Archive of Our Own ^beta

Kayla has never been a particularly jealous person. Especially when it comes to lovers. Those are people who come and go. She’d spend the night, and be off to another country the next day. If anything, they should be jealous of her. She’s the one with the fast-paced job that takes her all around the world, sampling a new person every other journey. Or, she was. Until her plane crashed into Biosyn forest.

After that, she was sucked into the web of the doe-eyed ginger and her accomplice. She’s always been a goner for redheads. And fiery, opinionated women. 

She still flies, but it’s different. She always touches home after the route is over. It’s good. Best of both worlds.

But sometimes she can’t help the lingering pit of dread that bubbles in her gut when she thinks about how much longer they’ve known each other, and how much longer they spend together when she’s gone. Sometimes she can’t help wondering where her place truly is between the three of them. If she's a passing fancy or placeholder for something else. 

A head settles on her shoulders while arms wrap around her abdomen. “What’s with the face?” asks Claire. 

“Nothing.” They both seemed so happy to see her. It’s probably all just in her head. 

“You’re frowning. Seems like something to me.”

“You’re seeing things, Red. I’m fine.” 

Claire chuckles, kissing the bare skin of her shoulder. Oh, the benefits to wearing a tank top around the cabin. “If you were fine, you wouldn’t have to convince me. I’d know.” 

“It’s nothing you need to worry your pretty little head over. Really. I’ll live.” Claire’s fingers creep at the hem of her shirt. 

“I’d hope so. We haven’t even gotten started with your ‘welcome home’ celebration.” Her skin buzzes under the deft fingers brushing against her stomach. Toeing the line between crawling up her shirt, or crawling into her boxers. Not that she’d mind either. 

“Oh? Tell me more,” she teases in a soft murmur. 

“We’ve been dying to have you back. It just isn’t the same when you’re out.” The thought warms her chest. The hands at her stomach slowly start creeping up. Tantalizingly slow, taking their time to brush over each inch of skin. They trace the lines of her abs and the curve of her waist. “I just start looking for you, and you’re not there.” She feels the curve of a pout press against her skin. 

“Poor baby,” she lightly mocks. She jolts as two fingers twist at her nipple. “Do it again and I’ll moan,” she jokes. 

“We’re getting there.” Her voice is a low rasp. The pad of her thumb lightly circles the nipple. An apology, of sorts. “Zia’s already upstairs. Probably wondering what’s taking so long.”

“And how long are you planning to leave the woman waiting?”

True to her word, Zia sits perched at the head of the bed in a faded band t-shirt that Kayla thinks might actually be hers. Sometime along the way, their closets started to mix more and more. She started borrowing Zia’s cargo pants, and Zia started stealing her jackets. And Claire… Well, Claire is worse than the both of them combined. More days than not, she’s stolen one of their faded shirts to sleep in. If she’s not wearing a flannel a size too big that just barely covers her bare ass, like today. 

And what a nice ass it is. 

Claire pushes her onto the foot of the bed with a small, mischievous smile. Behind her, the bed dips as Zia crawls closer. “Your hours are ridiculous,” she complains. Any bite is softened by a kiss to her neck. 

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” she says. “Gotta keep you two on your toes.” Zia nudges them back, giving Claire enough room to crawl onto the foot of the bed with them. 

“You know our girl is not a patient person, right?” says Zia. Claire rolls her eyes with a slight huff. She’s cute when she does that. Makes her want to nip at her neck and tease the living hell out of her. Any other night, she’d probably throw her down and do just that while Zia joined her. But tonight, those two seem to have other plans. 

Those plans start with Claire gently peeling up her tank top with her face hovering above the exposed skin. Zia finishes the job for her, hooking her fingers under the hem and pulling it off her. She tosses it to the side, somewhere out of sight on the floor. The warmth of her shirt is swiftly replaced with the warmth of hands cupping her breasts. Zia shifts beside her, settling more comfortably behind her. Meanwhile, Claire’s lips meet her skin in open-mouthed kisses. Kayla gives a content hum. Skilled hands knead at her breasts while an eager mouth runs across her abdomen. Her steady breaths slowly turn into lusty gasps, and she feels Claire’s smirk as she kisses up her body. One of her hands comes up to hold her hip as she reverses course and starts her descent. Her chin brushes the waistband of her boxes, and her hips push up on instinct. Claire looks up, meeting her eyes. “Easy, there,” she teases. 

“I know you aren’t talking to me about impatience,” replies Kayla. 

“If you’re going to be mean…” Claire makes a show of lifting herself up, onto her elbows. 

“Asshole.” Zia chuckles, circling her nipples with her thumbs. “Both of you. You’re a pair of assholes.” 

Claire tilts her head in mock-thoughtfulness. “Y’know what? I might just go downstairs and make myself some coffee instead…” 

“Brat,” Kayla hisses through a groan. 

Claire’s laugh is low and rumbling. She kisses the apex of her cervix, just above where she should really be. Like reading her mind, her fingers hook around the rim, dragging them down her thighs. Kayla meets her halfway, lifting her legs to help. Like her shirt, the boxers are carelessly tossed to the side. 

Claire’s descent is slow. She takes her time nipping her way closer, savoring the body she already knows by heart. Zia is no better as she flicks and twists at her eager nipples, leaving soft kisses on her neck every now and then. 

The tip of Claire’s nose brushes the edge of her cunt, and suddenly her body is electric . The blood pulsing through her veins is charged, flowing through her like a rainstorm. More , something carnal in her begs. More, more, more. 

She won’t say it, though. That’ll just draw it out longer. She can’t give either of them the satisfaction. 

Claire nudges her legs apart with her hands as her warm breath ghosts over her cunt. Claire brushes two fingers across the very edge of wanting skin, and goosebumps erupt across her arms and legs. 

She starts with her tongue. The tip teases its way inside, and then she’s licking her way up in a long, slow stroke. A guttural moan rumbles from her chest. Her body falls back, leaning harder into Zia’s body. Her breasts push at Kayla’s back in a whole other form of teasing. 

The rhythm starts like that; Slow and long. She takes her time, like they have all the time in the world. She savors the taste of her, lapping it up like a starving woman. 

Then, she’s moving faster and harder. Kayla’s hips jerk towards her, begging by their own volition. Claire meets these demands again and again. Her body is practically on fire under their touches. She can feel that carnal release building in the pit of her abdomen, itching to be reached. 

The tips of Claire’s fingers tease at her entrance, and before she knows it, they’re pushing inside of her. They curl in tandem with the licks of her tongue, brushing again and again against the sensitive walls. 

“Fuck,” she groans. She mumbles it again and again, each prompted by another stroke. “God fucking damn.” 

She can’t think. She can’t comprehend anything that isn’t the hands on her breasts, the mouth on her cunt, or the fingers in her pussy. 

It rolls through her like a hurricane. There’s the storm, rushing over her body like a tidal wave of electricity, and then there’s the calm eye of the storm that makes her feel like her body has started floating into space. She can’t comprehend much beyond that fuzzy sensation for a long, long time. 

When she comes to, they’re laid against the pillows at the headboard. They lay on either side of her with their arms resting over her. “Jesus…” 

“We missed you,” says Zia, barely above a whisper as her hand traces lines against her stomach. 

“I can tell,” she jokes. And she can. She can feel it wafting off of them both, especially here and now. When all is said and done, and they're here, clinging to her with way too much pride. “Maybe I should leave more often…” 

“Don’t you dare,” mumbles Claire.