[He's definitely caught off-guard by that: suddenly finding himself against the table, half on his back, a mostly-naked salarian pressed up against him. For a second, Thane stares up at Mordin, eyes slightly widened, grip having tightened in his skin. (It's a good thing that, unlike Garrus, he has no claws.)
And Garrus is drawing near, he's entirely too vulnerable, mixed feelings churning in his gut. Excitement, curiosity -- but there's strong tension there, instinct. Still holding onto Mordin's hip, Thane shifts slightly, bringing himself upward a little more. Garrus is nearby, his cock is edging between his thighs again; for whom is this truly moving too fast, now? But Thane is also glad to be rid of patience, his own prick hard and aching between his thighs, rubbing stiffly against Mordin's dampened undergarments. If he was a little closer again, perhaps he might even catch his scent ...
He urges up against Mordin's lean form, legs parting, hips pressing against Garrus' in turn; the movement rubs that flushed blue length along the crevice and against the pinkened slit of his cloaca, eliciting a shiver. Thane's hands fall against Mordin's waist then, dipping lewdly past the border of his remaining garment and pressing in, urging him further against him, in the hopes that he'll actually straddle him. Tempting though it might be, Thane keeps from drawing his hands in too far, half-hoping the respected doctor will whip the rest of it away with the same gusto he had the other things. There's a predatory hardness in his eyes as he grinds his hips against the fabric, letting his cock nudge up against the hole of Mordin's cloaca, further soaking the cloth with his own fluids as well.]
[ Mordin looses a soft, rough grunt, almost pained. But it isn't pained, oh no, and it's like water the way he rolls his hips forward and tighter against Thane, at the perfect angle to work him inside if not for the fabric stretched slickly between them, and Mordin's had enough patience, enough... he's had enough. His hands skid over Thane's strangely numerous digits hooked into his waistband and he shoves them off and kicks them away somewhere in a fell swoop. Wish granted, apparently.
He's tall enough, his whole body long and lean enough that to take Thane standing just like this would be a fairly simple task. It's instinct, maybe, that calls for him to clamber atop the solid form before him, splay his knees to either side, grind slow and fast and hard—but then instinct logically shouldn't account for the desire to take on two alien men at all, so maybe it's not worth rationalizing just now.
It's speculated among some salarian evolutionary biologists that the male orgasm itself is vestigial and somewhat redundant. Particularly in light of modern mating practices, the amount of seminal fluid produced during arousal alone should technically be more than sufficient for the purpose of fertilization. Over the course of his career, Mordin has been inclined to tentatively agree with this theory, though there's still less evidence to it than he'd like. But not anymore. Not now, when the first slide of textured drell cock nudges past the outside of his vent and it lights up his nerves like the perma-day Omega skyline, hand stuttering on Garrus's molten-hot prick behind Thane's shapely ass. The closer it comes to his hole the more fervently he realizes that it is so necessary to come, and without coming soon he's sure he's going to find a way to crawl out of his own skin.
Transfixed by the sight of violet-red nestling into orange-green, Mordin stares and swallows and then chokes on his own voice as a bump of Garrus's body against Thane sees him breached just slightly. Even this is tight, stinging sweetly, but if Mordin has any logical objections they get drowned out with the shaky, needy sound he makes as he tries his best to push him all the way inside. The anemone-like flare at the tip of Thane's cock sinks into him, moving, fits so strangely inside of him. Although it's already too much too fast he finds himself gasping out a little laugh tinged with hysteria, suddenly, helplessly frustrated that he's not riding Thane until he's stripped the bark off him. ]
[There is a small part of him that, no matter how many times Garrus forces it down, rises hot and jealous and possessive any time Thane and sex with someone else comes up. This time, though, it's surprisingly easy to push aside. Maybe it's because it's Mordin and he knows Solus isn't interested in Thane in any emotional way. Or maybe it's because he's the one taking Thane and Mordin can't.
Whatever it is, Garrus is satisfied and yet still wanting. Leaning forward, Garrus bites Thane's shoulder, hard, as he watches Thane's cock being lined up with Mordin's cloaca and then start to slide in, ever so slightly. He growls, losing some of his self-consciousness as he starts to push back into Thane. Thane's still warm from their previous activities, from Garrus' cock. His hand leaves his cock to go to Thane's hip and dig in tightly, talons breaking the scales ever so slightly. He can smell Thane's blood in the air, taste it on his tongue, all of it blending with the heightened scent of arousal filling the room, and it's got his blood heating up all over again.
And, since he has two partners here and two hands, he resumes toying with Mordin's horn, using a bit more talon than finger now, watching the way the colors shift on the salarian's body, especially as Garrus keeps pushing into Thane, and thus into Mordin.]
[There is so much stimulation at once, the shaft of him disappearing into the salarian's body, slick wet muscle closing around him. It's different than anything he'd experienced. Anything he's felt around him -- this is the first cloaca he's slipped into, and it's a thought that makes his toes curl, intrigue and pleasure intermingling. Thane struggles to keep his composure, watching the spread of colourful flesh as Mordin slides against his hips, draws him in.
