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[Johanna's surprise, meanwhile, gives way quickly to irritation. It's not as sharp as usual, cooled by the mix of emotion that she's getting from Kate--too complicated and piecemeal to untangle, especially during the moment that she's in. But it's enough to imply: if Kate doesn't like it, get lost.

Her attention then shifts quickly to Erik, and no matter what she communicates to him, Kate will get the rest, the urge to laugh at him, a general men, a more specific you-are-such-an-idiot, shaded sharp but laced with a complicated fondness. She's not going to lie to him; she's going to laugh. For the record: what she thinks when she's fucking Kate is probably less exasperated.

But Kate doesn't know that. What Kate gets instead is Johanna's determination. Fuck you, Kate Bishop, and not even in the fun way. She's going to enjoy this no matter what.]

[ Kate's mind doesn't get any less tangled but the strands jump into focus, like pulling open a panel to find wiring in bright primary colors, easily distinguishable.

The brush-off, the fact that it's Erik, the spite that comes through: they're met with irritation, a surge of it coiled closely up with jealousy. That's sudden and sour and guilty and because she definitely doesn't know; this is kind of exactly how she imagines Johanna thinks about her, too. It stings and she hates it, hates that she feels it, hates even more that Johanna might be able to feel it now, too, and she can't shove it away fast enough. She hates it even more than she hates when Johanna moves her hips like that and she feels every last millimeter of cock like it's her stretched around him and that her first thought is god I almost forgot how good that feels.

Disgust chases it more than embarrassment, and then something a lot like Johanna's own determination. Fuck you, Johanna Mason. Maybe in the fun way. Kate doesn't know how to go away so if she's so set on enjoying herself it can either be because of Kate or despite her, her choice. ]

[It does feel good, and she is determined. And she can feel those smaller touches, too, all mingled, a sour cocktail that touches at some irritation deep in Johanna, too. She will not be put off by this. If Kate wants to make herself jealous, getting fucked, fine. Fine, Johanna thinks, pointedly, just as Erik thrusts back into her, and she lifts her hips to meet him, knees dropped open, wide and willing and determined.

But even as she's focused a little elsewhere so, it would seem, is Erik. Selfish in the angle that he takes and internally, Johanna resolves to put up with it, because it still feels good, she still likes it, thick, insistent, hot--

And irritating. Maybe some of that is Kate's irritation. Maybe it's her own, an who can say if it's been exacerbated or not by the echo of Kate's, but Johanna lifts her hips, pointedly, against that next thrust, reclaiming the angle. Pricks his neck with his fingernails. Hey.

So there. See? Good. Still enjoying?]

[ Eh. That's a lie, Kate is enjoying it, enough that for that moment, from hips lifted to irritation, there's nothing else in her head in Johanna's head but phantom secondhand pleasure, reveling in the sensation enough to make the answer obvious if Johanna's ever wondered whether Kate's had men of her own since they started.

But that irritation jerks her back out of her distraction, hers and Johanna's and theirs, and sure, it's good, but. I would do this better. The thought comes through clear, not just the impression of presence, her feelings bleeding in, but almost like Kate whispering in her ear. You know I would. Just how you like it and none of this selfish bullshit. Can you feel what I feel right now, too?

She doesn't wait for an answer, but pinches a nipple hard, tight pressure and then a gentle stroke and a graze of her nail, rough with just that little hint of sweet. It's not not what Kate likes, but it's a lot more like what she does. ]

[Her satisfaction gained by her own assertiveness is amplified by Kate's, by the satisfaction of knowing that she enjoys it, that she hasn't had anyone else. Talk about selfishness and jealousy. Johanna wouldn't actually care if Kate was screwing around behind her back, but she likes being the best and the only all the same.

Satisfaction is short-lived. No matter what Erik does next, Johanna has Kate's voice licked against her ear, as present as if she's right there, sitting at the library table and watching. And then, not just watching. Participation, and it counts for a lot. The moan Johanna makes is for Kate, not for Erik--whatever he's doing; mindless in this second, Johanna could care less. What she cares about is that tender pinch of Kate's fingers, gentle in the moment next. When she arches, it's because of Kate.

She likes it. And she's angry. She snaps her teeth down on her moan and breathes out, frustrated. Fingernails dig in to Erik's neck. Shut up, Kate. Enjoy this. Don't fuck it up. And there better be something to enjoy now, and she uses that arch to lift her hips again, a distraction from the tingle of feeling at her breast.]

