Bow Chicka Bow Wow
Title: Scruba Dub Dub
Pairing: Flyomington (Agent Florida/Agent Wyoming/Agent Washington)
Warning(s): Threesomes, M/M/M Sex, M/M Sex, Blowjobs, Semi-Public Sex, Public Sex, Hair-Pulling, Shower Sex, BDSM Play, BDSM, BDSM Undertones, Consensual, Etc.
Description: It was York's stupid comment that started this whole mess. "Don't drop the soap, Wash!" Yeah, this was all his fault. If he hadn't said it, then Wash wouldn't have dropped it, and THIS certainly wouldn't have happened...
A/N: (Someone requested Flyomington on Tumblr). A FLYOMINGTON REQUEST!? Well, who am I to deny you such a wonderful ship? WARNING: This fic contains M/M/M sexual content. If you're uncomfortable with this, I can make an alternate fic where it only suggests that they fucked, but skips that scene entirely. Sorry it's not very long, but I hope it suffices nonetheless!
"Don't drop the soap, Wash!" York says as he walks towards the exit of the locker-room, slapping the rookie heavily on the back as he passes by.
"Fuck off," Washington growls it out, his voice full malice as he unties his shoes and kicks them off. "You think I wanna shower at two in the fucking morning!? If it weren't for the lousy schedules on this ship..."
"Oh? Is Agent Washington actually insulting the Director's flawless schedule?" South asks, joining in on bagging on Wash. "Wow, Washy. What would the Director say if he heard you saying such awful things?"
Washington has half a mind to tell them both that the Director would agree, because he probably actually would, considering how many times he's been screwed over by the ship's scheduling team. He doesn't in the end though, shaking his head as he looks away, huffing childishly under his breath. He hates showering at night, mainly because it's so quiet on the ship. Not to mention... that's when Florida and Wyoming tend to 'sneak about' the MOI, getting into God knows what mischief. York thinks they have sex in the Director's office. Wash hopes to God he's wrong.
"It won't be so bad, Wash," North assures the other blond, ruffling Wash's hair as he dresses himself in his pajamas. "Just wash up quick and get to bed, okay? I'm sure Florida and Wyoming will leave ya be."
"Yeah right... you guys suck, ya know that?" He doesn't mean it, of course, but Wash has been acting salty all day since he learned he would have to shower in the dead of night.
"Have fun, Wash. Call me if ya don't die." South orders, leaving the locker-room with York and North hot on her tails.
Washington lets out a sigh of relief once they're gone, yawning loudly before he begins unbuttoning his jeans and tugging them off, along with his boxers. After that he throws his hoodie off, his T-shirt going with it, and steps into the showers. At the very least, he doesn't have to share a shower-head with anyone. Wash perks up at that thought, beginning to loosen up as he turns on the last shower-head in the room, allowing the warm spray of water to wash over him, relaxing his muscles as he shuts his eyes, trying to clear his head of all his worries. He stops, however, hand reaching for the soap-bar, when the locker-room doors open from across the room.
He listens carefully, ready to run for it in-case one of the other Freelancers. Thankfully, that's not the case as Wash hear unarmored feet walk into the locker-rooms, two pairs of feet if he's hearing them correctly. Wash stays quiet, for whatever reason, and listens as the two strangers in the locker-room start undressing, the sounds of zippers unzipping and shoes being kicked off a good indicator. Wash blushes, hoping against hope that it's not two crewmen or Freelancers trying to get it on. After a few more minutes of shuffling, the footsteps come into the shower room. Wash looks away, hoping that they'll get the idea that he doesn't wanna talk.
The unnamed strangers ignore Wash as the Freelancer tries to focus on showering and leaving as fast as possible. However, as he goes for the soap-bar, it slips out of his grip and splashes onto the floor, slipping down to the doorway of the shower room. "Shit!" He shouts, blindly running after it, forgetting about the two strangers in the shower with him.
Wash remembers them, however, as he finally crouches down and catches the bar, going beet red all over as his hand brushes over a foot. He can feel eyes on him, and God, what a sight he must make right now. Washington shivers with dread, not knowing what to say. An apology? Maybe. If he had only been thinking before he tried to go after the stupid soap! They probably got an eyeful of his dick while he ran after it, too. As Wash kept thinking about it, he became more and more embarrassed, until he was convinced that he would soon melt into a puddle of sticky shame.
"Aw, would ya look at that," An all too familiar voice suddenly coos from above Wash, making the Freelancer's heart skip a beat. "Looks like Agent Washington dropped the soap. How cute."