The broken laugh cuts through, and Thane's gaze first lifts toward Mordin's face, at the haze in his expression. It's the most undone he's ever seen the doctor and it sends a prickle of excitement through his lower body. More base parts of himself that revel in how deeply he can pull another being apart. And then he lifts his head, glances back over his shoulder at his lover. A glimpse of him is all he's afforded before the very familiar sensation of Garrus' cock presses up against his backside, the taut hole made damp and soft from their union only moments ago.
Thane tips his head forward again, teeth grazing his own lip as Garrus works into his body, and the momentum has him arching up into Mordin's as well. A sharp breath, the shudder of a tensed spine, the way his eyes slide shut -- it's all on the surface, and his hands are quaking slightly as he grasps at Mordin's form. There is so much assaulting his senses at once that he can scarcely breathe, and on the second exhale a breathy noise he hadn't intended falls just as easily from his throat. So much of it beckons him to lose control, to rock his hips forward and drown, feel himself speared at the same time, filled to the point of bursting. Not yet, he has to remind himself. It's the anticipation that he knows that free reign will come soon -- that's what leaves him struggling for a mental foothold.]
[ Inconsiderable though it may be compared to Thane's dense musculature, Mordin's total weight sinks into the solid support of both men before him; braced against Garrus, Thane will be either a bulwark or a domino as a sinewy leg stretches past them both, hooking at the sole on one of Garrus's spurs. The degree to which Mordin feels full of Thane continues to take him by surprise, but call him nothing if not a fast learner. He squirms down hard, impaled further with a filthy sort of determination, and even Garrus's hot clawed fingers are cool relief against his horn when his forehead falls against Thane's shoulder and it ends up pointing at him accusingly. There's something of a blind grope for Thane's hip to lock him in deeper, wanting, and then he finds Thane's skin is serpentine-smooth and ever-so-slightly numbing at his neck where he's—completely by virtue of instinct, mind you—dragged his tongue over just shy of the beginning of his frills. ]
Probably inadvisable. Will alert in the event of [ nngh— ] hallucination. Onset. Onset of hallucin—ah...
[ A ragged breath, a roll of hips that pulls Thane's cock partly out only to push back in, to punctuate. His toes flex restlessly over Garrus's spur. ]
Recommend more [ comfortable ] practical position.
[ Beware, gentlemen; seems the good doctor is in real danger of swooning. Not from the venom, either. ]
[He can hear that Thane's already seriously into this, feel the shudder of his lover's body, and Garrus can't help but feel a bit smug. Of course Thane's getting shaky. He's between the both of them, wrapped up in this quite literally. And then Mordin's stumbling talk, the way he's responding as well... Oh, it's satisfying, all right. As is the thought of Dr. Mordin Solus getting high off of Thane. Though none of that is quite as good as the way it feels to push himself into his lover and his lover into the doctor. Thane is so warm thanks to him, slick and easy to push into, and Mordin's heated as well, both of them feeding into the drell.
Garrus groans as Mordin's foot drops down to rest against his spur. His leg twitches to try to help with the hooking there, to rub against it as shamelessly as he's pulling out and sliding back into Thane. The doctor's comment gets another groan, but that's more of protest even as he tries to be patient. Garrus had just gotten back inside Thane and Mordin wants to shift? There was no desire whatsoever in the turian to pull out again, but the salarian was their guest.
He takes a moment to catch his breath, to remember how to talk before attempting it.]
You got something in mind?
[Of course Mordin does. Probably fifty things in mind, all going to spill out at the same time and leave Garrus' foggy brain in the dust. At least Garrus can mess with the Doctor's mind right back and trail his talons not-so-lightly down the back of the salarian's head while he laps at the newest mark he's left on Thane.]
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branchandroot
no subject
Date: 2014-06-14 08:44 am (UTC)And Garrus is drawing near, he's entirely too vulnerable, mixed feelings churning in his gut. Excitement, curiosity -- but there's strong tension there, instinct. Still holding onto Mordin's hip, Thane shifts slightly, bringing himself upward a little more. Garrus is nearby, his cock is edging between his thighs again; for whom is this truly moving too fast, now? But Thane is also glad to be rid of patience, his own prick hard and aching between his thighs, rubbing stiffly against Mordin's dampened undergarments. If he was a little closer again, perhaps he might even catch his scent ...
He urges up against Mordin's lean form, legs parting, hips pressing against Garrus' in turn; the movement rubs that flushed blue length along the crevice and against the pinkened slit of his cloaca, eliciting a shiver. Thane's hands fall against Mordin's waist then, dipping lewdly past the border of his remaining garment and pressing in, urging him further against him, in the hopes that he'll actually straddle him. Tempting though it might be, Thane keeps from drawing his hands in too far, half-hoping the respected doctor will whip the rest of it away with the same gusto he had the other things. There's a predatory hardness in his eyes as he grinds his hips against the fabric, letting his cock nudge up against the hole of Mordin's cloaca, further soaking the cloth with his own fluids as well.]
