Scalene Triangle

“No, no, you’re thinking of Gravity. Interstellar was the one with the killer alien.”

Sasha lets out a deep sigh, joining her hands beneath her nose. “Marcy. Bestie. Girlfriend. That’s Alien. Alien is the one with the killer alien. It's literally in the title. Interstellar is the one with the banger music and the morse code.”

“Of course I know Alien is about a killer alien, who do you take me for?” Marcy rolls her eyes. “I’m talking recent movies, Sashy. Something that came out around the same time as Survive on Mars. Something like-”

“Found it!” Anne’s cheerful voice suddenly interrupts the both of them. “You’re both wrong, the killer alien movie is called Life. It came out in 2017.”

She turns her phone towards the other two for emphasis. The corresponding Wikipedia article stares back from her screen, proving her right in this sci-fi argument that has been plaguing them for the past twenty minutes.

“Ah… My bad, then.”

“It’s no wonder we couldn’t remember this one,” Marcy muses out loud. “Life. Who names their movie Life? I really need fellow authors of speculative fiction to understand that naming their stuff with a single common word is a bad idea. It’s hell to look up! And don’t get me started on social media hashtags. If I want fanart for this movie, what do I even look up? #Life? Oh, I’m sure I won’t find anything else that could possibly be related to the general concept of life- oh my god, Anne, are you on tinder?”

Anne pulls her phone away so fast she might as well have been burned- but it’s too late. The notification icon has already been seen.

“Anne! Girlfriend, are you on the market?”

Anne scoots away from them on the couch. Hah! Nice try! Sasha only scoots closer. Marcy follows suit, laying across Sasha’s laps to reach Anne. “Anna-banana! Do tell us more! Any catch so far? Should we prepare ourselves to meet your boy/girl/joyfriend?”

Anne pulls her phone close to her chest, shielding the screen from view. “God, I wish.” She rolls her eyes at them. “But I’m not looking to date. I’m just trying to… you know. Hookup and stuff.”

Yeah, that checks out. Marcy remembers Anne mentioning a crush the other (day? Week? Man, she is bad at keeping track of their texts.) Marcy guesses it’s still relevant, then. “Any luck on that front then? Come on, Anne, drop the saucy stories!”

Anne sighs. She doesn’t seem as defensive as before, though. “I don’t have any, Marbles. I didn’t…” She pauses for a second. “Do you guys mind if I get a little TMI?”

HO HO HO? “Anne, I love hearing about other people’s sex lives. That’s the most delicious tea for me.” Marcy kicks her legs in the air like a teenager girl. “So spill!”

“I’m sure I’ve heard weirder at college parties.” Sasha nods. “Go ahead, girl. Get it off your chest.”

“Okay. Okay.” Anne lowers her phone onto her laps, taking a deep breath. Surely it can’t be that bad. “People keep assuming that I am a bottom? Which is, incredibly annoying. All my love to people who feel otherwise, but I like my dick. I like using my dick!! People keep trying to flirt by telling me how they’d fuck me, and I’m just… not into that. I wish they’d just ask what I like before jumping to assumptions.”

Oh! Actual TMI! That’s great. Marcy is so used to irl people being prudes compared to online chats, she honestly expected Anne to shamefully confess she didn’t know how to make good nudes. “Damn. That’s rude of them.”

Sasha squints her eyes. “Is it because you’re trans?”

“I don’t know, though it certainly does feel like it. Major weird vibes either way.” She sighs again. “It’s not even like I’m asking for all my kinks to be involved or bust. Plain vanilla sex would be fine, and I can’t even score that. What does a lady have to do to get her dick sucked around these parts?”

Marcy reaches out to pat Anne’s knee comfortingly. “Girl, I feel you. That’s why I stick to ERPs now, it’s less trouble.”

“That much?” Sasha asks, which makes Marcy chuckles. Of course Sasha is the one in their friend group to manage to get good sex.

Marcy rolls on her back, head still on Sasha’s laps, to look up at her. “Yeah. They get weirded out by my chest.” She raises a hand, trails a finger between over her sternum.

The fabric of her shirt caves under the light pressure. There is no skin beneath to stop it.

There is nothing at all beneath to stop it.

