Martin—

It seemed both odd and comforting to slip under the covers of Douglas' bed and slide against Charlie. This was now the fourth time he'd slept here, and Martin found himself still feeling the twin emotions of apprehension and delight. On the practical level this was much better than his futon in the attic and the added warmth of another pair of bodies was heavenly. On the salacious level, the press of Charlie's curves against him kept him half-erect most of the time anyway, and if he was completely honest, the knowledge that Douglas was close by held an odd attraction as well.

Martin wasn't gay, but he didn't deny that Douglas was a handsome man in his own right. Certainly he had plenty of qualities to envy starting with a terrific head of hair that wasn't curly and red. Then there were his long eyelashes and dangerous smirk . . . aaaaand it all was starting to sound as if he had a crush on the man, Martin thought after an annoyed moment. He didn't, of course—Douglas was a know-it-all berk and a pain in the arse most of the time which countered his better qualities whenever one of them showed through.

So the fact that he'd gone from sleeping alone in a drafty garret to being situated comfortably in a large bed with a beautiful woman he adored off-set the uncomfortable awareness that there was a third party in said bed and that third party did have some attractive qualities. Martin could deal with that just fine, as long as he didn't let himself think about the beautiful woman he loved and the third party at the same time, because that brought to mind images that left him a bit . . . fidgety.

Damn it, Martin mentally sighed. Difficult enough to manage the day-to-day living around Douglas, but picturing him making love to Charlie was supposed to be annoying and frustrating, not . . . arousing. Charlie was lovely and vibrant and Martin loved the taste of her lush mouth, the soft tickle of her corkscrew curls. Those were things he'd thought about and fantasized playing with and those fantasies hadn't included sharing them with anyone else.

And yet . . . and yet the thought of Douglas' hands along Charlie's bare spine made Martin squirm a bit. It wasn't about seeing his First Officer's vaunted technique so much as it was about possibly watching Douglas make Charlie happy.

This, Martin knew, was kinky. Definitely not normal for a red-blooded man to be stirred by and yet he was realizing that it was true. He loved Charlie, loved being able to make her squeak and go breathless, the taste of her hot skin was possibly the most luscious flavor on the earth. All of the goodness of the woman was right there so why, why couldn't he savor his good luck and not feel compelled to share and watch?

A dilemma, he brooded, completely unprepared for the warm hand that slithered across his stomach and brought him out of his reverie. Martin fought a grin as those fingers stroked his belly; he scooted closer to Charlie.

"You should be sleeping," she whispered, her lips lingering close to his ear.

"So should you," came Martin's quiet retort. "Especially given the day you've had."

"Mmmm, well I'm warm and safe right now," Charlie assured him, "Not sleepy."

Martin was aware of her hand moving south down his body and his enthusiasm surged forth, nudging against her questing fingers like a puppy eager for petting. It was embarrassing how quickly his body responded to her, and Martin made a little agonized sound deep in his throat, but Charlie merely shifted closer and pressed her lips against his temple, her words soft. "Shhhhh."

It dawned on Martin just as her grip encircled him that she was intent on caressing, and he stiffened all the more, aware of their precarious situation. Being in bed with Charlie was thrilling; knowing that Douglas was less than an arm's reach away was starting to put matters into overdrive. Martin gritted his teeth to stop himself from hyperventilating (among other things) and then Charlie kissed the underside of his chin.

"We can be quiet," she whispered. "Please?"

Martin nodded, aware that he was now truly caught between heat and humiliation. Charlie straddled him, reaching down to guide his shaft between her thighs and as she did so Martin risked a glance over at Douglas's broad back. There was no movement from him, no indication he was even awake. A second later Charlie slowly impaled herself on his cock and it took every ounce of control Martin had not to bray with pleasure at the sensation. As it was, Charlie herself muffled a moan against her own shoulder, then leaned down to nuzzle his face, her wild hair fluffing everywhere.

"Need this," she murmured to him. "Oh darling . . ."

They rocked together slowly, drawing out the intimacy in slow deep strokes. Martin slid his hands around the bouncy perfection of Charlie's ass, let his grip glide over the rounded curves of her hips and ultimately slid his hands along the insides of her thighs, his thumbs gliding down to the slick heat where her body joined with his. She struggled not to make noise, and leaning forward, her glorious chest bobbled against his face.

Heat. Friction. Joy. Martin felt Charlie tense around him, her body faltering out of rhythm as it shook with pleasure under his thrusts and caresses. The sensation was too much and before she'd finished he joined her, the searing surge of animal lust rocketing through his system in thrilling pulses.

Charlie slumped on top of him, her breathing settling down again, a soft purr against his ear. "Thank you darling."

"Mmmm, very welcome darling." He cast a cautious look across the mattress. "I hope we didn't wake—"

"No, no," Douglas replied over his shoulder. "I've been awake for ages, actually."

"Oh GOD," Martin moaned, humiliation flushing his entire body. He tensed, but Charlie kissed his chin and then spoke up, her voice quavering but her words firm.

"Douglas, that was very cruel of you," she chided. "We would have stopped, if you'd objected."

"Precisely," came the low reply. "I can't say the three of us won't have an awkward moment or two in the morning, but on the whole it was remarkably fascinating. Even uplifting, to a certain degree."

Martin froze, his mind trying to grasp meaning from Douglas' words but physical lassitude was settling in despite himself; the warm weight of Charlie had a calming effect that way.

"Douglas," he began, and couldn't think of what else to say.

"Go to sleep, Martin," came the calm reply. "Lord knows you should be slipping into a coma by this point."

"Douglas," he heard Charlie begin, but Douglas gave a sigh.

