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turnonmyheelsTitle: Here Comes Another Fall from Grace (I'm Always Falling On My Face)
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Damon/Alaric/Mason, Damon/Alaric, Damon/Mason, Mason/Alaric
Summary: Post Ghost World -- All the ghosts are gone, or are they?
Notes: Thank you![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
moosesal for the beta. Title from Placebo's Breathe Underwater.
My oh my, how my blood boils,
Its sweet taste for you,
Strips me down bare
And gets me into my favourite mood.
I keep on trying, fighting these feelings away,
But the more I do,
The crazier I turn into.
Pacing floors and opening doors,
Hoping you'll walk through
And save me boy,
Because I'm too crazy for you.
Crazy for you
Adele, Crazy For You
Mason held up the clothes Ric brought him and inspected them. They looked like they would fit. “I really wish I could take a long, hot shower before I put on these nice, clean clothes.” He sounded wistful and more than a little sad.
“Wish in one hand--” Damon started with a smirk.
“Damon,” Ric interrupted before Damon attempted to pursue further flirtation by way of extraordinarily lame banter. “Why don’t you get him something for a sponge bath?”
“Kinky, Ric.” Damon shot Ric a look he refused to read then disappeared without further comment.
Ric nodded at Mason’s ghost and unloaded his research materials from his book bag. He spread the glyph photos across the desk then poured himself three fingers of Damon’s favorite bourbon and knocked half of it back in one swallow. He added some ice to the glass and promised himself from here on out he would take it easy. He settled down at the desk and sorted through the photos putting them in order. Damon returned shortly with a bowl, a pitcher filled with steaming water, and washcloths. The bowl and pitcher looked like something Damon had probably used himself when he was alive. Ric kept his focus on the glyphs and managed to refrain from asking.
He ignored Damon and Mason when Damon offered to give Mason a sponge bath. He sipped his drink instead of saying anything and tried turning one of the glyphs he hadn’t managed to work out upside down. It didn’t help. He turned the glyph upright and sighed. This was almost impossible. He pulled out his laptop and switched it on. It wasn’t like he could take a picture of the glyph and plug it into Google Goggles and ask for a translation, but the laptop was something extra he could focus on instead of what was going on across the room.
He continued ignoring them when Mason more or less begged Damon to wash his back. He knew they -- especially Damon -- were trying to get a reaction out of him. Ric had made a solemn promise to himself to never play games with Damon ever again. It appeared that vow needed some crucial editing. Ric sipped his drink, and swore on the dead bodies of the women he had loved that he would never play games with any sort of supernatural being ever again. He knew what would happen if he did. It was what always happened.
Whenever he slipped and fell into the drinking and the bantering and the body language and the verbal sparring with Damon (the less said about when Katherine was trapped in his house and he wasn’t staying with Jenna the better), Ric always woke up the next morning with a raging hangover, hand and finger-shaped bruises all over his body, and the feeling that he’d died (Again. He hadn’t had the eternity ring when Katherine was in his house -- he doesn’t like thinking about that time.) Considering the various fang imprints on major arteries and the strangulation marks around his throat he’d had to hide on each and every one of the aforementioned occasions, all evidence pointed to Ric not knowing his own boundaries and how to use a safe word as well as Damon not caring about his boundaries and safe word so long as he wore his eternity ring and would wake up alive in the morning.
Which is why Ric still hadn’t forgiven Damon for the last time he killed him (that Ric could remember). Neck snapping -- while infinitely quicker than exsanguination or strangulation/suffocation -- hurt even after one was no longer dead.
“Ow!” Mason yelped.
Ric resolutely did not look up and witness Damon engaged in a game of snapping a wet washcloth on the bare ass of a werewolf ghost he had literally ripped the heart out of. He drained his bourbon and then refilled it. With absolutely zero shame he typed ‘viking hieroglyphics’ into Google, Bing, and Yahoo.
Snap, pop, “Ow! Give me that.” Ric hit search.
