[Maybe he's aiming for a brief kiss. When he starts to pull back, Shaw chases after him, stealing a few more kisses as he works his way out of his jacket and shirt. She's not particularly soft or gentle about it - her fingertips press into his skin, her mouth is hot and insistent against his - but she goes slow, savoring the experience. And once his chest is bare, she presses her palms flat against it, giving him a little push to tilt him back.
[ Root has never seen a line she didn't want to joyously, callously smudge into oblivion. Why do people keep limiting themselves? They only live once, and they're putting boundaries on it. It's a waste of time.
Being dead, Root can't stand to waste time, now more than ever. ]
Uh-uh, [ she whispers. ] Whatever you do to him, I'm going to do to you.
[ Maybe not in a perfect symmetry, but close enough. Root starts pushing her hands up, aiming to peel Shaw's shirt off of her, toss it to the side carelessly and set her teeth at her neck in tantalizing warning and promise. The tall line of her body curves over her like a vulture waiting for a chance.
[ Okay, then. Carver hesitates a moment, wary, but he liked kissing back in the day and he thinks he might still like it now. There are stakes here, but they aren't so high. You have to think of unit cohesion, how the group fits together and in what configurations. Jealousy's a poison best bled out early. But in the end, he doesn't think these two care about that. Their focus lies elsewhere.
This can just be a collusion. Momentary, pleasant, nothing much deeper. But Root's moving again, biting at Shaw's neck. It makes a nice picture. He presses into Shaw's hands, humming a little. Getting used to the sensation again. He used to like this part, too. A long time ago. And there's no reason not to try again, is there?
His hands find Shaw's hips, dragging up to cup her breasts. Why not, right? They can just be people for a little while. They can be bodies, all three of them. ]
[Root's whispered little promise pulls a moan out of Shaw, equal to the one that Carver elicits when he palms her chest (and this particular symmetry she likes, thank you very much). In other circumstances, with other people, it might have been embarrassing - but she knows that Carver is probably too busy reading too much into his own actions to give her shit for hers, she's long since moved past the point of embarrassment with Root. As long as she doesn't get too unbearably smug about how easily she can get Shaw to roll over for her, it's all good.
Someone less good at multitasking might put all her attention into doing to Carver what she wants done to her - or, alternately, would lose track of Root's intentions and focus solely on the man under her hands. Shaw doesn't have that problem. She leans her back into Root, but cranes her neck up, not breaking the liplock with Carver. She hooks a hand around his neck, holding him in place firmly enough to convey intentionality, but not so firmly that he couldn't easily break away if he chose to. Her shirt's off, his shirt's off-- and her other hand slooooowly trails its way down his chest and stomach, her fingers tracing the waistline of his pants. Just thinking ahead.]
[ Jealousy is the furthest thing from her mind -- if anything, she's thinking the opposite, about how to make sure this goes well. It's so easy for others to miss that Shaw doesn't actually want to be in charge all the time, and Root assumes most of her prior lovers have required training or otherwise been profoundly unsatisfying.
They haven't talked about it explicitly, but Root puts a tremendous amount of thought and energy into understanding Shaw, and she has a natural facility for human connection besides. She usually finds people tedious, but she wouldn't be such a good manipulator and identity chameleon if she didn't have a base aptitude for them. So although they've had sex comparatively few times, Root is confident she has an accurate read on Shaw's sexual tastes. Therefore, she's being quite deliberate in making sure Carver notices how Shaw likes things. He said it had been a while for him and he was open to direction; Shaw is amusingly bad at communicating; Root sees a perfect place to step in.
Mirroring what she's doing exactly would make for awkward body mechanics, which just gives Root an excuse to remove her mouth from Shaw's neck and replace it with a hand, arm wrapping around her and palm settling over her throat. She gives only a subtle squeeze, meant to tease and not take over the scene.
Her other hand slides down to tease lower, fingers slipping past waistline just as hers search out Carver's. ]
[ Okay, Carver thinks, smiling at that noise Shaw makes. He likes the way she cups his skull with her hand, holding him there. Not pinning, but directing him. And it's easy to follow; he's good at that. Easy, too, to watch how Root moves. To take note of how she and Root fit together, the ways they bend. The hand Root puts around Shaw's throat like a promise.
His stomach tightens but he squeezes Shaw's breasts again, figuring out what pressure she likes. Maybe she likes to be contained the same way he does, sometimes. There'd be symmetry in that.
