I crane my neck to seek out my balcony, and I'm rewarded by the exact sight I expect: two cigarette cherries glowing against the wood rail of the banister—two equally bright amber eyes behind one of them—and the outline of two very unique hats which the fairy lights behind my men cast in sharp relief. I allow a smirk to tug at my lips, breathing out a chuckle as Charon catches up to me, tearing my gaze away to land on him instead. At his look of question, I glance up at my balcony in indication, then back down at him to watch his reaction.

"They seem anxious." He lowers his gaze to me, overt concern in his expression. "Are you certain of this, Mistress?"

I drag in a deep, slow breath, tugging two smokes from one of my newly acquired packs and lighting them both. One I give to my... contracted friend? Associate? Mutually assured emotional support net? Fuck, I don't know anymore. The other I keep for myself, drawing a large plume of smoke from the filter between my lips, sucking it in, then letting it billow from my nostrils. I plant my back against the outer edge of the wall outside the Rail, crossing an arm over my ribs and resting the elbow of the hand holding my cigarette on a clenched fist. "I... yeah," I utter, softly enough that it's likely only he hears it, even with Nick and John's keen hearing. "I think so."

Charon remains alert, scanning the area as we smoke and talk. "That does not sound like certainty."

I huff a little laugh, tilting my head in assent. "You're not wrong."

His roaming eyes rest on mine just long enough to return, "I seldom am."

I chuckle, flicking the ash from my smoke. "Yeah, I don't... entirely know what I'm doing here. But I love them both, I can't just... it wouldn't be fair to any of us for us all not to be together." I gesture to the two silhouettes off-handedly. "Those two might not love each other outside of old friendship and camaraderie, but I do love them both and they both love me, Charon. And I don't know how else to make it work."

He rolls his shoulders, wincing slightly at some kink or crick he encounters. "Have you considered that the impetus to 'make it work' is not entirely on you, Mistress?"

I bob my cigarette toward him in indication. "You've got a point, I can't disagree. But that's not to say all of it is on them, either." I sigh, rubbing the heel of my hand into my brow for a moment before I take another drag off my smoke. "Tonight... ah hell... this whole thing is an experiment, not just tonight, really. But yeah, I mean, how else will we figure out if it can even work, unless we test it, y'know? Not to say I'm not nervous as fuck, but..." I shake my head, drawing the last dregs of my cigarette into my lungs and rolling the cherry off, tossing the butt into a nearby trashcan as I exhale, "still gotta try."

He's quiet for a long minute, though his roving gaze has settled solidly on me, his expression mildly bemused, and every bit as wise as his advanced age gives him the right him to be. At length, he looks up to the sight of the two men on the balcony, finally revealing his thoughts aloud, "Might I suggest you not keep them waiting any longer, Mistress?" He drops and steps on his own spent butt. "They have both smoked two cigarettes in the time it has taken you to smoke one."

I snort, glancing up at my... boyfriends? Fuck, I have no idea what to call anybody in my pack anymore, it seems. "Have they, now? Well. At least I'm not the only ones whose nerves are frazzled. Good to know."

Charon nods. "I thought you might see it as such."

I smirk and shove off the wall, patting his arm and heading over to my elevator. "Goodnight, Charon. Hope you don't get too bored. And get some sleep, sometime before tomorrow afternoon, damn it." I arch a brow at him. "That is an order."

He sighs and grumbles, but eventually acquiesces about halfway to my door. "As you wish, Mistress."

"Glad to hear it." I point above the door, at the radio lodged atop the door's arch. "Got a radio if you want to ah... drown anything out. Or just to listen to, whatever."

He merely arches his own brow at me, as the rumble of the elevator making the trip down starts behind me. He takes up what I suppose is his preferred posting for the night, his back against the wall just to the left of the door, arms tightly crossed; eyes returning to their slow scan of the area contained within the small alleyway.

The elevator grinds to a clunking halt, and I open the old wooden outer door, heading into the tiny alcove that leads to the elevator door itself. A red frock coat is the first thing my eyes catch onto, as my view lifts from my boots' toes to find the elevator's occupant, just as the door slides aside. A devilish smirk is the next thing I see, followed by the endless abyss of John Hancock's eyes, now turned to deeply shadowed pools of jet black oil under the brim of his hat.

