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Title: Remiss Reminiscence
Fandom: Agents Of SHIELD
Pairing: Bobbi/Hunter/Mack
Rating: NC-17
Words: 747
Notes: Threesome. For [livejournal.com profile] avengers_tables, prompt "in the past", Multiamory March, and a prompt at [livejournal.com profile] comment_fic.
Summary: Hunter's complaining again, dredging up old memories, but Bobbi and Mack have plenty of experience in how to shut him up in all the best ways.



Bobbi’s head is thrown back, Mack’s lips dragging down over her stomach, Hunter kissing at the scars on her bad shoulder. She moans softly, pushing her hips up as Mack moves lower, lower, and that’s when Hunter has to open his big fat mouth.

“I’m just saying,” he grouses, and Bobbi groans in annoyance, gets a hand on his forehead and shoves him away.

She groans again when Mack’s lips leave her skin. “Have you ever noticed how every time you say ‘I’m just saying’, that tic in Bobbi’s jaw starts up?” Mack points out.

“I’ve got a point, though!” Hunter grumbles.

“I don’t have a tic,” Bobbi insists.

Mack just gives one of those huffing laughs of his, sitting back on his heels, decidedly away from between the sprawl of Bobbi’s legs where she wants him.

“Look,” Hunter presses on, like they didn’t finish having this conversation half an hour ago, long before clothes started coming off. But he’s like a dog with a bone, always has been, can’t let anything go. “I’m just saying, that time in Marrakesh -”

“You promised never to bring that up again,” Bobbi sighs, pushing hair out of her eyes.

Hunter waves a vaguely acknowledging hand in the air. “Yeah, but the thing is -”

“You do realise you were about to get laid, right?” Mack asks, smirking a little. “And that you’re ruining the mood pretty damn spectacularly.”

That at least seems to register, because Hunter’s mouth opens and closes a few times, like he’s just remembered they’re all naked and now he’s lost his train of thought.

Bobbi grins, shifting on to her side and pressing herself against Hunter’s skin. Because as much as Hunter loves a good trip down memory lane, usually as an excuse to complain about Bobbi and the hazards of marrying a spy, he loves sex more.

“Mmm, maybe for now we can leave the past in the past,” she suggests, running a thumb over Hunter’s lower lip. “Because as much as we all love listening to you complain, I can think of better uses for that mouth of yours.”

It works: Hunter fidgets against her, leering a little under her gaze, Marrakesh temporarily forgotten.

“Oh yeah?” he says, turning so he can pull her closer, the line of his cock sliding against her hip. “Like what?”

Bobbi grabs him by the chin, hauls him in for a hard kiss that makes him growl and rock against her. “How about you finish what Mack started before you interrupted him,” she suggests, and Mack spreads his hands with a shrug and a smile, shifting aside so Hunter can settle himself between Bobbi’s thighs.

He’s always been enthusiastic when he goes down on her, and Bobbi runs her hand lightly through his hair, feeling him roll his tongue against her clit. He slides a finger into her, and Bobbi makes a contented noise, slinging a leg over his shoulder and fucking her hips up, pushing herself against his lips.

Mack leans over, kisses her slowly. “You don’t want that argument to start again, you’re gonna have to keep him distracted,” he reminds her, and Hunter makes an affronted noise but doesn’t stop what he’s doing, grinding his mouth over Bobbi’s cunt.

“I know,” she says, feeling herself throb under Hunter’s tongue. “He’s a pain in the ass like that.”

Hunter makes a series of muffled noises that sound like, “I can hear you both, you know.”

Bobbi kisses Mack again, strokes a hand over his bicep. “How about when I’m done with his mouth, you fuck it next.”

This time Hunter’s noises sound like, “Bloody hell.” The words are even more muffled, and needier than before, and he moans appreciatively when Bobbi digs her heel in against his back, holding him between her legs and petting at his forehead when he works another finger into her.

Mack lies against the pillows beside her, one of his hands lacing fingers with Bobbi’s own, the other loosely stroking his cock as he watches the bob of Hunter’s head. “Sounds like a good plan,” he agrees, chuckling softly. “You gonna let him come any time tonight?”

Bobbi looks down at Hunter, catches him gazing up the length of her body at where she and Mack are pressed together, shoulder-to-shoulder. “If he’s good,” she teases. “If he earns it.”

Hunter makes a hungry noise and thrusts his fingers in deeper and, yes, Marrakesh has definitely been forgotten for the night.
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