There is a hole, in Marcy’s chest, a thin incision from chest to navel where this sword had cleaved into her more than a decade ago. It’s no window to her guts; the sides of it are walled with skin. But there is a hole, a see-through thing, something that should never exist on a human being.

(Then again, Marcy doesn’t know if she still qualifies as human. Are you still human if your blood is green? Are you still human if binary runs under your skin? What makes a human? What makes a person? Marcy has long accepted that she has no answer.)

“I don’t blame them, obviously.” She makes a dismissive gesture of the hand. “I know it’s pretty freaky. But when your girlfriend of five months still asks you to keep your shirt on, it’s hard not to feel like a monster, you know?”

Above her, Sasha frowns. “That’s not fair to you.”

“… No. I suppose it isn’t.”

“This sucks. I’m sorry, Marbles.” Anne’s fingers thread in Marcy’s hair. Ah… this is nice. “Here’s to us getting laid eventually, I guess.”

Marcy nods, closing her eyes. A few seconds of silence follow. This conversation is over, then. She bounces a few discussion starters in her head, briefly considering jumping back to their previous Interstellar-Gravity-Life sci-fi debate, when-

“Why don’t we just fuck each other?”

Marcy’s eyes snap open, staring right at Sasha. “Come again?”

“I mean, not necessarily all three of us at once,” Sasha elaborates, “but if you guys are frustrated, I’m just saying. I’d totally do you.”

Anne squints her eyes. “… Elaborate.”

“What’s there to elaborate? You’re hot. She’s hot. I’m hot. I don’t care if she’s got an extra hole or if you don’t want to get pegged. We don’t have to do anything, obviously, but know that if you guys are down, I’m down.”

She’s saying this casually, but from Sasha’s lap, Marcy notices; her shoulders are trembling. Her smile is a little too tight. She’s nervous.

“Aw, Sash, I’m very flattered!” Marcy says, and she means it. It’s very sweet of her to say that. She reaches up to pat Sasha’s cheek. Unfortunately, this cannot work. “But you two, more than anyone else, have reason to avoid looking at my chest.”

She can feel the atmosphere grow heavier at her words.

Sasha reaches up, takes Marcy’s hand. “We can handle it. We’ve seen much worse than a simple hole.”

“Like the sword that dug it in the first place, perhaps?”

“It’s been ten years.” Sasha responds. “We’ve moved on.”

“No.” Marcy’s voice comes out much harsher than intended. “No, you did not. None of us did.”
No one responds to that. They all know she is right.

They have gotten better. They have grown, and changed, and become well-adjusted and happy individuals. But they did not forget. None of them would ever be able to forget. Even in a hundred years, when they’ll be wrinkly and sick- some part of them would always remember. If not the brain, then the teeth, or the fingers.

“Marce,” Anne is the first to break the silence. “I can’t speak for Sasha. But I can tell you, I can guarantee you… I may flinch at the sight. But I will not look away.” Her hand goes to wrap her palm around Marcy’s and Sasha’s fingers. “You are my dearest friend.  All of you. Not just the convenient parts.”

Sasha squeezes Marcy’s hand. “What she said. I would not have proposed the idea otherwise.” She turns her head and kisses their joined hands.

Marcy stays silent, for a few seconds. Then she squeezes their hands too. “Alright. Let’s give it a try, then.”

---

“Okay. Ground rules.” Marcy says. They’ve moved to Sasha’s bed, sitting on the edge of it. It’s probably going to get a bit cramped once they actually lay down and get to business, since it was obviously made for a single person, but it will have to do. “No vaginal penetration for me. Not even a finger. It’s not pleasurable to me.”

“Gotcha.” Anne makes a thumb up. “As for me, no anal penetration. Been there, done that, not something I enjoy.”

“Duly noted. I don’t even have lube anyways.” Sasha nods.

“You don’t?” Marcy raises an eyebrow. “You should get some. It’s always handy to have around. But alright, we’ll stick to stuff that don’t require lube then.”

“What about you?” Anne turns to Sasha. “Any hard no we should know about?”

“None that I can think of?” She scratches her chin. “I’ve never actually had any company but my right hand, so I’m not sure yet.”