I can't decide whether to laugh, run away, or have him fuck me against the lift wall.

Is all three an option?

God, this is really it.

Finally.

She looks like she's thinkin' real hard about pinnin' him to a wall, and he's never been so turned on by the thought that it might actually happen in his whole damned life.

But she hasn't moved, despite that hungry look she's giving him, and he's beginning to wonder why, until he notices she's actually trembling.

"Whoa, whoa there, sunshine, are you... is everything okay?" he asks with his gentlest tone, reaching carefully for her with gingerly outstretched fingers, taking a slow step toward her.

A shaky nod issues from her, followed by a halting, "Y-yeah. M'f-fine." Even she winces at her stuttering, and he is far less than convinced.

"Hey, c'mere," he waves her toward him with a crooking of his fingers, only continuing when she's folded in his arms, "did somethin' happen? The talk with Charon not go well?"

She shakes her head against his shoulder, wisps of her hair tickling the side of his throat. "N-no, that went b-better than exp-pected, actually."

John rubs her back, tucking her head under his chin as well as he's able, trying every which way to provide her comfort and a sense of safety. "Then what's wrong, darlin'? You're shakin' like you're jonesin' or somethin'."

He feels her shrug and the shiver that accompanies it just before she answers, "Just... n-nervous." She withdraws from him just enough to look him in the eye, a thin but slowly growing smile on her lips. "And maybe j-jonesin' a little b-bit."

John lifts both brows in surprise. He didn't think she'd become addicted to anything but the smokes, so it's news to him. "Whatcha need, sunshine? I don't have everything on me right now, but I got a selection, and we can go get more if I ain't got what ya want."

Shana shakes her head, the smile curving into something impish, though it's still fighting through thick overlying layers of nervousness—dare he call it fear? Sure feels like fear, but he doesn't really want to think of what she could possibly be afraid of. He'd much rather chalk her shaking up to withdrawal symptoms than fear—to reach the surface. "No. It's n-not a c-chem. S'just you."

If he still had more than a few scraggly bits of hair left, he'd say his eyebrows were climbing into his hairline at this very moment, but as it is, he'll settle for wide-eyed shock. "Me? Is that what this is about? You nervous 'cause of what we got planned for tonight?"

He sees her swallow, then nod. "Yeah, it's... I-I'm scared, really. I mean it's..." she deflates a bit with a sigh. "S'all well n' g-good when it's a theory of how s-shit should go, b-but when you... I... fuck." She bites her lip and looks off to the side despondently.

He lifts a pitted hand to curl his forefinger under her chin, giving kind little encouragements to look back up at him with it until she finally does. "Darlin', you don't have to do this right now if—"

"No!" she interrupts, eyes wide, "No, I—I want to." Her hands cup his face, and though she's still a bit trembly overall, her hands are mostly steady. "I w-want to, John. I'm just w-worried as all hell, that's all."

He levels his best frown of concern at her. "Are you sure about that, sunshine? You can stop this, anytime. You know Nicky won't mind any more than I would."

There's a second of hesitation, before she plies, "Call me sunshine again."

He smiles, more than a little surprised at the request, though he can't help but be pleased by it at the same time. "Anything you need, sunshine. Always."

A shuddering exhale gusts against his exposed chest, the frills of his shirt brushing his skin as they're buffeted by the current. She closes her eyes and goes still for the count of three, then opens them and draws a breath in, catching his gaze with a more sure smile. "Okay."

John has to check. He's not letting her go into this unless she's really ready. "Okay? Y'sure?"

Shana nods evenly now. "Yeah. I'm... I'm okay. Let's... let's go." She steps into the elevator of her own volition, though she does leave one hand clinging to his as she turns and presses the button for her floor. She looks back to him with a smile, though the nerves still worry her eyes. "I love you."

He leans over and presses a gentle kiss to her lips, murmuring against them, "I love you too, sunshine."

As the elevator concludes its ascent with a series of groaning clicks, I lift my eyes from the door and take in the sight of my little apartment, which now seems so much smaller for being dominated by the large bed against the far window wall.

Nick is standing out on the balcony, looking in through the open door, and by his cautious smile, I get the feeling he either heard what I'd said below somehow, or he's just as nervous as I am. "Well hello, doll."

