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Asgard all-powers threesomeverse (connor, sophie, pyro)
The war was over but Asgard was incredibly loud all of a sudden. Connor cracked a bleary eye to check the clock… it was still dark as if it was the middle of the night, and sure enough, 2:41 in the morning. What the hell. He didn’t think much of it at that moment, just rolled over to crush the pillow over his ears or burrow into Sophie’s neck or something that would allow him to get back to sleep.
But Sophie wasn’t there.
That itself would not have been cause for alarm; maybe she went to the bathroom, she was allowed to urinate. What was alarming, and thus caused Connor to bolt upright and stumble out of bed in terror, was the fact that Sophie was a black amorphous lump that was flopping off the other side of the bed. He’d seen it before, in the other world and in nightmares since, but this wasn’t a nightmare. He knew because falling off the bed hurt, and the thump of his side on the floor was so incredibly loud he felt like it would blow out his eardrums. He cried out in shock and pain, and that only made both worse.
Pressing both hands over his ears Connor struggled to his feet, speaking as loud as he could manage. “Sophie? Sophie?!” Fuck, it was so loud. So loud he could hear his heartbeat through his hands and see every thread of their sheets even in the near pitch black of their room and was what he thought was happening actually happening? Desperate now he lowered a hand to the blob, grimacing as it squished down under his hand, and shook. “Sophie! John! John!!!”
But Sophie wasn’t there.
That itself would not have been cause for alarm; maybe she went to the bathroom, she was allowed to urinate. What was alarming, and thus caused Connor to bolt upright and stumble out of bed in terror, was the fact that Sophie was a black amorphous lump that was flopping off the other side of the bed. He’d seen it before, in the other world and in nightmares since, but this wasn’t a nightmare. He knew because falling off the bed hurt, and the thump of his side on the floor was so incredibly loud he felt like it would blow out his eardrums. He cried out in shock and pain, and that only made both worse.
Pressing both hands over his ears Connor struggled to his feet, speaking as loud as he could manage. “Sophie? Sophie?!” Fuck, it was so loud. So loud he could hear his heartbeat through his hands and see every thread of their sheets even in the near pitch black of their room and was what he thought was happening actually happening? Desperate now he lowered a hand to the blob, grimacing as it squished down under his hand, and shook. “Sophie! John! John!!!”
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It's rising and falling rapidly as he tries to decide what to say, how to deal with this, his body rigid with confused tension.
"Why. What's it mean. Just - just this?" He doesn't honestly think there's any more - they're a couple, deeply in love, and Connor is touchy to the point of being uncomfortable but not actually into him. He couldn't be. John just needs to make sure.
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"Just tell him, love."
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But there is still Connor to deal with. John can't tell if he's sad or hopeful, and Sophie's words suggest that they've talked about this before - does Connor really have feelings for him? How long has this been going on? And how does John begin to figure out how he feels about it? He's not - he's never been into a guy. Ever. Not in that way, even with the closest friends he's had. Connor is a whole level above even Bobby, so profoundly close and important that he can't put a name to it, but that doesn't mean he's ready to make it physical. Or that he wants to. Why would he suddenly want to?
"Tell me what." He's still so, so very on his guard. But he's yet to turn anything down verbally, which actually says a good deal more than words could.
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He's yet to spit anything out, and he can't meet John's eyes anymore, looking down at their hands. "That I just got my ribs cracked," he mutters, taking a shaky breath. "I'm in love with you. So yeah, more than this."
There. Done. And Connor waits, feeling almost sick with the certainty he's going to get a disgusted response. Sophie's presence at his back is comforting but not enough to keep his jaw from working anxiously.
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Connor's caress, so like Sophie's and coming not long after it, doesn't exactly disgust him. He shifts a little bit when he feels it, not away or into the touch but obviously surprised, and then Connor says the last thing he ever would've expected to hear. I'm in love with you. Somehow, them going for a friends with threesome benefits was more believable than this, and John's not sure that ever actually happens outside of porno.
He finally turns to look at Connor, and the abject misery on his face makes him feel a bit sick. However he feels, he didn't want to make Connor feel anything like this.
"I - I don't -" How often is he genuinely speechless? But he knows he has to say more, when he ended on a negative. "- I don't know what I'm supposed to - I didn't -"
Fuck. He scrubs a hand over his face and tries again. "Connor, you're the most important person in my life right now, but I don't know if I can - if I do - fuck." The last word comes out as a long, shaky exhale.
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"Did Connor ever tell you that story? About me breaking his ribs?" Her voice is a calm lilt, a quiet contrast to John's panic and Connor's hurt. "It was in the beginning, and we were both gone a little mad with losing our natures. He picked a fight with me, because I was out looking for one. It wasn't until after I broke his ribs and he'd picked up something to beat me with that we realized it wasn't each other we wanted to hurt." She pauses. "I think we'd been living together awhile before either of us mentioned that particular word." As she speaks, she nuzzles Connor's cheek, pressing her lips to the corner of his downturned mouth.
