A/N: I think Valerie E Mackin said it best in a previous review: "Lots of limbs to deal with…how would you keep track of them all?" Well, a little something like this, Valerie.
This one goes to…DeDe324…here is that ceiling, shattered just for you.
This gets a little…explicit. Not that my other stuff isn't, but seriously, this is the first time I've actually written a threesome and not just alluded to it.
And this is the last chapter of 'Strangely Comfortable'. I am working on a huge arc right now that focuses on Wren and Murphy up to the end of the first movie, and then I've got Pam and Connor in the pipeline during the last year of the MacManus self-exile to Ireland. Hopefully I'll have the first chapter of the Murphy/Wren arc up within the next week or so.
Thanks again to all, I love getting your reviews, your favourites, and your follows. You are my bread and butter. Enjoy this with wine (lots of) or a joint (if you are so inclined), or perhaps both. Maybe a shot of whiskey to settle the nerves. I'm gonna go find my bottle of scotch. I'm like Pam, I don't drink whiskey.
A week later, Wren remembers a tangle of limbs. It comes to her, shocking her out of another routine pour, and her eyes widen as she watches the foam pour off the top of a glass of amber ale. "Fuck," she breathes, setting the glass aside and closing her eyes to collect herself.
"Y'alright?" Bryant asks from beside her, watching as her neck, and then her ears, flush.
Wren exhales. "Yeah." She smiles distantly, setting the glass of amber up for the waitress that had requested it. She starts on a two handed pour and is reminded of a two-for-one blow job on her knees in the MacManus flat. "Oh," she sighs very softly. This time, she leans back against the counter.
"You sure? You look flushed. Maybe you should take a break," Bryant prods, giving his co-worker a curious look. Her eyelashes are fluttering.
"I'm fine," she waves off breezily.
"Christ above, you love sucking cock, don't ya, lass?"
Connor's voice sweeps through her as the memory of Murphy's blue gaze burns her. The darker MacManus had his balls resting on her chin when his brother commented, and Wren had grinned (how she did that with her lips wrapped around Murphy's dick was still a mystery) and pulled off of Murphy and caught Connor's hip before he could turn away. She hadn't batted an eye before swallowing his cock, just as long, but not so much wide, and Connor had hissed and snared her hair in his fist and tugged sharply. She worked Murphy with one hand, fisting him tightly, while her other hand cupped Connor's balls, her fingertips stroking further back with every pass.
She remembers Pam appearing on her knees in front of her, taking a hold of Connor's erection and pressing her lips to Wren's. Together they move their kiss to the swollen steely head of Murphy's cock, and their tongues slide over the slickness that oozes out the top and Jesus, she didn't think kissing Pam could get any hotter. They share Murphy, make him whimper and moan, and he snares a handful of hair on each head and watches with wide eyes as they do a roundabout on his cock. When he is gasping, they move to Connor, and while they lick and suck, Wren's hand once more finds Connor's balls, tighter now, and hot, and she strokes even further, gently brushing where it is too close for most men. Connor snarls, and then it turns to a whimper, and Pam pulls off and rests her cheek on the hard curve of Connor's erection as she eyes Wren.
"You keep doing that and he's going to come, Wren," Pam purrs.
"You keep doing that and you're going to be broke, Wren," Bryant growls, referring to the overflowing beer and the tight ship the manager runs.
She swears softly and knocks the taps closed, and sets the bars out for pick up.
"Seriously, are you okay? You seem really…spacey."
Wren nods quickly. "It's nothing," she reassures Bryant.
"Yeah, well, that isn't nothing that's printing up there," he says, pointing to the order printer. "Come on, we're backing up."
Connor swears he can still taste Wren all over his face. He is lying in bed after the late shift at the plant, and Murphy isn't home yet, so Connor lets his mind drift. Every day, the memories of that night get clearer, and today he almost lost a finger on the saw when he clearly remembered Pam bouncing on his cock while Wren sat on his face, the two women leaning towards one another and kissing slowly.
He's got it made; one hot as fuck woman riding his cock like a pro, and she knows what he likes and makes her cunt flutter around him with every pass; and another woman, equally hot, and so forbidden it hurts, pressing her sweet little cunt into his eager mouth, and he can feel her flutter around his tongue as she rocks her hips back and forth. Sometimes she's too far to reach, other than pressing her clit with the tip of his tongue, and he swears he can hear her smirk as she calls him the filthiest things she can think of, her fist tightening in his hair.