Wash swallows, shivering as he feels all sorts of wrong. How many times has a scene similar to this gone through his head? There's a reason other than nervousness that's been having Wash avoid Florida and Wyoming; he can't get them out of his head. They're always together, and anytime Wash sees them, their visors or eyes are pointed towards him, as if judging or considering him. For what, Washington doesn't know. Part of wants to know, while the other part is convinced that it's going to be horrible and would rather not. Just as Wash starts coming up with escape plans, a hand sudden rests on his head, making him going terrifyingly still.
"It is a bit endearing..." Wyoming adds, petting Wash's hair as the blond Freelancer stays crouched on the floor. "Look at him, Butch, he's scared witless. You frighten damn near everyone."
"Oh, I do not!" Florida insists, hand grasping Washington's chin almost gently, fingers firm and wet from the shower still going above them. "Look up for me, David. I want to see your face."
And Wash does, after a moment. Florida is darker than most of the other Freelancers, claiming to be Native American. He has dark, coiled black hair that goes far below his ass, and dark, dark brown eyes that send shivers down Washington's spine. Wyoming looks a bit more humble, with hazel brown eyes, sleek black hair, and that handlebar mustache that admittingly makes Wash laugh whenever he twirls it in thought. Wash blushes, realizing what he's doing. Goddamn his Dad for hiring so many attractive fucking people to be Freelancers, especially Wyoming and Florida. Seriously, how can special ops agents be THAT good looking?
"Are you scared?" It's said with such hardness and seriousness that it drops Wash out of his stupor, eyes going back up to Florida's.
"No," Washington is being one hundred percent honest right now. He's not afraid; he's had sex before and he's daydreamed about doing it with them enough times not be scared of them. "I'm not afraid."
"Good," Wyoming says, fingers scratching lightly at Wash's scalp as he moves back a step, admiring the bird's eye view. "Do you want to? You can say no, and we'll stop."
Wash is glad they asked, but he smiles as he replies this time. "No, I... I want this. I want to do this."
Florida nods his head, helping Wash to his feet, the blond slipping and falling against the shorter Freelancer, accidentally pinning him against the wall. "This is new," Florida practically purrs, eyebrows raising as he smirks at Wash, not even hiding it as he looks him over, up and down. "I have to say, I sort of like it, but maybe you'd prefer... this?" In no time flat, he spins them around, until he's pinning Wash against the shower wall. "Yeah, this is much better... Reggie, you know what to do. Say 'Red' if you want us to stop, David. Okay?"
"Y-Yeah... oh fuck." Wash bites his lip, Wyoming crouching in-between his legs to swallow him whole, unused to the feel of his cock surrounded like this. He thrusts without warning, whining in earnest at the strange yet pleasant feelings in the pit of his stomach and all around his cock. "Oh my Goooooood... holy fuck!"
"You like that, David?" Florida chuckles, smirking as he grabs Wash by the scruff of his neck, pulling his head in closer. "I think you'll like this, too." He kisses him in earnest, like he's worried that if he stops, he'll never get to kiss Washington again.
"You're getting him real worked up, Butch," Wyoming warns, taking a moment to stop and breathe, much to Wash's irritation. "You want either of us inside of you when you come, lad?"
"I-I-" Wash almost chokes on his own tongue, squirming as he misses the sensation of Wyoming's mouth around his cock. "I... I want mouth. Please." He adds the last part, hoping to please the older men.
"How polite." Florida mutters, starting to leave hickies down Wash's neck and upper chest as Wyoming deep-throats Wash, making the much younger Freelancer almost scream as he nears his climax. "Good manners should be encouraged, don't you agree, Reggie?"
Wyoming doesn't respond, not that he's really expected to as he finishes Wash off. Wash goes completely limp as he ride it out in Wyoming's mouth, cumming in waves as Florida holds him up, allowing him to lean his head against his chest. "That was... the best sex... I've ever had..." Wash mumbles, once he's coherent enough to speak.
"The best sex you've ever had? Did you hear that, Butch?" Wyoming asks, exasperated as he shares a look with Florida, who grins back at him. "The best sex he's ever had, and he didn't even have a cock up his arse!" He smirks up at Wash, licking a bit of cum off his lower lip. "Lad, we'll show you what the best sex you've ever had really is."
Washington gulps, but can't help but smile as Wyoming and Florida help him wash up and get dressed, talking him into crashing with Florida and Wyoming in their room for the night. In the morning, Wash has half a mind to brag about it, but then again...
Why would anyone else need to know but him?
A/N: A bit of underlined Carwash Siblings, hope ya don't mind. Please R&R!
~CabooseHeart.