Pop, snap, “Oh, the wittle werewolf wants some payback.” Damon sounded gleeful. “Come and get it Derek.”
“Derek?”
“Yeah, Derek Hale, Teen Wolf Mtv?” Ric clicked on ‘Heiroglyphics - University of Houston’.
“You watch the shit-shows on Mtv?”
“Believe me Mason, if you were gonna be any werewolf ever, you’d be Derek Hale.”
“I’ll show you Derek Hale.” Pop, snap. Growl. Crash. The distinct sound of breaking glass.
Ric was a grown-up. An adult. An authority figure. He was a goddamned upstanding citizen of Mystic Falls and the Gilbert representative on the Founder’s Council. He would not add referee to supernatural hijinks in the boardinghouse study to his resume. He would not.
Crash. A chair hit the floor. Thud -- a body fell on top of it -- crack! It sounded like wood splitting. Alaric clicked ‘A greeting from Big Ole, the Viking - National Little-Known …’ in the Yahoo browser. “Ow! Damn it!” A growl. A thud. Another crash. “No! Not the Chippendale gateleg table you cretin.” Growling, the dull sound of a fist hitting flesh, a hiss, another thud, then the crash of bodies rolling into yet another piece of furniture. “I told you not the gateleg table you filthy beast!”
“That is it!” Ric slammed his laptop closed and stood. “I have had it -- the two of you had better settle down or I’ll--”
Damon was suddenly in his face, the long line of his body pressed against Ric. Damon was smirking and leering and, “Or what? You’ll turn us over your knee and spank us until we’re good?”
“Oh, I know! You’ll tie us to the torture chair?” Mason chimed in from behind Ric, close enough that he could feel the heat of his breath on his neck. The two-pronged attack only strengthened Ric’s resolve to resist.
Damon deliberately shifted his hips so that Ric could feel just how horny he was. “What are you gonna do, teacher?” He rolled his hips and despite himself Ric’s body was responding. “Give us detention?” Ric focused on the wall across the room. He would not give in. He was a rock and the commander of his own destiny. He could not be led into temptation, again. Damon’s hands settled on Ric’s hips -- not gripping, just touching. Damon brought his face to the junction of Ric’s jaw and throat and … breathed. “Hmm? Tell me.”
Ric closed his eyes and counted to 10. It didn’t work. He picked up his glass and drained it. “I’ll drink all your bourbon and let you figure this out on your own.” He carefully put the crystal tumbler down on the desk. He packed the laptop into its travel case and replaced all of his source materials into his bookbag. He picked up both bags, slung their respective straps across his shoulders and started to leave.
“Come on, Ric, don’t be like that.” Damon grabbed his laptop bag and pulled Ric toward him.
“Yeah, Ric. Give us a break,” Mason added, hooking a finger into one of Ric’s belt loops. “It’s hard being an uncorporealized being forced to watch the world go on around you and be unable to do anything about it.”
Damon relieved Ric of both bags and pressed the re-filled tumbler of bourbon into his hand. “I was lost in the caverns all night, my brother’s locked in a cell, and it’s been a really, really bad week. There’s no harm in unwinding a little.”
“Damon, there is no such as a little anything when it comes to you.” Against all better judgment and the voices in his head screaming that he had just renewed his vow to never do this again, Ric sipped the whiskey.
“That’s what she said,” Mason deadpanned. Ric did not laugh. Mason closed what little distance there was between them. His hands rested on top of Damon’s and then he pulled Ric flush against him. Mason’s erection settled naturally between Ric’s cheeks. Ric drained the glass. Damon helpfully took it from him before he could drop it. Damon closed in on him until he was captured between their bodies. Ric closed his eyes and started counting. One. There was no denying that he was hard or that he was physically attracted to both of them. Who wouldn’t be? They were gorgeous -- all sharp angles, contrasting dark against light, with piercing eyes.
Fifteen. His heart was racing in his chest, loudly enough he could hear it in his own ears. It was impossible that neither the vampire or werewolf wouldn’t notice. He’d forgotten the werewolf was a ghost; maybe he wouldn’t hear. How did that even work? Ric attempted to will his pulse to slow, his cock to soften.