Marcy looks at Anne. Anne looks at Marcy.

“What?”

“Nothing! Nothing, it’s just…”

“We were under the assumption that you had more experience, that’s all.” Sasha is so sociable and charismatic- it’s hard not to love her, Marcy knows it firsthand.

“Oh. Well, no.” Sasha shakes her head. “Fooled around here and there, made out at parties, but that’s it. I just never really had the occasion to do more.”

Fair enough. They can definitely work with that. “We’ll take it slow, then.” Marcy says, cupping the blonde’s jaw.

Kissing Sasha, she finds, is a lot like sitting by a campfire. Warm. Cozy.  Her hands are strong on Marcy’s hips. When people think of fire they first think of destruction, but Marcy knows better; knows that when properly tamed, fire brings safety.

( A tamed Sasha, whispers her treacherous libido, which has no appreciation for prose, Sasha in ropes, Sasha on a leash. A strong warrior to defeat, to conquer, to bend to your will- )

“Don’t just hoard her all to yourself, Mar-Mar.” Anne chuckles, draping herself over Sasha’s back. Their lips meet over the blonde’s shoulder. Kissing Anne is like water; a soft but insistent stream, comforting around her, but which could easily sweep her under. ( Perhaps Marcy should let her. Perhaps Marcy should drift in that stream, let the water take her and twist her and play with her as she will- )

And then Anne and Sasha are the ones kissing, and the sight is too breathtaking for any metaphor to accurately transcribe it. 

Marcy’s first thought is do I have a voyeurism kink? Her second thought is the Oh Joy Sex Toys Cuck Comic, which gets her snorting. Her third thought gets forgotten when Sasha drags her right back in.

They kiss for a while. Lips. Tongue. Teeth. Palms at the waist, fingers at the back of her neck. Hands start wandering on thighs, fiddling with the hems of shirts. They tumble towards the center of the bed, moved by the need to touch touch touch touch.

Anne is the first one to drop the top, leading to the following realization: Anne has nice breasts. Marcy had always suspected it, but it’s rude to stare at people’s tits uninvited, so she never had the chance to prove that theory until now. Sasha follows soon after, revealing her own lots of pleasures to the senses.

Marcy fists the fabric of her shirt, pulling it tighter over her skin.

“Marcy,” Anne calls, voice soft and sweet, as if she were drawing out a little animal, “Marcy, can we see you?”

“Pretty please?” Sasha drags her fingers across Marcy’s wrist, as if to taunt her with her touch. Hand against hand, lips against lips, we could touch you so much more, Marcy, you just need to let us, you just need to let us in,

With trembling hands Marcy takes off her top.

She hears a sharp breath. Marcy does not dare looking up at her friends. She focuses on unhooking her bra instead. Anything to not see the horror on their face. Anything to avoid this familiar disgust.

“Marcy.” Her bra falls down. She does not raise her gaze. “ Marcy. ”

A brown hand reaches out to tap on her thigh, and this, at last, is what gets her to look back at her two friends.

They’re not… comfortable. That much is obvious. They’re both noticeably more tense than they were a few minutes prior. Sasha’s fingers are drumming against the sheets. Anne’s smile is tight.

But they are not averting their gaze.

“Marcy,” Anne rises her hand again, “can we touch?”

A beat.

And then, very slowly, Marcy nods.

Just as slowly, so Marcy can back up if she needs to, Anne extends a hand. Marcy does not move, though, so soon enough her fingertips meet the edge of her hole. 

“It’s smooth…” Anne says, amazed. Marcy nods. She knows. She’d touched it once, a little after coming back from Amphibia. The act had promptly triggered a panic attack in her, the sensation too close to that of a sword cutting through her ribs. Still, she remembers the uncanny softness of the skin inside her chest, free of any scar or junction, as if it was always meant to be there.

She feels another finger touching her back, and Marcy gasps. She hadn’t noticed that Sasha had moved behind her.

“Sorry! Did I hurt you?”

“No, no, I’m fine.” Marcy shakes her head. “But… it’s sensitive. It doesn’t get touched much by anything, you understand.” She has a half-hearted chuckle. “Be gentle?”