"Not tonight, darling," he murmured. "But thank you. Just—curl around me, and Martin can curl around you and we'll all head back to the land of Nod, all right?"

It seemed the safest course of action, even if it felt a bit cowardly, and Martin obediently did as directed, slipping an arm around Charlie's bare waist and burying his nose in the crook of her neck, letting his body slowly drift off. Fatigue won out over fretting and in the end he slept.

Charlie—

She should have known, but that reckless need to make love had overridden her common sense. Charlie understood herself, knew that after the fury and fear of the break-in that the best comfort in the world would be to lose herself in Martin or Douglas' arms.

It hadn't been unexpected. Charlie knew that Douglas, ever the keen observer had probably smelt the pheromones that had lingered between her and Martin all through dinner and she certainly didn't put it past him to orchestrate the evening to their logical event. The man was after all, a romantic, and prone to lovely gestures.

Still, Charlie thought as she slithered down and off the mattress, yawning in the early morning light, it was going to make the day uncomfortable unless she opened up the dialog over a decent breakfast.

Fortunately Douglas had a well-stocked larder and she spent the next forty minutes making fruit salad and waffles, keeping her hands busy as she thought about what she was going to say. Charlie made both tea and coffee, and let the scents do their work, amused when Douglas limped out of the bedroom first, tousled and wrapped up in his bathrobe. She came over to him and kissed him lightly, aware of the dark stubble along his cheeks. "Good morning, darling."

"Good morning," Douglas murmured back, his nose twitching. "I must say, the quality of the meals around here has gone up tremendously. Waffles!"

"Waffles. You're not going to give Martin a difficult time this morning are you?" Charlie wanted to know as she studied his face.

"You're bribing me," came the slightly hurt reply.

"I'm not, I'm . . . trying to make breakfast a pleasant experience," Charlie soothed, brushing his cheek with her fingers. "About last night . . ."

"Yes, it was rather novel, wasn't it? Rather like listening the soundtrack to an erotic film in stereo," Douglas teased her lightly. "You've no idea how tempted I was to roll over and watch, but knowing Sir that would have put him right off his game and even I'm not that much of a bastard."

"You're not a bastard in any sense," Charlie shot back, her beautiful mouth twisting in a wry grin. "Bit of a perv maybe, and not the only one around here, but that's acceptable."

"By my count there are three of us who fit that last description," Douglas told her confidently. "And regarding last night—" He gave her one of those rare bittersweet smiles he had; the ones that threatened to break her heart. "It definitely managed to stir but not shake the procreational limb to put it some foreplay I might have been able to perform, but it wasn't the time or place, darling. Last night was for you and Martin."

Charlie rolled her eyes. "Stop being noble, Douglas—it's not natural for you! I want to apologize for, well, putting you in such an awkward situation. Honestly, I thought you were asleep, and I knew Martin was awake, and I felt . . ."

"In need of some comfort," Douglas finished. "Charlie, it's all right. It's more than all right—one of the very reasons I had us all together was so that you would feel . . . safe."

She very nearly teared up again; Douglas has that rare ability touch her heart by his very sweetness. Charlie wrapped her arms around him tightly, breathed in the warm masculine scent along his neck. Douglas hugged her back tightly, and she felt him give a deep sigh, his hands sliding along her back under the tee-shirt.

"I love you, Douglas Richardson," Charlie whispered. "You are wonderful."

"I love you," he replied, "and I wish I was. I'm not, but I do have my moments."

And at that moment Martin slunk out, looking half-sheepish and half defiant in blindingly loud plaid boxer shorts. Charlie pursed her mouth at him and Douglas turned, arching an eyebrow at him.

"I'm not embarrassed," he told them, his face bright red. "I've thought about it and frankly I've decided that I am not, in fact embarrassed, no matter what you think."

"Of course not," Douglas agreed in a mild tone. "Nor should you be."

Charlie bit her lips to stop from laughing as Martin did a double-take, his expression shifting from rebellious to slightly confused. "All right then. Good."

"Yes," Douglas agreed. "You were. I was listening carefully and I definitely can vouch that you have a real knack for shagging, Martin."

"Douglas!" Charlie chided him.

"No I mean it," Douglas countered. "You could have a second career if you put your—well not your mind to it, but still-"

Martin marched up to Douglas and locked eyes with him; Charlie tensed, wondering if matters were going to come to blows and if she'd have to separate the two of them.

"If I didn't know what I do know about you I'd take offense at that, Douglas, but being as I do know, I'm not going to," Martin announced. "Furthermore, the important thing is that Charlie is happy, right?"

"Absolutely," Douglas agreed with equanimity. "That being said, our relationship demands that we continue to engage in the spirit of masculine and competitive one upsmanship that defines us, don't you think?"

"It's too early to think," Martin muttered and yawned. "Look Douglas, I'm sorry we woke you, and but I'm not sorry about making love with Charlie and I never will be."

"Good," Douglas nodded. "The same goes for me of course, although my encounters will probably be a bit more . . . scheduled."

"Hallo? Can we not talk around the lover in question here?" Charlie complained. "I was a part of the events of last night you know."

They both looked at her, expressions softening and Charlie had to laugh; Douglas and Martin looked like a pair of naughty schoolboys caught playing tug of war over a dead badger. She put her hands on her hips and smirked at the two of them. "Look you two—this is all very . . . unconventional, and we're bound to have some bumps along the way, but for the moment I suggest we have breakfast and think about the day, yes?"

"Right, as always, darling," Douglas sighed, and Martin gave her a quick, grateful kiss as he headed for the tea.