He doesn't flinch at Root's hand. Just lifts his hip and undoes his belt to help her, because that's easy. ]
Don't touch my scars, [ he murmurs, because he knows they're ugly - that dappling of keloid tissue over his hip, the knife and gunshot scarring on his back. He can still feel things there, just muted. He leans forward and sucks a mark into Shaw's throat, just because. ]
[Don't touch the incredibly sexy scars. Okay. It's a little disappointing, because she's itching to explore them, but she can rein in the impulse.]
You can touch mine.
[She tells him, low in his ear, as she guides one of his hands to her lower back. Her own scars aren't so dramatic - there are a few burn marks back there, as well as the bumpy aftermath of several stitch-jobs done in the field - and they're all easily covered up by clothing. But she can mentally match each one to a past job, most of them years old.
His hand on her chest is nice. But it's his hand here that makes her pulse quicken.]
[ Root isn't in a hurry; Carver undoes his belt and she flicks the top button open with a teasing nudge against the hollow part of his navel, then pulls her hand back and does the same to Shaw, leaving their flies open but unexplored. ]
If she can't mark you where people can see, you should mark her, [ she suggests helpfully. Her hand on Shaw's throat squeezes once, playful. ]
Don't be nice. She likes it with an edge -- and we don't need to hide you.
[ Ah. That gets a reaction, muted though it is. But this close, their hands all caught up in each other, Carver marks the way Shaw's breathing changes when she guides his hands to her back. He smooths his palms over her skin, feeling out the change in textures. The topography of scars even as Root squeezes Shaw's throat.
Don't be nice, Root advises, and Carver grins at her. There have to be rules, he knows. There have to be rules when people touch each other because otherwise it turns into something else. But it's not so hard to figure out here. He hums a little and digs his fingers into the line of an old burn scar just to see what it makes Shaw do. ]
Heard, [ he replies, teasing a little. Eyes bright as he watches them, brighter still as he leans in and presses a biting kiss to Shaw's throat. ]
[Sexbrain does not provide her with the vocabulary to finish that thought, but the clumsy grab she makes for Root's own fly gives a bit of a hint. Is this still fair game?]
Or you are you, uh-- just gonna play cruise director?
[Not that the cruise director gig is a problem, mind: Root reads her and her preferences absurdly well, and everything she's said so far has been spot-on. Carver gets the benefit of her flexing into his bite, her muscles twitching as he fingers her scar, and she shifts a couple inches closer to make sure it's clear that those weren't bad twitches. It takes concerted effort to remind herself that she can't return the favor. His hips can be a nice consolation prize, and she sloooowly snakes a hand down the line of one.]
[ Root is indeed a good cruise director. She's cerebral and stuck in her head even when she's enjoying herself physically, whether that's with action or intimacy, and she can enjoy herself without getting lost in the sensations or the adrenaline. Carver takes directions so well and for this, their first encounter, Root won't play games or lead him astray; the balance between them is tenuous, trust stretched further, to a new length. Meanwhile, she can read Shaw like an open book, and Root is happy to teach someone else how to please her even if it is tinged bittersweet.
She doesn't want Shaw to be alone without her. As long as the person in question meets her standards, of course -- so she's testing Carver here, just a bit, to make sure.
It's a little surreal having sex with Shaw down here in the subway, too, even if it's not as she remembers it, even if someone else is there, even with all the other changes. They'd had so little time in this setting before Shaw was gone and then when she was back, before Root was dead. But here they are again, a loss finally addressed.
There's no second chances. Root believes that utterly. This is a new chance, its own unique thing, and she appreciates it for that.
This whole exchange is about her orchestrating them getting comfortable with one another, so honestly, it's debatable whether she gets off at all. It just feels like not the point. If they insist, she's not about to turn it down -- but otherwise Root is going to see to it that they're both worked over and satisfied, crammed onto a queen-sized bed in a room she used to sleep in with a purple shag carpet and a softly ambient table lamp.
They're all sweaty and luxuriating in post-orgasmic neurochemical surges, tangled together, breaths heaving, but her mind won't stop buzzing.
Root is naked except for plain blank underwear as she moves to slip off the bed. ]
[ In the end, it's not as complicated or as fraught as Carver worried it might be at the back of his mind. He hasn't touched anyone like this in a long time, or even particularly wanted to. The door hasn't closed entirely, though. And maybe it's easier that it's just a moment, that he's invited into this space but knows he won't stay there, won't get in between Shaw and Root. What they have is woven stronger than whatever temporary presence he represents. And in that there's freedom. Lower stakes.
