Written for comment_fic on livejournal
Eliot and John were laughing, nearly falling over each other as they joked. Whiskey and a few good hunting stories had made them trust each other a little more than strangers should. Ellen walked over and said, "Closing time, boys. Roadhouse ain't open 24/7 you know."
John leaned over the bar and gave her a smile, and mischievous look from under his eyelashes. "And what do you do after closing time, Ellen?"
"Whatever I want," Ellen said, her tone casual, giving nothing away. But as she flipped off the lights and headed up the stairs to her loft, she said, "You boys coming?"
They sat on the bed, Ellen in the middle. Ellen kissed John, feeling his tongue tease the inside of her mouth. John undid the top button of her shirt and kissed her chest, while Ellen craned her neck to meet Eliot's mouth in a kiss. Eliot could taste John in her, his sweet but pungent whiskey breath. He noticed John deftly opening Ellen's shirt and undoing her belt buckle.
"Not so fast," Ellen said, "I want to see my boys make nice."
Eliot and John complied, bringing their lips together in a long kiss. As they parted, John tugged at Eliot's lip with his teeth.
Soon, Ellen was feeling John skillfully run his tongue up her inner thighs while Eliot was gently caressing and biting her nipples. She moaned as John's mouth reached the wetness between her legs, felt the insistent push of his tongue and the rough scrape of his beard. She put her hands on Eliot's dick and guided it to her mouth, licking small circles on it. But before either climaxed, John stopped, moved over to Eliot, and kissed him, letting him taste Ellen on his tongue.
Ellen brought out the lube and condoms and soon she was bent over the side of the bed, legs spread, Eliot slowly pressing into her from behind. After a couple of minutes of getting used to it, John started working Eliot with his fingers, stretching him, then landing on his prostate. Eliot tried not to move but Ellen could feel Eliot's jolt of arousal coarse through her. John entered Eliot, and his rough, steady movements set the rhythm for the three of them. They moaned and writhed and pushed, and both men nearly lost it when Ellen ground her hips from side to side. Their hands and mouths latched onto whatever was nearest, and as they headed toward climax, they forgot about the world, and all the things that haunted them, knowing only the tangle of pleasure and pressure that had gripped them and pressed them tightly together.
After, they fell back onto the bed, messy, sweaty, covered in each other's juices. Their hard breathing filled the air until John smiled, kissed the head of the girl in his left arm and the boy in his right, and said, "What do want to do now?"
"Now we sleep," Ellen answered with a gentle slap to his shoulder. "Roadhouse opens in three hours."