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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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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.