This can just be a moment, in the end. And they make it a good moment, the three of them. Shaw's strong and responsive, Root gives good orders, and Carver supposes he likes taking them sometimes. He catches his breath against the mattress, their clothes abandoned somewhere on the floor, and it's okay.
It's good, even.
He pushes a hand through his hair, eyes half-lidded. Still somewhat tangled up in Shaw. And calm, truly calm, for the first time in a very long time even as Root sits up.
Carver tilts his head at her. ]
Leaving?
[ It's like a magic trick. No part of him hurts right now. He can't remember the last time he felt this good. ]
[Shaw has no issue whatsoever with physical contact, but all the same, she accepts being tangled up only to a point: she doesn't like feeling restricted, and so by the time Root gets up, she's already halfway to being unentwined herself. She responds to Root's departure by continuing to pull her limbs away, but then resolutely pressing her shoulder against Carver's, making it clear that she will not be standing up.
Root's body silhouetted in the dimly lit room is a nice look, though. That ass, those shoulders...]
Chump.
[She says to Root, her fingers idly tracing patterns over Carver's bicep. Someone in this room knows how to do post-sex haze properly, thank you very much, and it's the person that most people assume would jump immediately out of bed.]
[ Root cares for Shaw far beyond reason. There is no entity in existence that could do so much as atrophy that connection, including the Machine. She has no concern whatsoever for Carver disrupting what they have; she just wants to make sure this will be good for Shaw.
Who is, as ever, the one of the two of them that's better at shutting her brain off. ]
I'll be right back, [ Root says lightly, answering them both at once.
She doesn't look back as she sashays out of the room, small pert butt framed by black cotton indeed giving a great view. Maybe she needs to pee, maybe she's getting them water; she doesn't explain. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
If he goes, she'll come along for the ride.]
no subject
Being dead, Root can't stand to waste time, now more than ever. ]
Uh-uh, [ she whispers. ] Whatever you do to him, I'm going to do to you.
[ Maybe not in a perfect symmetry, but close enough. Root starts pushing her hands up, aiming to peel Shaw's shirt off of her, toss it to the side carelessly and set her teeth at her neck in tantalizing warning and promise. The tall line of her body curves over her like a vulture waiting for a chance.
Perfect symmetry is boring, after all. ]
no subject
This can just be a collusion. Momentary, pleasant, nothing much deeper. But Root's moving again, biting at Shaw's neck. It makes a nice picture. He presses into Shaw's hands, humming a little. Getting used to the sensation again. He used to like this part, too. A long time ago. And there's no reason not to try again, is there?
His hands find Shaw's hips, dragging up to cup her breasts. Why not, right? They can just be people for a little while. They can be bodies, all three of them. ]
no subject
Someone less good at multitasking might put all her attention into doing to Carver what she wants done to her - or, alternately, would lose track of Root's intentions and focus solely on the man under her hands. Shaw doesn't have that problem. She leans her back into Root, but cranes her neck up, not breaking the liplock with Carver. She hooks a hand around his neck, holding him in place firmly enough to convey intentionality, but not so firmly that he couldn't easily break away if he chose to. Her shirt's off, his shirt's off-- and her other hand slooooowly trails its way down his chest and stomach, her fingers tracing the waistline of his pants. Just thinking ahead.]
no subject
They haven't talked about it explicitly, but Root puts a tremendous amount of thought and energy into understanding Shaw, and she has a natural facility for human connection besides. She usually finds people tedious, but she wouldn't be such a good manipulator and identity chameleon if she didn't have a base aptitude for them. So although they've had sex comparatively few times, Root is confident she has an accurate read on Shaw's sexual tastes. Therefore, she's being quite deliberate in making sure Carver notices how Shaw likes things. He said it had been a while for him and he was open to direction; Shaw is amusingly bad at communicating; Root sees a perfect place to step in.
Mirroring what she's doing exactly would make for awkward body mechanics, which just gives Root an excuse to remove her mouth from Shaw's neck and replace it with a hand, arm wrapping around her and palm settling over her throat. She gives only a subtle squeeze, meant to tease and not take over the scene.
Her other hand slides down to tease lower, fingers slipping past waistline just as hers search out Carver's. ]
no subject
His stomach tightens but he squeezes Shaw's breasts again, figuring out what pressure she likes. Maybe she likes to be contained the same way he does, sometimes. There'd be symmetry in that.