[ Kate is definitely enjoying it, but she is not about to shut up, not now when she's seen-- felt-- exactly how much effect she can have. She likes it, and she's angry, too. It's easier to be angry than jealous, easier to reconcile it with the stories they've told about what this is between them, easier to keep from getting bogged down in adolescent navel-gazing bullshit like why am I never enough for anyone.

Maybe she never gets to be the only but she can be damn sure she's the best.

Why would I stop now? Kate asks, rhetorical punctuated with similar treatment of her other nipple, this time going sharp again after the softer swipe before she lets go. She rakes nails down her ribs to hips, presses thumbs in beneath the bone. We both know it's better with me. You can be there with him if you want but it's me you're going to think about when you come. Just for a second she turns even more smug, til Johanna can probably picture the way her smirk would curl, the dark angle of her brows. In case you didn't already. ]

[She can picture Kate's face exactly, a smirk that she's often seen. Sometimes she hates it; sometimes it makes her want to push Kate down on the floor, straddle her, forcibly wipe that smirk off her face. Sometimes the two reactions are tangled into one.

Right now, it's more than tangled. Frustration and irritation and arousal and God, it's so good. The rake of Kate's fingernails, the press of her thumbs--it coincides with Erik's thrust back into her, with the pressure of his thumb, on her clit. Like three hands on her, even as she's getting fucked, and the trail of tingling sensation. Johanna's moan is louder this time, vocal. Like she gets with Kate, sometimes.

When she grips at Erik's forearm, pulls herself against him--more, like she always demands--she's gripping at Kate, too, in her head, however this is happening. Angry but pleased, still demanding. Dug in, or more like dug into, and she's not leaving but she's not pushing Kate away, either, or denying what she's saying. The broad press of Erik's thumb; the light touch of Kate's fingers.]

[ Erik's stutter-stop, that moment of disengagement, is timed so well with Kate's own hands. When he presses a thumb at her clit (Johanna's, Johanna's, it is not really that hard to remember but it is getting just that little bit harder) Kate moans with her, the thrum of it in her throat and chest, the sudden overlay of pleasure mingling, so identical it's hard to say what is one of them and what is the other.

Kate has stopped talking, half out of distraction, half because if she is going to claim to be the best, the one who knows better what Johanna wants, she knows to shut up for a while before she's pressed her luck and gets told again. But she's not about to let Johanna forget she's there just because she's not speaking. It almost comes naturally, the assertion of her presence into Johanna's mind, almost like she's leaning against her, head on her shoulder, breathing in her ear. That's how Kate's imagining it, focused enough to sort of project it.

It helps that that's not all. Her hands slide down thighs, hook in and then up. One returns to her breast but the other remains, and she spreads two fingers in a vee and strokes around where Erik would be, if this were real for her, touch featherlight where she would be-- where Johanna is-- pulled taut around the thick of him. But there's nothing there for her, not really, however much she feels it, and Kate wonders--.

She's never been good at resisting curiosity. One finger dips in, and Johanna will feel it not just between her legs but on her own fingers, wet collecting on the tips where they're still clutched dry at Erik's forearm, then slick and hot to the first knuckle as Kate pushes two in, once and then again and curls them up toward her belly until she makes her own breath catch in a groan. ]

[The pitch of her moan goes high and breathless at the stroke of Kate's fingers--climbs higher still at that push, stretched taut and now tauter, taking all of it. Soon she's forgotten to moan; she's nearly forgotten to breathe. Mouth dropped open, hips pushed up--it doesn't hurt, it feels good, impossibly good--filled, nearly completely. Doubly fucked but at the same time there's the wet slick sensation of fucking Kate, a feeling that Johanna knows well--as if she's the one with two fingers buried in Kate, fucking her even as she's being fucked, as if Kate is right there beside her, now more than ever.

It's an idea she likes. If she could fuck both of them at once, or be fucked by both--or both be fucked--whatever the order, or the arrangement, if it's anything like this, it'll be better than anything else.

If these are her fingers in Kate, then she's going to fuck her. And that makes the fingers in her push deeper, harder, right there with Erik's thrusts.Johanna's head lolls to the side, as if to seek to kiss Kate, find her with her mouth. Or Erik. Kiss Erik. She doesn't care. In the moment, there's very little that she cares about.]