"What I mean is that it isn't saying the word, or knowing for sure. I didn't even know what it really meant for the longest time. It's staying here," her hand presses gently on his stomach, pressing the warmth of Connor's palm into his skin, "to see."
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"Just stay," he breathes, affirming. It's been too much for people to ask before. John Allerdyce is a difficult one to pin down. But their grip is always gentle enough that he can break away if he wants, which seems to be the secret to making him stick around.
He wants to say more, but it'll all hit Connor just as hard and point just as much in the wrong direction. Excuses for why he can't, he doesn't, he isn't. This isn't about Connor at all, there's no flaw there making it impossible; John just is how he is, like anyone else, and that doesn't include falling for guys. Right? That's not something that suddenly changes at eighteen, is it?
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"Staying." He's finally brave enough to meet John's eyes again, as well, and now there's hope back instead of just the shame of rejection. "It was's going to be anything you didn't want, anyway. We're still best friends, right?"
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"You see?" She's hardly one to talk, considering how long it took her to understand. It's much easier to see than experience. Her hand is trapped comfortably between theirs, Connor's enormous beneath and John's only a little larger on top, and she strokes John's stomach again, just lightly. It's another reassurance. You're doing fine. This is okay.
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When Connor speaks, John turns to look at him - rather like he's grown another head. Is that really what Connor thinks?
"Connor, you're not my best friend." And again he leads with a negative. He needs to learn the trick of this whole easing someone's mind thing. "You're - I don't even know what the hell you are, but you're way more than that. Both of you. Never mind staying in the house, I left my whole world behind. My kind. You -"
He just ends up staring into Connor's eyes, his own flicking back and forth as he tries to make his meaning known without words, because he can't speak the ones Connor has quite so easily. It slipped out with Euri, and he didn't know it was true until it was both said and said back. Besides, he can't conceptualize a love like this, considering he never knew any sort of love until romantic came along. All the other facets of it are foreign to him.
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"If you feel something, anything, and it's good? You deserve that. Just... to let yourself explore it until there are words that feel right." And then he realizes something else... if it's not something John doesn't like about him as a person, then. "If you're only hesitating because I'm a guy? Man, we're all different species. Come on."
He manages to sneak the arm underneath him up between them to touch John's face. It's alright. more-than-best-friend. We'll figure it out.
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Then she disappears from John's view, and there's the firm pressure of her forehead against the back of Connor's head, her nose pressing to his nape. Given how they're lying, it's about as close to a now, kiss as she can get.
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Ah. He's got a hand stroking his face now, warm and comforting, and his eyes slip shut before he even thinks that it might be the wrong kind of signal to send. It might not. All the lines are blurring right now and it's not like before, not a curse or another trick of the gods, it's coming from him and from Connor. Special, one-of-a-kind Connor. And Sophie, who doesn't appear to have a jealous bone in her body - who has, in fact, been encouraging this subtly from the beginning.
Whatever he's getting himself into here, he's not opening his eyes. There's nothing to prove, no one here who needs to know exactly what a big, strong, heterosexual manly man he is. Explore, Connor said, and when has John ever been about adhering to strict rules in any context?
His lips part very slightly, but he can't make the final move. All he can do is show this much readiness and hope that Connor will accept it for what it is.
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When Connor nips at his lips, it's a kiss he wants more of immediately.
He picks his hand up from the top of the pile and drives it through Connor's hair, coming alive as though someone has flipped a switch inside him - while Connor led with teeth (obviously a good choice), John is the first to introduce tongue, licking into his mouth hungrily and letting out an impatient little sound which suggests that Connor's tongue could never meet his quickly enough. The movement carries him onto his side, pressed right against Connor's body, and that doesn't feel like any he's been so close to before but he doesn't have to think about before. Just now. If there aren't the right soft spots and curves for his hands to follow, that just means mapping out new terrain.
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Her breath is warm on his neck, and she isn't particularly soft and curved either where she's pressed to his back. One of her hands slips beneath John's neck, elbow bending into a pillow of sorts that lets her run fingers through his unstyled hair. The other hand reaches over John's hip to Connor's, her thumb tracing the arc of his hipbone under his shirt.
Her lips are just slightly cool, but her tongue is warm when it darts out to taste the skin over his pulse.
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It's so intense that he's shaking just a little, especially when Sophie nips his neck and her warmth against his back vanishes. He knows exactly where she's going. Part of him wants to open his eyes to watch John's reaction but the rest of him just wants to keep kissing, letting out a soft moan when her hand finds its way back to his hip. As reckless as he is about the kiss he's careful not to hold John too hard or too tight, letting his friend set the pace for anything else. It reminds him of how things were with Sophie their first time, how he matched whatever he got but tried not to lead too far ahead.