Twenty-nine. Mason pressed his teeth against the tender skin at the nape of Ric’s neck. Goose bumps sprung up all over his body and his hair stood on edge. The teeth sank a little deeper, stopping just short of hurting. Then the teeth disappeared only to be replaced by sinfully soft lips and a wickedly clever tongue. Ric shivered.
Forty-two-- the meaning of life. Damon’s hand slipped between their bodies and cupped Ric’s cock. He gave it a gentle squeeze while he started undoing the buttons on Ric’s shirt with his other hand. Fifty. A tiny bead of sweat formed at Ric’s temple, Mason caught it with his tongue before it could fall; his lips pressed against the spot then slid down to his jaw. Sixty-three. Damon gripped his ass with both hands and started rocking against him. The friction was nearly painful with all the layers of clothes between them. Sixty-five. Ric’s head fell back onto Mason’s shoulder. He could feel it the second the last of the alcohol hit his bloodstream. His knees went a little weak and his head spun, the room nearly slid away from him. His inhibitions fell away as quickly as Damon’s pants fell to the floor.
Sixty-nine. Ric opened his eyes to find Damon staring at him intently. “Say no and this ends.”
“Don’t say it, Ric.” Mason breathed the words into his ear. “You want this, we all want it.” Mason’s hands fumbled over Ric’s button for a second before he opened Ric’s pants.
Ric kept his gaze on Damon but Damon wasn’t giving anything away. His expression was as clear and innocent as a child’s so long as you didn’t look into his eyes. They were burning laser bright and filled with desire. Mason shifted his hips again and Ric swallowed. Hard. “I want this.”
Everything blurred for a minute. When the room finally quit spinning Ric found himself divested of his clothes, on his knees behind a naked Mason who was also naked. Ric stared for a moment at Mason's hands -- he was holding his cheeks open for Ric while he swallowed Damon's cock. Ric shook his head in an attempt to clear out the bourbon soaked cobwebs. He looked over at Damon who was holding out a bottle of lube and a condom. Ric took the items from Damon and stared at them. “A condom?”
“I don’t know the STD rules about ghosts of werewolves and humans. Be safe, not sorry.”
Ric popped the cap on the lube and squirted some into his hand. “I can’t imagine they would be any different than vampire-to-human STD rules.” Ric smeared two fingers through the lube and teased the rim of Mason’s hole. Mason groaned and pushed back. “Greedy little bitch, aren’t you?” Ric asked Mason and slapped his hip. “Be still.” Mason stilled.
“Don’t be stupid, Ric, and put on the condom. He’s been with Katherine -- there’s no telling what sort of debauchery they’ve gotten up to.”
Ric pushed both fingers into Mason and scissored them open. “Damon, everyone in this house has been with Katherine. I think we’ve probably all got the same debauched diseases.” Mason made a noise and Ric tsked at him, scissoring his fingers as wide as they could go. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, it isn’t polite.” Ric tapped Mason’s prostate and added another finger, he fucked his fingers in and out of Mason’s body to the rhythm of Damon’s thrusts.
“Ric, quit trying to commit suicide by disease -- or any other method for that matter -- and start protecting yourself.” Ric watched as Damon pushed all the way into Mason’s throat and circled his hips. Mason groaned again and let go of his ass. He braced himself on Damon’s thighs before he took a face-plant onto the carpet.
“How about you quit killing me and then I’ll worry about my health? I’m sure every time I die I lose whatever diseases I’ve already contracted.”
Damon pulled out and Mason panted heavily for a second before Damon slammed home again. “But you don’t know that.”
“Neither do you.” Ric opened the condom with his teeth and rolled it on. “Satisfied?”
“Not yet.” Damon arched an eyebrow at Ric. “But I will be.”