He'd had a lot of different experiences in the past twelve years since losing his virginity, but having two women go off like rockets on him simultaneously had blown his mind and his load. The memory of Pam sliding off of him right before he came was imprinted in his brain; she had stroked him to a searing finish, his load spattering across Pam's belly and breasts. Wren had scrambled off his face seconds later and knocked the other woman to the floor and let her tongue remove any and all traces of his orgasm. He remembers Murphy's chuckle as he sat up, and then the bottle of vodka being thrust under his nose.
"We're gonna need it ta keep up wit' these girls," Murphy points out.
Connor wipes his mouth and then pushes his sweaty hair back, blinking in the dim light. "I think I'm gonna need a Viagra," he chuckles.
Murphy, however, already has his eyes trained on the pair of women. "Or, we can sit back and watch that for a spell."
Connor swings his gaze left, watching as Pam and Wren share more than a heated gaze. Pam has twisted Wren onto her back and stretches one long leg out, straddling Wren's pelvis and effectively grinding their pussies together in the most erotic sandwich the twins have ever laid eyes on. Pam throws her head back as they touch, and Wren writhes and moans long and hot.
"I do believe you have a valid point," Connor murmurs as he feels the familiar stirrings of arousal flutter through his belly.
Murphy continues to stare, dumbfounded, at the pair of women writing in front of him. His lit cigarette is forgotten in the corner of his mouth. He merely answers, "Aye,", and leans back next to Connor to take in the floor show.
Murphy is standing at Moguls, waiting for his black cherry hot chocolate when his mind begins to wander. It dallies on the day's work, on the pork chop challenge he won (because really, as if Connor had a chance), on remembering to buy cigarettes, on wondering if Rocco was coming out tonight, on the look of pure pleasure plastered on Wren's face as she took not only him, but Connor too, and let them fuck her into the floor.
Well, technically, they fuck him into the floor. Wren pushes him back, clambering over his torso, her mouth melding with his, and Connor's hands grip her hips and pull her back, breaking their kiss as his hands palm her breasts and lift her to hover over Murphy's straining cock. Her legs spasm, and she hooks one hand around Connor's neck, pulling him closer even as she sinks down onto Murphy's cock and all but screams at the pressure and sting. She's tight, unbelievable after all the abuse she's been through, but then again he can't really believe he's got an erection this potent at this stage in the game.
"There's a good lass," Connor purrs, rocking her hips down against his brother. He mutters other dirty things to her, enough to make her wetter, enough to make her quake and quiver around Murphy, and when she's nicely wound up, Connor moves, presses in, and Wren's hands land on Murphy's chest as she hisses a breath and whimpers on this side of pain. She thrashes slightly, trying to buck Connor off, to get closer to Murphy, to just make one of them move. He sees Connor's gaze over her shoulder, sees the desperation in Wren's sweat-soaked stare. He takes her face in his hands and he has to stretch up and contort to kiss her but her mouth is sweet and slack, a moan staining their kiss. His hands move with Connor's, over her breasts and her hips, rubbing, soothing, and together the brothers talk her into their erotic little see-saw.
He sees Pam kneel next to Connor, and he watches them kiss as Connor still moves Wren up and down Murphy's cock. When Murphy's hands have settled on Wren's breasts, Connor and Pam curl their fingers together and trace a sinuous line down Wren's flat belly and delve between her thighs, no doubt strumming her clit, and their tongues continue to tangle. The sound of his own panting becomes harsh in his ears. She's even tighter now, her eyes wide and locked on his face, and Murphy's eyes cross slightly as the kid behind the counter stares a moment at the guy waiting for his hot chocolate.
"Whipped cream?" Wren murmurs. But the voice is wrong.
Murphy is pulled from the fog and blinks at the tall, gangly teenager behind the counter holding his hot chocolate.
"Hmm?" Murphy tries for casual, but he's hoping that nobody in the café is psychic…or aware that he is currently at half mast and quickly rising.
"Whipped cream," the kid drones monotonously and Murphy nods and takes the finished drink and hightails it out of the café.
The whirring of the overhead dryer is lulling Pam to a completely relaxed state. Her eyes wander over the glossy pages of the magazine in her lap, the cup of coffee in her other hand more or less there for show – you wouldn't got to a coffee house to get a haircut, why would you get a cup of coffee at your stylist's? In any event, Ronnie's told her that she's under the dryer for at least thirty minutes, but it would be less, Ronnie scolds her, if she just took the plunge and actually got her hair cut instead of trimmed. Connor would flip, and not in a good way, if she came back missing more than an inch on the length. He raves about her hair, how beautiful it is, and how he loves it long so he's got something to hold on to.
Her mind drifts at that thought. After that night at the twins' flat, she's had a plethora of flashbacks; the slow days at UnLtd Blue are not so hard these days as she's got something to keep her mind occupied. In fact, she'd had to force herself to not think about the MacManus brothers or Wren while she was at her other job. Daydreaming and tattooing were un-mixy things.