I squeeze John's hand to ground myself one last time, then take my first real step into this new, strange relationship. You have to walk before you can run, after all.

I smile a bit bashfully once the elevator slides closed behind us, returning Nick's greeting at last. "Hello, handsome."

Nick's brows shoot up in surprise, then twist into skepticism. "'Handsome'? You sure you're lookin' at the right person, doll?"

John snorts. "What, like she could call me that any easier? You hidin' some good-lookin' guy in here somewhere, Nicky?"

I shake my head and half-drag John into the room, reaching out to snatch the closer of Nick's hands and tug it to get him to haul his own—far too heavy for me to move—ass into my room. I lead them both to the bed, pushing until the backs of their knees hit it and they have little choice but to sit, about a foot apart from each other. I carefully lift the hats from each of their heads, and set them on the desk, then turn to look at them both.

"Rule number one for tonight: no self-deprecation." I approach them, laying a hand on the cheeks furthest from me as I near them, looking between my two men and taking a steadying breath. "You both mean the world to me, and you're both handsome in your own rights, for so many reasons."

I focus on John, though my hands stay where they are. "John. Your smile lights up my heart, and your eyes set off an unquenchable blaze in... a much lower region, every time I look at them." I grin at his naked surprise upon learning that particular tidbit. "You keep me steady in a world that wants to rob everything of its goodness at every turn. I love how much you enjoy exploring, both that world and me. I love that you have the patience to do it."

I stroke his cheek, then turn my attention to Nick. "Nicky. Oh, Nicky. Your eyes might not be gray anymore, but I can still see the storms the clouds give up for them, plain as the tie around your neck." I chuckle softly. "I love waking up to see you watching over me out there. I love every part of you, no matter how battered or tattered or raw." I let slip my hand from his cheek to his jaw, trailing fingertips along the blunted edge of what amounts to his jawbone. "I love your soul. It's always shone so brightly for me, guiding me out of the darkness."

I back away from them, letting my hands fold over my stomach as they fall from Nick and John. "Rule two: share. Take turns. We're going to have to ease into this, and I don't..." I blush as several dozen possible situations slam their way through my conscious thoughts before I can push them away, "I don't think I could handle both of you at once, yet. But I fully plan on both of you getting equal attention tonight, so—"

"Shana," John interrupts.

I blink in surprise, then tilt my head. "Yes?"

He pats the bed between him and Nick. "Just c'mere and let us take care of you. Please."

I straighten, slightly taken aback at first. I glance at Nick, who's donned a fondly amused smirk, and eyes the spot John patted when he catches onto me peeping at him. I swallow the lump in my throat—though it doesn't entirely go away, to my consternation—and slowly, tensely, I near them, turn, and sit.

John immediately claims my right thigh with his hand, Nick my left, and before I know what's happening, Nick's tilted around in front of me, licking his way into my mouth, and John—imp that he is—is making his way up my neck with tongue and lips and teeth, aiming straight for that spot just behind my earlobe which he keeps eying when he thinks I'm not watching him—the same spot he found the last time he had me in his lap. By the time he reaches that spot and coaxes the first moan from me, Nick is there to swallow and return it with an eagerness that still surprises me.

I barely have the wherewithal to brace myself well enough to remain upright, instead of melting into a useless puddle. I told them I couldn't handle—oh, holy fuck!

One of them has slid their hand from my thigh and gone straight for the kill, slowly rubbing his fingers up and down the crotch of my vault suit; gentle, but firm, and I break the kiss to throw my head back and cry my arousal to the art deco ceiling. John is relentless in his teasing, and it's only belatedly that I realize it's his hand massaging me. But then, without missing a single beat, Nick abandons the pursuit of my lips and mirrors John's attentions on his side of my neck, and I am utterly lost.

There's a hand—so warm, so firm and warm—cupping and lithely caressing my left breast, a thumb rolling over a quickly pebbling nipple as if it's an afterthought—a very purposeful, random, enticing afterthought—and I feel the bed depressing and releasing its tension beside me as Nick shifts until he's on his knees, mouth only leaving my neck at the last possible moment. The hand on my breast shifts and spreads, thumb and forefinger resting splayed on my collarbones, gingerly pushing me down onto my back.

