a little friendly competition.”
“That is a good thing,” she said. “It’s just a shame you never have a chance. I’m impressed by how gracefully you accept that, Sam.”
“Oh, you are, huh?” Sam asked her, arching an eyebrow. “Sounds to me like you’re living in some kind of bizarro universe, and once Mikey wakes up from his sex coma, I’m sure he’ll agree.”
Fi laughed and decided she’d have to remember to pass along the description of Michael’s slumber as a ‘sex coma’ once he woke up. “Maybe,” she conceded, grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“There’s no maybe about it, lady, and you know it.”
“I do, do I?”
“Do I have to show you again?”
“Again? You’ve shown me a first time?” She smirked.
“I’ve shown you more than a first time.”
“If you say so.” She smiled coquettishly. “Sure you have the energy left?”
“Always, baby,” he said with an exaggerated leer, pulling her toward him.
She laughed and straddled him. “Someone has an overdeveloped sense of confidence.”
“It’s not overdeveloped,” he said, one of his large hands sliding down her back, the other tangled in her hair. “It’s developed just right.” He pulled her head in and kissed her hard. “Admit it,” he added, once they broke apart.
“Oh, you haven’t proven anything yet,” she told him.
He kissed her again, hand gripping her hip, and she returned it—he really was a great kisser, as much as she enjoyed riling him up, and she liked how his hands felt on her. They were different from Michael’s—a little bigger, a little rougher. It wasn’t better or worse, just new. Interesting. Fiona liked interesting.
They continued making out for a few minutes, one of his hands roaming along her ass and sliding up her back, the other cupping her breasts, fingers toying with a nipple. She gasped and pressed into his hands, glancing over to her right. Michael was still dead to the world.
“What do you think Michael would do if he woke up right now and saw us?”
Sam snorted. “He’d get that look in his eyes,” he said. “You know the one.”
“Oh, yes,” she said, absently running her hands down his chest. “The one where he can’t quite decide if what he’s seeing is real or not.”
“And like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen either way.”
Fi smirked. “Which, to be perfectly honest, it probably is.”
“No arguments here.”
Her smirk waned as she looked at Michael again, strangely peaceful in sleep. That was weird. Nice to see, of course, but weird. “Has he even eaten a real meal lately?”
“I made something yesterday.”
“Good,” she said, then straightened. “I’ve decided I want you to fuck me, Sam. Can you handle that?”
He gave her an even look. “With my hands tied.”
She responded with a look of her own, shooting him an evil grin. “Ooh, now there’s an idea.”
Sam only rolled his eyes. “Maybe some other time,” he said. “When Mike’s awake.”
“I’ll hold you to that, Sam.”
“I know you will, Fi.”
In Sam’s long and varied experience, watching Mike talk his way out of getting shot in the head never got any easier.
He’d half-figured it would have by now, given how many times it’d happened over the course of the past several years, but every time, his reaction was the same, that small, heavy pit of dread settling deep in his gut, threatening to make him sicker than eight or ten shots of tequila.
Unfortunately, Chuck Finley wasn’t allowed to care. “I hear you,” he said to their latest bad guy, a corrupt city official using her position to help launder money for a fairly new, yet surprisingly industrious, gangster racket that had come into town. Her eyes were narrowed and calculating, and she was holding that gun with the steady hand of someone who knew what the fuck they were doing. “I can barely stand this guy myself. Honestly, if I had a nickel for every time I’ve wanted to shoot him…well, actually, I do.” He grinned a very cheesy grin. “But to be fair, that’s mostly because of him.”
“Just hear me out,” said Mike, nervously, because his cover was a tweedy accountant who had gotten frustrated with his lot in life and had turned to the dark side. “Five minutes of your time. You won’t be disappointed.”
Her eyes flicked between them, Mike playing freaked out and Sam playing bored and indifferent, and she slowly lowered the gun. “Five minutes,” she said crisply. “But I warn you. Surprise me like that again and I’ll put two between his eyes and frame you for the murder. Am I understood?”
“Loud and clear,” said Sam, and damn, he would be so fucking happy when this job was over.
Fi was going to throw a fit. She’d been opposed to this plan from the beginning, and now Sam was realizing she’d been right.
At least she got it, though. How it never got any easier.
“And that was exactly why that plan was a bad idea,” Fi muttered under her breath, only loud enough for him to hear. Mike and Jesse were engrossed in a discussion at the workbench about his part of this thing. This was phase two with Fi, Sam knew, another by-product of his experience. Phase one had been the yelling. He stood and headed for the fridge, grabbing two beers, and returned to his seat. He passed her one without a word.
After a moment, he said, “Yeah. You were right.”
She didn’t respond smartly, just took a sip from the bottle, and blew out a frustrated breath.
“It’s worse when it’s him,” Sam added, quietly. “Not because I don’t—with you—oh, hell, you know.” That earned him a smirk. “Whatever. But it’s somehow worse when it’s him.”
“I love you both,” Fi said, and stuck her tongue out at him, which just made him roll his eyes. He held back a grin. “But no, you’re right. It is worse. Michael is…” she stopped, looking thoughtful, before continuing, “far more likely to get consumed.”
He met her eyes. “Exactly.”
They both glanced over at the workbench. He lifted his beer at her in a cheers gesture.
Fi returned the motion, shaking her head, and took a long drink.