There's an article in the magazine called 'How to drive him wild' and Pam skims through it, thoroughly unimpressed. Now, if she wrote the article, she'd have a field day, but the magazine would probably be stacked on the back rack with 'Hustler' and 'Penthouse'.
"Pinch her nipples. Harder," Connor instructs, stealing a glance over his brother's shoulder. "It'll make her come quicker."
She shivers, the memory of both MacManus brothers within her line of sight as Murphy mapped out her body with his mouth and hands.
"Here, I'll show ya," Connor interrupts. He shoves Murphy aside and pulls Pam to all fours as he kneels behind her. Her torso arches up as he folds her arms over her shoulders to hook around his neck, and he lifts her onto his waiting cock, slowly sliding her down until her ass rests against his thighs. "Come on, Pam," he purrs, rotating his hips in the slightest. She hisses and clutches at the hair on the back of his neck as he moves. "Show Murphy how pretty ye are when ya come fer me," he snarls. His hands glide to her breasts and cup them, holding her there while he moves her up and down his length. She's never been so wet; she can feel it slicking her thighs and Connor's lap and her mind is a whirlwind. He plucks her nipples gently at first, and then squeezes, and rolls, and pinches. She's writing in his lap now, her eyes glued to Murphy, watching his blue eyes widen and then go dark and lusty. A moan rattles out of her and she shakes, and behind her Connor hisses his praise.
Murphy snatches Wren as she nears him, and Pam watches with baited breath as the darker MacManus swiftly mounts her without preamble, pushing her shoulders into the floor. As Wren cries out and clutches Murphy's neck, Murphy's gaze continues to bore into Pam's. Murphy hitches his hips, wrenching a wail from Wren and grinning slyly at Pam. She smirks as best she can, and cants her hips back into Connor and squeezes his length for all its worth. Connor rears up and gasps, his hands tightening on her breasts before moving to her hips. She feels his forehead land on her shoulder, his lips swiping along her spine. She licks her lips, eyes locked with Murphy's.
Murphy twists his hips and then sits on his heels, pulling Wren's lower half up his thighs. Her hair fans out beneath her and the new angle makes her whimper desperately, a sound that sends a bolt of pleasure through Pam's belly. She holds her breath and stares as Murphy licks his thumb and lowers it between Wren's thighs. The blonde beneath him squeezes her eyes shut and pants, rolling her hips up to meet him. When Murphy looks back up at Pam, she's watching, her gaze hooded and dazed, and she reaches between her thighs and rolls Connor's balls in her fingers.
"Connor," she gasps, his name a plea and a warning. She's going to come soon and she wants him to come with her.
"Ah, fuck, Pam, yes!" Connor growls, throwing his head back as he feels the molten heat spread from his balls up the base of his spine. "I'm gonna come," he warns.
Pam nods frantically and looks to Murphy, whose flaring nostrils and wild thrusts tell her that he too is going to come. "Fuck," Pam gasps, feeling the heat and cold wash through her limbs. She keens, her wail rising with the intensity of Connor's thrusts, and she vaguely notices Murphy begin to pound into Wren who has resigned to gripping his wrists as his hands guide her hips.
Murphy's shout is hoarse and sharp, a signal of his orgasm, and Wren tumbles behind him. Pam splinters on Connor's cock, but still he pounds her, muttering every filthy name he can think of (and some he's no doubt made up). The cut of his fingernails in her hips is a warning, he strains behind her, his thighs tense and shaking, his breath hot and moist on the back of her neck and he moans long and loud and low and suddenly cries out –
"Okay, I think we're done here, sweetie!"
Pam surges awake under the dryer and upsets the plastic cup of coffee. It's gone cold, and it soaks through the thigh of her jeans. The magazine flutters to the floor and she is gulping for air as her glassy eyes look around wildly, trying desperately to find two naked Irishmen and an equally naked blonde. All she sees is Ronnie in his loud fluorescent orange t-shirt and zebra print pants.
"Oh," Pam husks softly, feeling her cheeks flush.
Ronnie cocks his head at her with a raised (and perfectly plucked) eyebrow. "Did I interrupt something?" he smirks.
Pam swallows thickly, her heartbeat so loud in her ears, she wonders if Ronnie, and the woman next to her, can hear it, too. "I…" she begins slowly. "Ah…fell asleep." It sounds lame in her ears and Ronnie snorts, rolling his eyes.
"Come on, sweetie," Ronnie drones, waving her to his chair with a pair of scissors. "I want to hear more about this fine piece of Irish ass you're nailing."
And Pam has to pause and in her mind, she purrs Which one?