John cottons onto what Nick's doing the moment after I begin to let myself be guided down, releasing my neck in favor of my ear lobe and adjusting his stroking accordingly.

Deft fingers gingerly pull my zipper down without any further preamble, the moment my back hits the blanket.

Fuck.

He can't help but lift his head from the attention he's giving her earlobe when he hears the zipper being pulled. His eyes watch Nick's pale fingers, trailing the zipper down, down, down, to just above where his own fingers work her through the fabric.

He swallows, knowing he's going to start drooling if he doesn't shut his trap, so he promptly does so.

Crisis momentarily avoided, he snatches his gaze up to see Nicky brushing the gold-trimmed material aside, revealing a pert handful of a breast to their eyes.

Nick is quick to tease the dusky rose-colored nipple, lathing soft, slow licks and gentle pinches of his lips around it, Shana's breath hitching and her hips moving against John's hand for firmer contact as Nick works her.

John slips his hand up from the apex of her legs—she lets off the most delicious whine at the initial loss of contact, pressing her thighs together instead, chasing that high—letting his palm drift lightly over the newly freed expanse of skin, allowing his fingers to trace her softness and nearly weeping for its aching perfection. He skirts narrowly between her breasts, smoothing his way up over her sternum, left collarbone, then neck, holding steady there once his fingers curl over the gentle curve of it. His thumb tracks its way over that spot she favors, just brushing feather soft over it on his way to her jaw, carefully turning her head toward him with its slight influence.

He marvels at the sight of her as she opens her eyes to meet his, her so obviously drunk on sensation in the moment that he smiles at her own hazy grin. He leans down and teases her lips with his own, gentle, prodding kisses and licks, followed by more insistent nips; until something Nicky does makes her moan and he gives up all pretense of teasing and kisses the daylights out of her, swallowing that sound whole.

He kisses her until maddeningly, he finds he needs air more than her lips, at least for the few seconds it takes him to fill his lungs thoroughly.

A particularly ecstatic cry has him turning and basking in the view as Nick's hand takes over where his has slacked, only under the suit, now that the way is mostly cleared. Her hitching breaths and fervent moans chorus the wet sounds now escaping from Nicky's efforts, both at her breast and slit.

John smirks crookedly at it all, re-focusing on Shana's face, watching her descent into pleasured frenzy with great relish. He decides after a time spent observing, to again become an active participant, sliding his thumb to his side of her jaw and gently tilting her chin toward Nick, to once more give him access to that place just behind her earlobe that she loves so fucking much.

She fights him once she realizes his goal, shaking her head, eyes as wide as her delirious felicity allows her. "No, don't I'll... too soon—" she cuts herself off with a fevered gasp, biting her own lip and moaning wantonly until she releases it with a puffed breath.

After what appears to be a moment of deliberation, she turns her head of her own volition, arching her neck to give him the best access, giving in with a reckless abandon that he shivers exquisitely at the sight of.

Leaning down, he only teases the sensitive patch of skin at first, light brushes and feather-soft kisses, until her movements against Nick's hand become unavoidably noticeable. Only once she begins to writhe almost mindlessly, chasing after her peak, does he begin to suck and nip at the spot, dragging a keening cry from her lips that he dare not silence with his own, for fear of corrupting the purity of her sweet release.

John leans back, resting his head on his left hand, his right slowly trailing down her chest as it rises and falls at a pace that would concern him under any other circumstance. He watches as Nicky slowly retracts his fingers from her, nearly mirroring John's pose on the other side of her as Nick brings his glistening left hand up to his lips, sucking the fingers into his mouth and letting off a truly salacious groan which John finds... surprisingly arousing.

Well.

That was unexpected.

Oh God, the taste of her is beyond exquisite. He hadn't anticipated enjoying that particular flavor in the same way as Nick's body had, but apparently, he's been missing out with his current taste buds. Either that, or it's simply been so long that he'd forgotten what it's like.

Whatever the case, it's nearly the straw that breaks the camel's back in his decision on how he plans to play this. It's tempting to change things up, but no, no; he's come this far, he's not going to pack up and ignore his preference, no matter how good she tastes. He'll get to enjoy that sapor again, with a far more personal close-up soon enough, if he gets his way.