[ For a moment there, Kate is right with her. It should be weird, the steady thrust and push of Erik's cock and the nimble scissor and stroke of her own fingers at the same time, in space that doesn't feel like it should exist. Johanna wants deeper and she pushes deeper, moves in time with his hips but doing things he can't. It should be weird, but it's too good to care about weird and when Johanna thinks about kissing her Kate wants that so badly it makes her groan.

And then it makes her mad. Because Johanna doesn't care which of them it is she gets her mouth on, she is enjoying this most because it's both. Better than anything else means better than her alone, and that wasn't what Kate was aiming for here. She's not pitching a threesome, she's trying to win. And this, as insanely good as it feels, is not winning.

She draws her fingers out and sucks them clean, tongue curling around Johanna's knuckles, lips lingering around the ends, nothing subtle at all about the suggestion. But she's no contortionist and there are limits, which means it's time to try cheating.

She's been practicing manifesting all sorts of things, testing the bounds of her new ablities, and if some of those things happened to not be entirely practical... well, whatever. Sue her. For a moment Johanna will feel Kate's concentration slipping, not distraction but deliberate focus on something other than the sensations transmitted between them. And then a weird buzzing on the palm of her hand, and Kate back in force like a triumphant smirk. Surprise. (She strokes it across a nipple first before teasing it between her legs, not really enough but a demonstration of potential, a blatant grab for attention.) ]

Edited 2015-07-30 16:46 (UTC)

[Her reaction--amplified by how close she is, by Erik's tellingly harder rougher thrusts, by the wash of feeling that she gets back from Kate, her own but different--and now this, buzz and pressure, and Johanna reacts so loudly it's almost obscene. A loud moan like no other, high and full of need--a clench, deep in her, yes, it's on her lips. The ghost of the feeling trembles somewhere in her, on her breast and then down, and God, she moans again, as everything in her leaps and clenches.

This is the best thing yet. For Erik, it might not actually be ruined--the tight clench could feel good, but it could feel wringing--and certainly the way that she's gripping at his arm won't feel good. She needs something to steady herself as she pushes her hips up, seeking more. It fucks her harder against Erik, and that's good, but that's not what she's looking for.

Single-minded now, her focus on that feeling, on the dual push between her legs, thumb and finger and the heat and buzz of this new pressure. It's impossible to think of anything but that now, and Kate with that. And she's angry, angry that Kate is doing this to her, distracting her in a way that feels almost like manipulation. Get out, but at the same time she can't deny the way that this feels. Nor can she deny that she wants to get revenge for this. Or that she wants, desperately, to finish, and not under Erik, not right now.]

[ Kate is looking forward to her revenge, that much comes through clearly. That's usually fun all on its own and this new power opens up even more possibilities. Her head is full of them, a shuddery thrill at all the ways Johanna could fuck her if she'd just come over already. That comes through too, come over come over be here, like a less articulate litany woven through everything else.

But Johanna is thinking about her, wanting her, and that's enough at least for the moment. She pushes the vibe back between their legs, traces aimless circles, the mindless desperation beginning to catch up with her, too.

Erik's thumb on their clit is good, but she drags the toy around and across it, waits to feel Johanna clench and moan and presses it where they need it most, holds it steady as her fingers numb, until she is teetering on the edge of orgasm, just waiting for Johanna to push her over, to come with her, and still that undercurrent of want in both their heads, the certainty that however good this is it won't be enough until she's here, for real. ]

[She's so close, she can feel how close she is--and Kate, too, in the same moment, both of them on that edge, together. Breathless, panting, chasing every second of that feeling with the way she pushes her hips up, seeking more--the sensation of the press of Erik's thumb, numbing maddening vibration that makes it better, worse, better--

Vision blurred, it takes her a moment to realize that Kate isn't here, come over be here; the words echo in her head and she wants it, she wants Kate, every bit of her wants Kate, even though the weight of each of Erik's thrusts push her closer, it won't be as fast as with Kate--arched against the buzz of the vibrator, toes curled, fuck, and dimly she's aware that Erik is close, that each sharp hard push signals how close, but she can't wait, and this time when she clenches down it's almost cruel. Stop. Stop, and she shows her teeth, she pushes at him, but the feeling goes on, the pressure against her and a moan spills out from between her teeth, needy, wanting--]

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