As you will it.
no subject
Date: 2014-06-15 05:23 am (UTC)He's tall enough, his whole body long and lean enough that to take Thane standing just like this would be a fairly simple task. It's instinct, maybe, that calls for him to clamber atop the solid form before him, splay his knees to either side, grind slow and fast and hard—but then instinct logically shouldn't account for the desire to take on two alien men at all, so maybe it's not worth rationalizing just now.
It's speculated among some salarian evolutionary biologists that the male orgasm itself is vestigial and somewhat redundant. Particularly in light of modern mating practices, the amount of seminal fluid produced during arousal alone should technically be more than sufficient for the purpose of fertilization. Over the course of his career, Mordin has been inclined to tentatively agree with this theory, though there's still less evidence to it than he'd like. But not anymore. Not now, when the first slide of textured drell cock nudges past the outside of his vent and it lights up his nerves like the perma-day Omega skyline, hand stuttering on Garrus's molten-hot prick behind Thane's shapely ass. The closer it comes to his hole the more fervently he realizes that it is so necessary to come, and without coming soon he's sure he's going to find a way to crawl out of his own skin.
Transfixed by the sight of violet-red nestling into orange-green, Mordin stares and swallows and then chokes on his own voice as a bump of Garrus's body against Thane sees him breached just slightly. Even this is tight, stinging sweetly, but if Mordin has any logical objections they get drowned out with the shaky, needy sound he makes as he tries his best to push him all the way inside. The anemone-like flare at the tip of Thane's cock sinks into him, moving, fits so strangely inside of him. Although it's already too much too fast he finds himself gasping out a little laugh tinged with hysteria, suddenly, helplessly frustrated that he's not riding Thane until he's stripped the bark off him. ]
no subject
Date: 2014-06-16 04:08 am (UTC)Whatever it is, Garrus is satisfied and yet still wanting. Leaning forward, Garrus bites Thane's shoulder, hard, as he watches Thane's cock being lined up with Mordin's cloaca and then start to slide in, ever so slightly. He growls, losing some of his self-consciousness as he starts to push back into Thane. Thane's still warm from their previous activities, from Garrus' cock. His hand leaves his cock to go to Thane's hip and dig in tightly, talons breaking the scales ever so slightly. He can smell Thane's blood in the air, taste it on his tongue, all of it blending with the heightened scent of arousal filling the room, and it's got his blood heating up all over again.
And, since he has two partners here and two hands, he resumes toying with Mordin's horn, using a bit more talon than finger now, watching the way the colors shift on the salarian's body, especially as Garrus keeps pushing into Thane, and thus into Mordin.]
no subject
Date: 2014-07-19 12:42 am (UTC)The broken laugh cuts through, and Thane's gaze first lifts toward Mordin's face, at the haze in his expression. It's the most undone he's ever seen the doctor and it sends a prickle of excitement through his lower body. More base parts of himself that revel in how deeply he can pull another being apart. And then he lifts his head, glances back over his shoulder at his lover. A glimpse of him is all he's afforded before the very familiar sensation of Garrus' cock presses up against his backside, the taut hole made damp and soft from their union only moments ago.
Thane tips his head forward again, teeth grazing his own lip as Garrus works into his body, and the momentum has him arching up into Mordin's as well. A sharp breath, the shudder of a tensed spine, the way his eyes slide shut -- it's all on the surface, and his hands are quaking slightly as he grasps at Mordin's form. There is so much assaulting his senses at once that he can scarcely breathe, and on the second exhale a breathy noise he hadn't intended falls just as easily from his throat. So much of it beckons him to lose control, to rock his hips forward and drown, feel himself speared at the same time, filled to the point of bursting. Not yet, he has to remind himself. It's the anticipation that he knows that free reign will come soon -- that's what leaves him struggling for a mental foothold.]
no subject
Date: 2014-09-08 05:33 am (UTC)Probably inadvisable. Will alert in the event of [ nngh— ] hallucination. Onset. Onset of hallucin—ah...
[ A ragged breath, a roll of hips that pulls Thane's cock partly out only to push back in, to punctuate. His toes flex restlessly over Garrus's spur. ]
Recommend more [ comfortable ] practical position.
[ Beware, gentlemen; seems the good doctor is in real danger of swooning. Not from the venom, either. ]
no subject
Date: 2014-09-10 01:32 am (UTC)Garrus groans as Mordin's foot drops down to rest against his spur. His leg twitches to try to help with the hooking there, to rub against it as shamelessly as he's pulling out and sliding back into Thane. The doctor's comment gets another groan, but that's more of protest even as he tries to be patient. Garrus had just gotten back inside Thane and Mordin wants to shift? There was no desire whatsoever in the turian to pull out again, but the salarian was their guest.
He takes a moment to catch his breath, to remember how to talk before attempting it.]
You got something in mind?
[Of course Mordin does. Probably fifty things in mind, all going to spill out at the same time and leave Garrus' foggy brain in the dust. At least Garrus can mess with the Doctor's mind right back and trail his talons not-so-lightly down the back of the salarian's head while he laps at the newest mark he's left on Thane.]