Ric slid inside Mason in one torturous, inexorable push. He bottomed out, rolled his hips until Mason groaned again, then pulled out just as slow. Ric smiled at Damon across Mason’s body. “Match me?”
Damon’s head jerked up in a nod. Ric gripped Mason’s hips and Damon gripped his head. Ric fucked in slow and rolled his hips in a smooth circle, before he pulled out fast. He kept his pace and by the third thrust in Damon was matching him. Their eye’s met and held; Damon leaned across Mason for a kiss. Ric thought about denying him, but really, there wasn’t a point to denying himself a kiss, not when he was buried balls deep in a human/werewolf/vampire threesome -- that would be petty. And more than a little ridiculous. So he met Damon halfway, open-mouthed, full of sharp little nips and sweet kitten licks.
Damon’s breath hitched and Ric felt his cock swell that much more. Before Ric could break away from the kiss, Damon slid his finger on either side of Ric’s cock and spread Mason open further. Ric’s head fell back at the extra sensation, he quickened his pace, fucking faster and faster. Mason made a terrible choking sound as Damon matched Ric’s pace. “I want to be in there with you, Ric.”
Damon added two more fingers. Mason clenched around them. It was more than Ric could stand, he came with a shout, riding Mason’s ass forward until they both landed in a heap on top of Damon. Mason’s head came up open-mouthed, as he gasped for air, and Damon shot-off onto his face and across his back. Ric felt some of it his hair and hoped he’d remember to get it out before it dried and tried to glue itself permanently to his head. Ric belatedly reached for Mason’s cock, too little too late, as Mason was limp and covered in his own come, not nearly ready to go again.
“Not bad for a first-round, gentlemen.” Damon said between heaving breaths. “I only wish we could take it to the bedroom.”
“Or the shower.” Ric said as he dealt with the condom, tying it off and tossing it toward the fire.
“Maybe you should remodel?” Mason suggested. He was sweaty and practically glowing. Ric imagined they all were. “I mean, it’s nice here and all, but I don’t want to be stuck in your study for eternity, that would really suck.”
“It would, wouldn’t it?” Ric closed his eyes and rolled over onto his back. He could practically see the wheels turning in Damon’s head. Right now, all he wanted to think about was how, exactly, double penetration would work and whether or not he needed a prescription for Viagra to keep up with his supernatural partners.
~*~Epilogue~*~
November 2021
“I don’t see why you had to wreck our house for a ghost that only you can see!” Stefan said from outside the closed door.
“Stefan, we’ve been over this hundreds of times. This is actually my house, not yours. If you don’t like it, leave! Go find one of your little blonde girlfriends and fuck off for a decade or two.” The sound of the front door slamming shut echoed through the house.
“I don’t think you wrecked anything. The suite looks amazing. Dude, you have no idea how nice it is to be able to take a bath and fix myself something to eat if the mood hits.” Mason’s familiar hands settled onto Damon’s shoulders and massaged. “I won’t even complain that it took you ten years to do it or that you were gone most of that time.”
Damon turned in the circle of Mason’s arms and pressed a quick kiss to his chin. “There were things I had to do.”
“Jewelry you had to commission you mean.”
“Among other things,” Damon agreed. “He’ll be here sometime today.”
“Is she coming with him?”
“She can’t see you, so I doubt it.”
“That would be just like her, to come here knowing she’d make me disappear and ruin all the fun.”
“I know.”
“I see you still think the worst of me. Damon’s influence I’m sure.”
Mason turned around at the voice, Ric and Katherine entered his suite. He hadn’t seen Ric since Katherine turned him and they fucked off to god knows where five years ago. Ric couldn’t see him now since Katherine was there. Unless … hope -- something he hadn’t felt in years swelled inside him. “You can see me?”
Katherine held up a crystal. “So long as this is in your suite of rooms anyone can.”
A slow grin spread across Mason’s face. “Katherine, you do love me.”
“I love all my boys, Mason. Now, why don’t the three of you show me just how much you love me?”
The end.