He doesn't flinch at Root's hand. Just lifts his hip and undoes his belt to help her, because that's easy. ]
Don't touch my scars, [ he murmurs, because he knows they're ugly - that dappling of keloid tissue over his hip, the knife and gunshot scarring on his back. He can still feel things there, just muted. He leans forward and sucks a mark into Shaw's throat, just because. ]
no subject
You can touch mine.
[She tells him, low in his ear, as she guides one of his hands to her lower back. Her own scars aren't so dramatic - there are a few burn marks back there, as well as the bumpy aftermath of several stitch-jobs done in the field - and they're all easily covered up by clothing. But she can mentally match each one to a past job, most of them years old.
His hand on her chest is nice. But it's his hand here that makes her pulse quicken.]
no subject
If she can't mark you where people can see, you should mark her, [ she suggests helpfully. Her hand on Shaw's throat squeezes once, playful. ]
Don't be nice. She likes it with an edge -- and we don't need to hide you.
no subject
Don't be nice, Root advises, and Carver grins at her. There have to be rules, he knows. There have to be rules when people touch each other because otherwise it turns into something else. But it's not so hard to figure out here. He hums a little and digs his fingers into the line of an old burn scar just to see what it makes Shaw do. ]
Heard, [ he replies, teasing a little. Eyes bright as he watches them, brighter still as he leans in and presses a biting kiss to Shaw's throat. ]
no subject
[Sexbrain does not provide her with the vocabulary to finish that thought, but the clumsy grab she makes for Root's own fly gives a bit of a hint. Is this still fair game?]
Or you are you, uh-- just gonna play cruise director?
[Not that the cruise director gig is a problem, mind: Root reads her and her preferences absurdly well, and everything she's said so far has been spot-on. Carver gets the benefit of her flexing into his bite, her muscles twitching as he fingers her scar, and she shifts a couple inches closer to make sure it's clear that those weren't bad twitches. It takes concerted effort to remind herself that she can't return the favor. His hips can be a nice consolation prize, and she sloooowly snakes a hand down the line of one.]
timeskip
She doesn't want Shaw to be alone without her. As long as the person in question meets her standards, of course -- so she's testing Carver here, just a bit, to make sure.
It's a little surreal having sex with Shaw down here in the subway, too, even if it's not as she remembers it, even if someone else is there, even with all the other changes. They'd had so little time in this setting before Shaw was gone and then when she was back, before Root was dead. But here they are again, a loss finally addressed.
There's no second chances. Root believes that utterly. This is a new chance, its own unique thing, and she appreciates it for that.
This whole exchange is about her orchestrating them getting comfortable with one another, so honestly, it's debatable whether she gets off at all. It just feels like not the point. If they insist, she's not about to turn it down -- but otherwise Root is going to see to it that they're both worked over and satisfied, crammed onto a queen-sized bed in a room she used to sleep in with a purple shag carpet and a softly ambient table lamp.
They're all sweaty and luxuriating in post-orgasmic neurochemical surges, tangled together, breaths heaving, but her mind won't stop buzzing.
Root is naked except for plain blank underwear as she moves to slip off the bed. ]
no subject
This can just be a moment, in the end. And they make it a good moment, the three of them. Shaw's strong and responsive, Root gives good orders, and Carver supposes he likes taking them sometimes. He catches his breath against the mattress, their clothes abandoned somewhere on the floor, and it's okay.
It's good, even.
He pushes a hand through his hair, eyes half-lidded. Still somewhat tangled up in Shaw. And calm, truly calm, for the first time in a very long time even as Root sits up.
Carver tilts his head at her. ]
Leaving?
[ It's like a magic trick. No part of him hurts right now. He can't remember the last time he felt this good. ]
no subject
Root's body silhouetted in the dimly lit room is a nice look, though. That ass, those shoulders...]
Chump.
[She says to Root, her fingers idly tracing patterns over Carver's bicep. Someone in this room knows how to do post-sex haze properly, thank you very much, and it's the person that most people assume would jump immediately out of bed.]
Sit still for once in your life.
no subject
Who is, as ever, the one of the two of them that's better at shutting her brain off. ]
I'll be right back, [ Root says lightly, answering them both at once.
She doesn't look back as she sashays out of the room, small pert butt framed by black cotton indeed giving a great view. Maybe she needs to pee, maybe she's getting them water; she doesn't explain. ]