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[achilles]

( slowly, gently, he eases his finger into her, an overindulgence of lube wetting down in a pool on the floor, making a mess of her by two angles. ash thinks she's never looked better, personally — fluttering eyelashes and pink cheeks, incapable of responding while he weaves filth around her, about her. if he could, he'd always have gwen like this. bent over at his feet, offering whatever hole he feels like playing with on that particular day. once her body feels comfortable enough around one finger, he starts with the second, teasing along her rim before pushing inside. )

Empty head, full holes, hm?

( there's a sound at the door that snags his attention, carefully pulling his gaze up to spot greer in the doorway, eyes a little wild in surprise. caught. how fortunate for them, ash and gwen's play time just happened to overlap with the walk greer takes daily to her little reading nook. surely a good husband would know about it?

for his part, ash acts like there's no real surprise, still easing his second finger inside gwen, being methodical with it, trying to ease the pain. his free hand, which had been petting gwen's hip soothingly, twitches. )

My wife. How good to see you. ( sternly, ) Come here. Shut the door behind you.

( followed by a snap of his fingers. he knows it's a weird situation. possibly uncomfortable, possibly for both of them — they might feel instinctively that they can't, or don't want to do it. but ash snapped so gwen has to come — and ash trusts them both, safewords in their hands, to be prepared to use it should they need it. if not? then the instructions are there, the same as always: listen, obey, or face the consequences. )

[guinegreer]

[ The truth is that Greer has been lingering just outside the room for more than a minute — and she has the keen sense, even now, that Ash had known she was eavesdropping and purposefully woven her name into the conversation in an effort to flush her out of hiding. Before she'd approached the open door, she'd heard the low, thoughtful tones of his voice, the same one he uses when she's already on her knees, and instinctively understood what she would be met with, despite the identity of the other person — the other woman — being a mystery at first until she catches the softest note of a whimper, a louder version of the sound she'd earned from Gwen's lips herself in that shared chalet bed.

Her fingers, suddenly slippery and clammy, squeak over the spine of the book she's gripping onto, and then she's there, hovering in the doorway, absorbing the scene before her: Ash perched on the edge of a chair, one shoe-clad foot assertively planted on the floor between the shameless splay of Gwen's knees, the spill of long, blonde hair across the carpet, white panties carelessly shoved down and straining at the elastic. She can't see everything from this angle, but she can see enough, between the plug inelegantly perched between Gwen's drooling lips and Ash's hand idly working in a slow, steady rhythm that Greer intimately recognizes from previous experience as the stretching kind.

My wife, Ash acknowledges her — and she is his, isn't she, wholly and completely, regardless of what she's inadvertently stumbled upon? Though now, Greer can't help but wonder if Ash planned the timing of this perfectly, always intended for her to discover them together, wanted her to be involved in some capacity. The collar creating a subtle ridge beneath the neckline of her sweater screams as much.

So Greer does as she's been ordered to, closing the door with a soft snick behind her but not locking it, and crosses the room until she's close enough to Ash to drop into a kneeling position at his feet, barely acknowledging Gwen because she hasn't been directed to spare her attention elsewhere yet. Her book is still in her grasp, even, and she brings it flat over her thighs, clasps her hands over the cover. The instinct to lean forward, to nuzzle her cheek against Ash's thigh, is so strong she nearly breaks the rules for it, but instead she lowers her chin, directs her gaze to the floor, and waits for his next order. Her safeword is there, can be reached for at any time, but her silence speaks louder in the moment itself. ]