She sees Anne nodding in front of her. Her own finger traces the outline of the hole. It sends shivers down her spine, discomfort and tickles and a dash of something else she can’t quite identify- “ Ah! ”

“It’s just me, Marcy. It’s just me.” Sasha says with a soothing voice. To her credit, she was gentle in sticking her finger through the hole. It’s not a wide slit though- while one finger can fit easily, two would not- meaning that even while being careful, Sasha’s finger keeps bumping into its sides, which, which, okay Marcy knew it was sensitive but she didn’t, it’s, she has never felt anything like this before and certainly not in the middle of her chest.

Softly, maddeningly softly, Sasha presses her finger against the right side of the hole, and Marcy has to grit her teeth to keep quiet. This is weird. This is very weird. Not sure if good weird or bad weird but this is very weird. 

“Holy shit, Marce,” Sasha breathes out, wonder-surprise-(desire?) “I can feel you breathing. Not like- not like holding a hand on someone’s chest. I can feel your lungs.”

Marcy nods. It might be a little frantic “That, uh, that makes sense. You’re quite literally in the middle of, my insides here. There are a lot of v-very important organs nearby, and, uh, some were originally where the hole is now and they got pushed on the side when I h-healed.”

Anne frowns. Her hand comes up to cup Marcy’s cheek. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine! I’m fine. It’s just, uh, very distracting.”

She feels Sasha retrieve her finger, which is a (relief) (shame.) She sets a palm flat on Marcy’s back, right next to her hole. “You really were close to death that day, weren’t you.”

It’s not a question.

Anne leans in to kiss her forehead. A wordless gesture of comfort. Marcy closes her eyes. It’s been ten years. She’s over it (mostly. She’ll never be completely over it.) From anyone else, the misplaced pity would anger her- but from the two people who know exactly what happened, how it happened, how bad it was- it’s very welcome. Sasha leans down, pressing a kiss over Marcy’s hole-

And the moment is broken by Marcy squeaking, grabbing madly at Anne’s arms.

“Marbles?!” Anne switches from comforting to protective in five seconds flat. “Are you okay?!”

“I’m fine! I’m- I’m- I’m fine, I, I didn’t mean-” she didn’t even know she could make those sort of noises, “you know, sensitive! Am fine! Just sensitive!”

Anne frowns. Marcy’s grip on her arms hasn’t lightened one bit.

Sasha’s hands circle her waist.

“Marce,” she starts cautiously, “Marcy, does this turn you on? ”

“I- I don’t know?” She tries to get her rabid heartbeat under control. “I’ve never- not in this context-”

She’s not making sense, but it’s apparently enough for Sasha, who follows-up by landing the wettest, sloppiest kiss over her hole. Marcy latches on Anne, holding onto her like an anchor to the seabed.

“Marcy?!” Anne lays her had on Marcy’s shoulder, glancing down. “What are- holy shit. Holy shit. ”

Marcy doesn’t know what Anne sees, but she knows what she feels; tongue and lips, the slightest scrap of teeth, the occasional finger tracing the outline of her hole. Sasha’s mouth, eating her out, devouring the hole on her back as if it were the highest delicacy.

And it’s working. God- she’s- Sasha is making out with her back, and it’s getting her moaning. She bucks her hips forward, running straight into Anne’s midsection, and oh he llo there boner.

“ Marce.” Anne hisses in her ear. Her hand dashes to unbutton Marcy’s pants, then slide inside her panties. Marcy does not stop her. “Holy fuck, she’s so wet. ”

The third person makes Marcy realize that Anne isn’t speaking to her- she’s speaking to Sasha, and somehow that information translates straight into arousal. She’s squeezed between the two of them, the center of their attention, a cute little toy for them to play with to rail rape use to their heart’s content.

“Marcy, Marcy, Marcy,” Anne kisses her face every time she says her name, “Marcy, I have an idea. A weird idea.”

“Wh-ah! wh- what do you-?” Sasha’s tongue is driving her insane with pleasure. She’d agree to anything like this. Yes, yes Anne, I’ll suck your cock, I’ll fuck my ass open for you, I’ll be your pet your master your victim your anything please please please keep going.