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Damon/Alaric/Mason, Damon/Alaric, Damon/Mason, Mason/Alaric
Summary: Post Ghost World -- All the ghosts are gone, or are they?
Notes: Thank you
moosesal for the beta. Title from Placebo's Breathe Underwater. My oh my, how my blood boils,
Its sweet taste for you,
Strips me down bare
And gets me into my favourite mood.
I keep on trying, fighting these feelings away,
But the more I do,
The crazier I turn into.
Pacing floors and opening doors,
Hoping you'll walk through
And save me boy,
Because I'm too crazy for you.
Crazy for you
Adele, Crazy For You
Mason held up the clothes Ric brought him and inspected them. They looked like they would fit. “I really wish I could take a long, hot shower before I put on these nice, clean clothes.” He sounded wistful and more than a little sad.
“Wish in one hand--” Damon started with a smirk.
“Damon,” Ric interrupted before Damon attempted to pursue further flirtation by way of extraordinarily lame banter. “Why don’t you get him something for a sponge bath?”
“Kinky, Ric.” Damon shot Ric a look he refused to read then disappeared without further comment.
Ric nodded at Mason’s ghost and unloaded his research materials from his book bag. He spread the glyph photos across the desk then poured himself three fingers of Damon’s favorite bourbon and knocked half of it back in one swallow. He added some ice to the glass and promised himself from here on out he would take it easy. He settled down at the desk and sorted through the photos putting them in order. Damon returned shortly with a bowl, a pitcher filled with steaming water, and washcloths. The bowl and pitcher looked like something Damon had probably used himself when he was alive. Ric kept his focus on the glyphs and managed to refrain from asking.
He ignored Damon and Mason when Damon offered to give Mason a sponge bath. He sipped his drink instead of saying anything and tried turning one of the glyphs he hadn’t managed to work out upside down. It didn’t help. He turned the glyph upright and sighed. This was almost impossible. He pulled out his laptop and switched it on. It wasn’t like he could take a picture of the glyph and plug it into Google Goggles and ask for a translation, but the laptop was something extra he could focus on instead of what was going on across the room.
He continued ignoring them when Mason more or less begged Damon to wash his back. He knew they -- especially Damon -- were trying to get a reaction out of him. Ric had made a solemn promise to himself to never play games with Damon ever again. It appeared that vow needed some crucial editing. Ric sipped his drink, and swore on the dead bodies of the women he had loved that he would never play games with any sort of supernatural being ever again. He knew what would happen if he did. It was what always happened.
Whenever he slipped and fell into the drinking and the bantering and the body language and the verbal sparring with Damon (the less said about when Katherine was trapped in his house and he wasn’t staying with Jenna the better), Ric always woke up the next morning with a raging hangover, hand and finger-shaped bruises all over his body, and the feeling that he’d died (Again. He hadn’t had the eternity ring when Katherine was in his house -- he doesn’t like thinking about that time.) Considering the various fang imprints on major arteries and the strangulation marks around his throat he’d had to hide on each and every one of the aforementioned occasions, all evidence pointed to Ric not knowing his own boundaries and how to use a safe word as well as Damon not caring about his boundaries and safe word so long as he wore his eternity ring and would wake up alive in the morning.
Which is why Ric still hadn’t forgiven Damon for the last time he killed him (that Ric could remember). Neck snapping -- while infinitely quicker than exsanguination or strangulation/suffocation -- hurt even after one was no longer dead.
“Ow!” Mason yelped.
Ric resolutely did not look up and witness Damon engaged in a game of snapping a wet washcloth on the bare ass of a werewolf ghost he had literally ripped the heart out of. He drained his bourbon and then refilled it. With absolutely zero shame he typed ‘viking hieroglyphics’ into Google, Bing, and Yahoo.
Snap, pop, “Ow! Give me that.” Ric hit search.
Pop, snap, “Oh, the wittle werewolf wants some payback.” Damon sounded gleeful. “Come and get it Derek.”
“Derek?”
“Yeah, Derek Hale, Teen Wolf Mtv?” Ric clicked on ‘Heiroglyphics - University of Houston’.