He looks down at her, just as she smiles up at him, her body spread in languid, boneless repose between him and John, not a care in the world lingering behind those shockingly blue eyes. He lifts his smirking face to peer over at John, only to find his friend already looking back at him, something akin to surprised realization etched in his gaunt features. John swiftly yanks his gaze away, down to turn it upon Shana instead; an unsteady smile forced onto his lips, which slowly turns into something with real feeling behind it.

Nick files the observation away for later perusal and dissection.

He has bigger fish to fry right now.

He leans down, nuzzling her cheek, kissing her skin, murmuring into her ear, "I think it's time John took his turn, don't you agree?" He backs away with a playful smirk, watching her softly blushing reaction.

"You sure? You don't want to join in?" she asks, reaching for him, concern piercing through her mounting eagerness.

He chuckles, nodding once. "Oh, I'm sure. After all, I enjoy observing every bit as much as I love to partake."

Both she and John lift their brows in curious intrigue. Nick grins at her, leaning in for a final, lingering kiss, then rising and planting himself in the desk chair, turned to face and observe them with keen interest.

I can't help but watch Nicky as hard as he watches us both, though John's efforts to go along with this impromptu performance are ever so mightily distracting me. Eventually, it's diverting enough that I manage to rip my attention from Nick, and finally pounce on John. I ravish his mouth with the searing intent of my own, pushing him back flat on the bed and straddling his hips, almost as a harried afterthought.

By the time the warmth of my now thoroughly soaked core makes it through to meet with the rising heat of his own arousal, I've broken the kiss, righting myself above him and grinding down on him lightly as I strip my upper half bare, finally freeing my torso to the cool night air drifting in through the open balcony door.

John thrusts up with a groan as he fills two hands with my breasts, just as my own hands push the fabric of the suit down to pool at my hips. My hands settle on his chest as he explores me freely, his eyes slowly taking me in—all hints of evaluation long obliterated in the face of an apparently rather acute desire to memorize every single detail, as if he fears never getting another chance.

I let him ogle me as he likes, though I put my hands to better use as I wait, setting them to the task of untying the flag at his hips. The fabric is thin and soft under my touch, and he sidetracks my efforts with a thrust that he times with his thumbs flicking over my nipples, making me gasp in surprised pleasure. Still, I am stubborn, and my continued efforts garner results. I let the weathered flag's ends rest on either side of his hips, turning my attention to his jeans now, that process far more straightforward than the odd knot he'd tied the flag in.

Just before I manage to grasp the zipper pull, he shifts his hands to my waist and tucks me to him, rolling us neatly to wrest my position on the top from me. He smirks down at me, and I can only describe his expression as smugly adoring, as though he's captured a wild and rare love, and tamed it just enough to ride it.

Perhaps he has, at that.

He sits back, sliding his hands down my sides, catching his fingers in the folds of my vault suit and slowly, tenderly shedding it from my form, like the second skin it's become. It's peeled from my skin with deft efficiency, along with my boots and socks, leaving me utterly bare, and when he turns back from disposing of it all onto the floor, it's to take me in with the kind of fascination a starving man eyes a juicy steak with.

I give him a lopsided, self-conscious grin, then slide my focus to Nick just beyond him, whose gaze has taken on an intensity that utterly devastates every single one of my nerves with want. I snap my attention back to John and reach up, fisting the fabric of his coat in my hands and dragging him down to my level, his arms bracing beside me just in the nick of time as I wrap my legs around his narrow waist and steal his lips for my own.

The surprised sound he grunts into my mouth quickly melds into a groan, then a growl as I roll my hips against his, the motion returned immediately and enthusiastically. I disentangle my fingers from his frock, sliding them down between us and resuming my attempt at his zipper, which I manage to wriggle down halfway before he pulls back and looks down at my hand, then up at me with a cocky grin.

"Well. Someone's eager to get on with the bed christening."

I snort, quirking my brows incredulously at him. "And you're not?" I shoot back, lowering the hand on his zipper to cradle his obvious erection through the denim.

A half-gasped curse escapes him, his eyelids falling to half-mast before he slowly schools his face and smirks at me in a way that I know means the best and worst kind of trouble. "Well, I never said that, darlin'."