Anne sets her palm over Marcy’s chest. “I want to fuck your hole.”

Sasha pauses. Marcy takes a sharp breath. “It will never fit,” she says, oh but the idea of it…

“Not- Not stick my dick through you,” Anne clarifies. “But- rub it over your hole- like this.” She slides her hand up and down her slit. Yes- yes, this could work. Her hole is not wide, but it is quite long. If she rubs her cock over it, it might slowly make its way inside of her.

Marcy cannot nod fast enough.

“Oh, this I have to see.” They can hear the grin in Sasha’s voice.

The three of them scramble to get naked, their clothes suddenly too heavy for their sticky skin. Marcy falls on her back, half pushed by Sasha, and Anne crawls over her to sit on her stomach. 

“Comfy?” She asks with a bright grin. Her cock is leaking precoma on Marcy’s belly. It’s the first time she’s seen Anne’s dick, now that she thinks about it. It’s beautiful. An odd adjective to apply to a penis, perhaps, but it’s true. Like this, hard and hot against her skin, Marcy can’t help but want want want want, want to suck on it, want to feel it slide down her throat, want it fucking her thighs, want to feel it against her palms and tongue and inside her ass. God. Anne’s tinder contacts don’t know what they’re missing out.

“Very much so.” She says. Sasha sits next to her. She’s adamant on getting the best spectator seat. She takes Marcy’s hand and squeeze it. It’s sweet. Marcy squeezes right back.

Anne smiles above her, and she starts grinding.

Truth be told, it’s not as good Sasha’s mouth; Anne’s dick can only stimulate her so much, and frankly they could use some lube. But more than the physical sensation, it’s the action itself that gets Marcy going; the fact that Anne saw the physical reminder of her sins, the most disturbing part of her soul, Anne, who of all people should find it repulsive, and yet here she is turning it into something pleasurable, desirable.

Plus. On god. The view is incredible. She can watch ever flex of Anne’s stomach, every curve of her breast, ever bob of her Eve’s apple. Anne groans in pleasure and Marcy witnesses the slightest change in her expression as she does.

“Marcy,” she breathes out, “I can feel your heart. Through my dick.”

This is the most intimate thing Marcy has ever been told.

“Sasha,” she calls, squeezing the blonde’s hand. “Sasha, I need you to eat me out.” Anne is dragging her to the edge of that cliff, but it won’t be enough for her release. She needs relief. She needs stimulation. She needs someone to suck on her clit right now. 

Sasha chuckles. “Maybe if you ask nicely.”

Not that she would ever admit it to anyone, but Marcy had always thought that Sasha would be a good dom. She’s a natural at leading out of bed, it would make sense of her to be so in the sheets too.

Evidently though, she needs some work. She’s grinning too hard. Her eyes are sparkling. It’s obvious she’s having fun. Which is great, but that also means that instead of slipping back into subspace, Marcy feels the urge to rise against that challenge.

“I said, ” she growls, all heat and teeth, “go eat me out, now. ”

She can see the red spreading on Sasha’s face. The blonde nods timidly, then crawls behind Anne to grab Marcy’s legs. Marcy’s hand stays free for about five seconds, after which Anne grabs both her wrists and pin them down.

“You’re so hot when you’re confident.” 

Marcy grins at her, panting. “She needs some training if she wants me to beg.”

“Training?” Anne bucks her hips roughly. “From whom? You?”

“Sure. I can show her the ropes. Teach her how to use them on me. Literally and metaphorically.” She gasps. “No need to- to teach her how to eat pussy, though. She- she has it handled.”

Anne hums. “And you were so- meek, earlier.” Her hips slow down as she tries to catch her breath. “Should shove a vibe up your hole. Would get you all nice and subby. She could train on you then.”

Oh, that’s a nice mental image. “E-eager to get me pliant, huh? The two of you c-could do anything to me then. Sit on my face. Write on my skin. Make me your d-dog.” She’s babbling, she knows she’s babbling, mind spinning wildly through twenty different fantasies. But Anne’s eyes are dark with lust and Sasha’s tongue is all over her and Marcy cannot remember why she should stop. “I’d be helpless to s-stop you. Y’could pass me around. Or use me at once? I’ve got s-so many body parts to play with. I could- I could-”

The rest of the sentence gets drowned in her orgasm.

