#bapciofist

Lúcio is tentative at first, chest curling in on himself even as Akande braces him from behind, solid and familiar. The pressurised, recycled air is cold on his bare skin and his thighs tense in their shy attempt to close. This was Lúcio's suggestion, but he still resents Akande's gentle, immovable grip under his knees holding him open wide.

The third man steps in close and Lúcio shrinks back from the heat of his body. A light hand closes on Lúcio's inner thigh and he whimpers nervously at the hard cock that glides wet against his own. It's shorter and thicker than what he's used to, and the hot pulse of it makes him shiver. Behind him, Akande croons soft noises of reassurance, lips against his ear. Above him, Baptiste's expression warms with sympathy. Calloused fingers tip his chin up and brush his mouth. "Zanmi mwen. We don't have to." God, his smile still steals Lúcio's breath. It's a problem when Akande is already forcing the rest from his lungs with his slow and patient press inside. Lúcio licks his lips, chest stinging with guilt. He catches Baptiste's wrist. It is bare for the first time Lúcio has ever seen. Even naked, Baptiste cuts a powerful figure, and those swathes of dark skin seem endless, gleaming with the faint sheen of sweat in the low light of the drop shuttle. He has more scars than both Akande and Lúcio combined.

"Are you sure--?" "Trust me." That smile crooks wickedly and the combat medic taps the visor at his temple. An affirmative blip of sound initiates a command Lúcio can only suspect when Baptiste leans over them, hands planting beneath Akande's thighs on the table. Lúcio smells the sweet fragrance of strawberries from his gum. Baptiste rolls it on his tongue with a glance for his old employer behind Lúcio's shoulder. Whatever he sees earns Akande a sharp wink before his attention rakes down the pair of them splayed beneath him. Baptiste's gaze is shameless and appreciative coming to rest between Lúcio's thighs where Akande rocks in with a slick noise that makes Lúcio's ears burn. A new touch down there makes him startle and he gasps at the tug of Baptiste's thumbs pulling him wide around Akande's girth, visor trained on the spectacle. A low growl rumbles in Akande's chest and Lúcio huffs, breathless, under the involuntary shove of his hips. Perhaps Akande isn't so unaffected by this after all. Baptiste's smile is indulgent. "I'm enjoying myself just fine."

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