I arch a brow in obvious challenge, reaching up and tugging that damned zipper the rest of the way down, slipping my hand beneath the denim and cupping him through his briefs, stroking along his shaft teasingly. "Well, in that case, I'd say you're far too clothed, and that needs to get remedied, with a quickness." I reach up with my unoccupied hand, hooking a finger under his chin, urging him closer to me until I'm satisfied enough to tack on a, "Please," strained through teeth clenched in tense desperation.

John stares, wide-eyed and hungry for a long second, then suddenly wrenches himself back, fingers frantically working at his remaining garments. By the time he's kicked his boots over the side of the bed and started to work on his socks, I lose track of whatever thin thread of patience I had hold of. When he finishes and lowers himself over my frame, my hands are already reaching for him, legs hooking behind him and locking him in place possessively.

He holds himself up just enough to slide his shaft along my wet heat without slipping inside, teasing us both, as if we weren't already past the point of ready. Finally, he shifts his weight to his left side, right hand grasping his cock and tilting its head at my entrance. He lifts his eyes to meet mine, and it hits me after he stays in place for a few seconds that he's asking for permission.

Fucking hell I love this ghoul.

I smile and press my calves against the backs of his thighs, nodding once.

With a grateful moan, he sinks into me, lowering his mouth to my chest as he listens to my pleasured sighs, seeming to revel in the moment just as much as I do. I've never seen him so unbearably happy as when he first begins to really move within me; his eyes watching mine intently while he both takes and gives pleasure with his careful, measured thrusts.

But, much as I know there are many possible reasons why he would wish to draw this out, they to not align with my current desires, whatsoever. I crook my finger at him, one hand sliding up his arm to rest on the back of his neck as he moves up my body to comply. Once he's looking directly down at me, I press a warm kiss to his lips, then ease kisses and nips along his jaw until I reach where his ear once existed.

"I'm not going to break, John," I murmur, a soft whisper of a chuckle following, "Move, or I'll move us." I nip teasingly at the corner of his jaw, curling an amused purr into the air next to his ear hole.

His answer is in a strained, breathy undertone, "Sunshine, I go any faster, this'll all be over way sooner than I want it to be. Got a little... too wound up. I want you to feel good, too."

I rest my free hand on his shoulder, my other hand lifting to stroke his scalp comfortingly. "I already do, John. Let go. I wanna watch you fuck me and come inside me. Let me see that, please?"

He draws back to look at me like he's not entirely sure he heard me correctly. "Y'sure?"

I nod, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips that he follows back down. "M'sure," I murmur against his lips.

John backs up, righting himself and sitting back on his heels, pulling me with him, hands gripping my hips as he looks down at me with a smirk and a shake of his head, and finally begins to pump faster. "Remember you asked for it, darlin'."

I nibble my lip on a smile that spreads wide as I watch him. "Begged for it, love."

His eyes slide shut, jaw slackening an inch before he regains control and refocuses on me. "Fuck, how do you exist?"

I trail a hand up his stomach, grinning as I answer, "By being too stubborn to die before I had you."

The grip of his fingers becomes bruising, but I hardly even notice as he bites his lip and pounds his cock into me in earnest.

I smirk and tighten my walls around him as he slips out, causing his pace to stutter as he thrusts back in, uttering a tight curse as his tempo falters, pace turning erratic and frantic until he can't help himself any longer. He slams himself into me one final time, a strained, high admission of my name prying itself from his lips, followed by the escape of a deeply satisfying groan of release.

John stays there for a long moment, vaguely twitching within and without me, watching me through nearly squinted eyes as he pants, languid in his recovery. Once his arms stop trembling, he slowly pries his fingers from my hips, and crawls forward with his hands until he's bracing himself on them above me, then belatedly lowers himself to his elbows when he realizes he's still shaking too much to stay there. His eyes trace over my features with a wonder that borders on reverence, the lazy smile forming on his lips the perfect accompaniment to the gentle kisses he starts to pepper on my skin.

I'm smiling my contentedness and stroking his head and back in soothing motions when he leans down to my ear and says, "Well darlin', you've had me. But you can't die now, hear me? You keep that stubborn streak up. I want to get a lot more chances to make you feel good after this, alright sunshine?"

I nuzzle a kiss to his cheek and nod gently. "Alright, love."