“You watch the shit-shows on Mtv?”
“Believe me Mason, if you were gonna be any werewolf ever, you’d be Derek Hale.”
“I’ll show you Derek Hale.” Pop, snap. Growl. Crash. The distinct sound of breaking glass.
Ric was a grown-up. An adult. An authority figure. He was a goddamned upstanding citizen of Mystic Falls and the Gilbert representative on the Founder’s Council. He would not add referee to supernatural hijinks in the boardinghouse study to his resume. He would not.
Crash. A chair hit the floor. Thud -- a body fell on top of it -- crack! It sounded like wood splitting. Alaric clicked ‘A greeting from Big Ole, the Viking - National Little-Known …’ in the Yahoo browser. “Ow! Damn it!” A growl. A thud. Another crash. “No! Not the Chippendale gateleg table you cretin.” Growling, the dull sound of a fist hitting flesh, a hiss, another thud, then the crash of bodies rolling into yet another piece of furniture. “I told you not the gateleg table you filthy beast!”
“That is it!” Ric slammed his laptop closed and stood. “I have had it -- the two of you had better settle down or I’ll--”
Damon was suddenly in his face, the long line of his body pressed against Ric. Damon was smirking and leering and, “Or what? You’ll turn us over your knee and spank us until we’re good?”
“Oh, I know! You’ll tie us to the torture chair?” Mason chimed in from behind Ric, close enough that he could feel the heat of his breath on his neck. The two-pronged attack only strengthened Ric’s resolve to resist.
Damon deliberately shifted his hips so that Ric could feel just how horny he was. “What are you gonna do, teacher?” He rolled his hips and despite himself Ric’s body was responding. “Give us detention?” Ric focused on the wall across the room. He would not give in. He was a rock and the commander of his own destiny. He could not be led into temptation, again. Damon’s hands settled on Ric’s hips -- not gripping, just touching. Damon brought his face to the junction of Ric’s jaw and throat and … breathed. “Hmm? Tell me.”
Ric closed his eyes and counted to 10. It didn’t work. He picked up his glass and drained it. “I’ll drink all your bourbon and let you figure this out on your own.” He carefully put the crystal tumbler down on the desk. He packed the laptop into its travel case and replaced all of his source materials into his bookbag. He picked up both bags, slung their respective straps across his shoulders and started to leave.
“Come on, Ric, don’t be like that.” Damon grabbed his laptop bag and pulled Ric toward him.
“Yeah, Ric. Give us a break,” Mason added, hooking a finger into one of Ric’s belt loops. “It’s hard being an uncorporealized being forced to watch the world go on around you and be unable to do anything about it.”
Damon relieved Ric of both bags and pressed the re-filled tumbler of bourbon into his hand. “I was lost in the caverns all night, my brother’s locked in a cell, and it’s been a really, really bad week. There’s no harm in unwinding a little.”
“Damon, there is no such as a little anything when it comes to you.” Against all better judgment and the voices in his head screaming that he had just renewed his vow to never do this again, Ric sipped the whiskey.
“That’s what she said,” Mason deadpanned. Ric did not laugh. Mason closed what little distance there was between them. His hands rested on top of Damon’s and then he pulled Ric flush against him. Mason’s erection settled naturally between Ric’s cheeks. Ric drained the glass. Damon helpfully took it from him before he could drop it. Damon closed in on him until he was captured between their bodies. Ric closed his eyes and started counting. One. There was no denying that he was hard or that he was physically attracted to both of them. Who wouldn’t be? They were gorgeous -- all sharp angles, contrasting dark against light, with piercing eyes.
Fifteen. His heart was racing in his chest, loudly enough he could hear it in his own ears. It was impossible that neither the vampire or werewolf wouldn’t notice. He’d forgotten the werewolf was a ghost; maybe he wouldn’t hear. How did that even work? Ric attempted to will his pulse to slow, his cock to soften.