It takes her a while to catch her breath. She taps Sasha with her leg, signaling her to stop. Anne has topped moving on her own.

“You doing okay, love?” Slowly, she frees Marcy’s wrists. They ache a little. The good kind of ache. “Your heart is going crazy in here.”

Marcy tries to speak, but ends up chuckling incoherently. She starts rubbing her wrists. “Doing amazing, thank you.”

Anne smiles at her, bright and wide and divine, and she leans down to kiss Marcy’s forehead. When she pulls back, Marcy notices that Sasha has crawled back at her side.

“Did I do good?”

Marcy reaches up to grab the blonde shoulder and drags her down into a kiss. She can taste herself on Sasha’s lips. 

“You did wonderful,” she purrs. Sasha flushes even harder. “You’re so good to me, darling.”

The pet name slips out on its own. Prompted by Anne’s own affections, most likely.

Speaking of Anne…

Marcy’s eyes dart towards her. Her cock is still hard and flushed against her chest. It is very polite of her to stay still. Marcy ought to reward her.

“Say, Sash, do you like getting fucked?” 

“Oh, you know,” the blonde slides a lock of hair behind her ear, “I enjoy the occasional toy, yes.”

Marcy’s gaze trails down Sasha’s thighs. “You’ll have to show us someday.” The prospect of watching Sasha play with herself is incredibly appealing. “For now though, will you be a good girl and spread your legs for Anne? She could use some warmth to get off, as you can imagine.”

Sasha cannot get on her back fast enough. Anne scrambles off Marcy, muttering a “condom!” before darting to her purse on the other side of the room.

Marcy rolls on her side. Sasha is the close. The two of them are almost touching. Marcy leans forward to kiss her cheek. “Why don’t you show off a bit? Give Anne something good to look at when she’s back.”

Sasha stares at her for a few seconds. Then Marcy’s request finally clicks. She swallows hard, then bends her legs and grabs her knees to pull them closer to her chest.

“You guys are gonna kill me,” Anne mutters. Marcy can hear the crinkle of the condom. “You guys are gonna kill me.”

Marcy chuckles. Her hand trails between Sasha’s thighs, earning her a gasp. “She’s so wet for you, Anne. Just begging to get filled up.” The blonde makes a small noise and turns her head to hide her embarrassment. It only makes Marcy laughs louder.

“I’m here, I’m here.” Anne finally crawls back on the bed. Her hands come to hold Sasha’s hips, her covered cock rubbing against her pussy. “You good, Sash? Is this okay?”

Sasha glares at her. “Do you really thinks,” she hisses, “I’d be- like this - if I weren’t okay?”

Anne breaks into a smile. “I just needed you to say it, Sasha.” One of her hands move up, to cup Sasha’s cheek. “I am definitely getting you to beg next time, though.” And then she rolls her hips.

She’s slow. Whether it’s out of concern for Sasha or a desire to tease her, Marcy doesn’t know. Anne bottoms out and pauses, leaving the both of them to catch their breath.

“You can lay on her if you want, you know.” Marcy pipes up. “Smother her a bit.”

Anne glances at her. “But if I do, you won’t be able to kiss her anymore.”

Aww. “You’re so sweet.” Marcy sits up to kiss the corner of Anne’s mouth. “But I don’t mind, don’t worry.” A pause. “I want to see you smother her.”

Anne snorts. “I didn’t take you for such a voyeur.”

“I didn’t take you for such a sadist.” Sasha adds.

“I am a versatile woman with versatile talents.” Marcy smiles. Granted, she was unaware of the voyeurism until earlier today, but her ability to switch from sub to dom and from dom to sub is one she is quite proud of. “Sashy, if you could see how you carry yourself in your everyday life, you’d be invested in breaking you too.”

Sasha huffs. “I can certainly see the appeal of wanting to break you . You were less smug when I had two fingers inside of you.”

“Then I look forward to the day where you two can fuck me into submission.” Marcy really needs to break out her kink excel for the next time. She’s sure the three of them could do some really nice scenes together. “For now, though, Anne, if you wouldn’t mind?”

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