Twenty-nine. Mason pressed his teeth against the tender skin at the nape of Ric’s neck. Goose bumps sprung up all over his body and his hair stood on edge. The teeth sank a little deeper, stopping just short of hurting. Then the teeth disappeared only to be replaced by sinfully soft lips and a wickedly clever tongue. Ric shivered.
Forty-two-- the meaning of life. Damon’s hand slipped between their bodies and cupped Ric’s cock. He gave it a gentle squeeze while he started undoing the buttons on Ric’s shirt with his other hand. Fifty. A tiny bead of sweat formed at Ric’s temple, Mason caught it with his tongue before it could fall; his lips pressed against the spot then slid down to his jaw. Sixty-three. Damon gripped his ass with both hands and started rocking against him. The friction was nearly painful with all the layers of clothes between them. Sixty-five. Ric’s head fell back onto Mason’s shoulder. He could feel it the second the last of the alcohol hit his bloodstream. His knees went a little weak and his head spun, the room nearly slid away from him. His inhibitions fell away as quickly as Damon’s pants fell to the floor.
Sixty-nine. Ric opened his eyes to find Damon staring at him intently. “Say no and this ends.”
“Don’t say it, Ric.” Mason breathed the words into his ear. “You want this, we all want it.” Mason’s hands fumbled over Ric’s button for a second before he opened Ric’s pants.
Ric kept his gaze on Damon but Damon wasn’t giving anything away. His expression was as clear and innocent as a child’s so long as you didn’t look into his eyes. They were burning laser bright and filled with desire. Mason shifted his hips again and Ric swallowed. Hard. “I want this.”
Everything blurred for a minute. When the room finally quit spinning Ric found himself divested of his clothes, on his knees behind a naked Mason who was also naked. Ric stared for a moment at Mason's hands -- he was holding his cheeks open for Ric while he swallowed Damon's cock. Ric shook his head in an attempt to clear out the bourbon soaked cobwebs. He looked over at Damon who was holding out a bottle of lube and a condom. Ric took the items from Damon and stared at them. “A condom?”
“I don’t know the STD rules about ghosts of werewolves and humans. Be safe, not sorry.”
Ric popped the cap on the lube and squirted some into his hand. “I can’t imagine they would be any different than vampire-to-human STD rules.” Ric smeared two fingers through the lube and teased the rim of Mason’s hole. Mason groaned and pushed back. “Greedy little bitch, aren’t you?” Ric asked Mason and slapped his hip. “Be still.” Mason stilled.
“Don’t be stupid, Ric, and put on the condom. He’s been with Katherine -- there’s no telling what sort of debauchery they’ve gotten up to.”
Ric pushed both fingers into Mason and scissored them open. “Damon, everyone in this house has been with Katherine. I think we’ve probably all got the same debauched diseases.” Mason made a noise and Ric tsked at him, scissoring his fingers as wide as they could go. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, it isn’t polite.” Ric tapped Mason’s prostate and added another finger, he fucked his fingers in and out of Mason’s body to the rhythm of Damon’s thrusts.
“Ric, quit trying to commit suicide by disease -- or any other method for that matter -- and start protecting yourself.” Ric watched as Damon pushed all the way into Mason’s throat and circled his hips. Mason groaned again and let go of his ass. He braced himself on Damon’s thighs before he took a face-plant onto the carpet.
“How about you quit killing me and then I’ll worry about my health? I’m sure every time I die I lose whatever diseases I’ve already contracted.”
Damon pulled out and Mason panted heavily for a second before Damon slammed home again. “But you don’t know that.”
“Neither do you.” Ric opened the condom with his teeth and rolled it on. “Satisfied?”
“Not yet.” Damon arched an eyebrow at Ric. “But I will be.”
Ric slid inside Mason in one torturous, inexorable push. He bottomed out, rolled his hips until Mason groaned again, then pulled out just as slow. Ric smiled at Damon across Mason’s body. “Match me?”
Damon’s head jerked up in a nod. Ric gripped Mason’s hips and Damon gripped his head. Ric fucked in slow and rolled his hips in a smooth circle, before he pulled out fast. He kept his pace and by the third thrust in Damon was matching him. Their eye’s met and held; Damon leaned across Mason for a kiss. Ric thought about denying him, but really, there wasn’t a point to denying himself a kiss, not when he was buried balls deep in a human/werewolf/vampire threesome -- that would be petty. And more than a little ridiculous. So he met Damon halfway, open-mouthed, full of sharp little nips and sweet kitten licks.
Damon’s breath hitched and Ric felt his cock swell that much more. Before Ric could break away from the kiss, Damon slid his finger on either side of Ric’s cock and spread Mason open further. Ric’s head fell back at the extra sensation, he quickened his pace, fucking faster and faster. Mason made a terrible choking sound as Damon matched Ric’s pace. “I want to be in there with you, Ric.”
Damon added two more fingers. Mason clenched around them. It was more than Ric could stand, he came with a shout, riding Mason’s ass forward until they both landed in a heap on top of Damon. Mason’s head came up open-mouthed, as he gasped for air, and Damon shot-off onto his face and across his back. Ric felt some of it his hair and hoped he’d remember to get it out before it dried and tried to glue itself permanently to his head. Ric belatedly reached for Mason’s cock, too little too late, as Mason was limp and covered in his own come, not nearly ready to go again.
“Not bad for a first-round, gentlemen.” Damon said between heaving breaths. “I only wish we could take it to the bedroom.”
“Or the shower.” Ric said as he dealt with the condom, tying it off and tossing it toward the fire.
“Maybe you should remodel?” Mason suggested. He was sweaty and practically glowing. Ric imagined they all were. “I mean, it’s nice here and all, but I don’t want to be stuck in your study for eternity, that would really suck.”
“It would, wouldn’t it?” Ric closed his eyes and rolled over onto his back. He could practically see the wheels turning in Damon’s head. Right now, all he wanted to think about was how, exactly, double penetration would work and whether or not he needed a prescription for Viagra to keep up with his supernatural partners.
November 2021
“I don’t see why you had to wreck our house for a ghost that only you can see!” Stefan said from outside the closed door.
“Stefan, we’ve been over this hundreds of times. This is actually my house, not yours. If you don’t like it, leave! Go find one of your little blonde girlfriends and fuck off for a decade or two.” The sound of the front door slamming shut echoed through the house.
“I don’t think you wrecked anything. The suite looks amazing. Dude, you have no idea how nice it is to be able to take a bath and fix myself something to eat if the mood hits.” Mason’s familiar hands settled onto Damon’s shoulders and massaged. “I won’t even complain that it took you ten years to do it or that you were gone most of that time.”
Damon turned in the circle of Mason’s arms and pressed a quick kiss to his chin. “There were things I had to do.”
“Jewelry you had to commission you mean.”
“Among other things,” Damon agreed. “He’ll be here sometime today.”
“Is she coming with him?”
“She can’t see you, so I doubt it.”
“That would be just like her, to come here knowing she’d make me disappear and ruin all the fun.”
“I know.”
“I see you still think the worst of me. Damon’s influence I’m sure.”
Mason turned around at the voice, Ric and Katherine entered his suite. He hadn’t seen Ric since Katherine turned him and they fucked off to god knows where five years ago. Ric couldn’t see him now since Katherine was there. Unless … hope -- something he hadn’t felt in years swelled inside him. “You can see me?”
Katherine held up a crystal. “So long as this is in your suite of rooms anyone can.”
A slow grin spread across Mason’s face. “Katherine, you do love me.”
“I love all my boys, Mason. Now, why don’t the three of you show me just how much you love me?”
The end.
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Date: 2011-12-02 10:04 am (UTC)And I'm so glad Mason was the bitch for round 1... Oh my god, we have to make these three into a popular ship...
I'd say more but I have to go and run a cold shower... Bai...
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Date: 2011-12-02 01:09 pm (UTC)thank you!