1
Jemma opens her eyes to bleak blackness, and she’s afraid, for a moment, of the darkness. It stretches out in front of her, far too familiar and consuming.
Then she hears the sounds of breathing next to her, and she calms. She’s not alone. She’s not on Maveth.
She sucks in a slow, calming breath, before turning her head. It’s not nightmares that woke her. Not her own, at least, and she wonders which of her bedmates’ sleep is being disturbed.
The answer comes in a quiet whimper, and Jemma sits up. She has to carefully detangle herself from a clinging Daisy. It’s practice that keeps Daisy from jolting awake. As Jemma gets free, the inhuman curls inward on herself.
It’s a sight that twists something deep in her, and makes her want to return to the warm sheets and arms. But there is someone who needs her more right now, and Daisy would be the first to tell her to go to him.
Jemma abandons her side of the bed and circles around to the other. Fitz whimpers again, teetering on the edge of the mattress from where he’d withdrawn. There is a film of sweat dampening his curls to his forehead, and his face is scrunched with a pitiful frown.
Jemma pokes him in the stomach, and he flinches backward. She does it again, and he squirms away. She continues her soft prodding until he goes back, and back, and back- into the middle of the bed where he bumps into Daisy (who had inched a bit onto Jemma’s side of the bed in a continued search of her.)
Daisy immediately unfurls and turns in her sleep, clinging onto Fitz with a desperation that makes Jemma’s chest ache in contradictory emotions.
Jemma slides into the newly vacated spot, and then slides further until Fitz is snuggly sandwiched between them. She gently brushes his hair back, away from his face, and presses her mouth against his temple.
It’s not exactly a kiss. It lasts far too long to be considered that, but she can smell his clean scent and taste his sweat, and watches as her own breath stirs his drying curls.
She stays there a long time. Until his body sags, and his fingers curl in her shirt, and she feels the muscles in his face, against her hand, relax into the tensionless droop of dreamless sleep.
Only then does she draw away, but only enough that she can see for herself, even in the dark, that the nightmares have truly left him.
They have.
For now.
She’ll stay just in case they decide to come back tonight. She presses a real kiss between his eyes before sinking down into the covers. She doesn’t have to reach out for Daisy. Daisy is already halfway laying on top of Fitz and stretching into Jemma’s space. Her hand has taken a place right next to Fitz’s, twisted in Jemma’s nightshirt.
Whereas Fitz is lax in normal sleep, Daisy never truly does, even when she’s not being haunted in her dreams.
Comforted by the sounds of peaceful sleep patterns, Jemma falls back into slumber.
2
Jemma is yanked awake harshly with a sharp pain blooming on her cheek, and she bolts into an upright position as the perpetrator rolls away.
Daisy lets out a nearly silent keening noise that makes everything in Jemma ache more than the elbow that caught her in the face. Helping Daisy in her nightmares is a lot more delicate of a job than helping Fitz. With Fitz, it’s just about smothering him in love and affection.
Daisy doesn’t react so well with that method.
Jemma dodges another thrashing limb, knowing any marks that show up on her, because of Daisy, will chase the inhuman from their bed quicker than Jemma telling her she loves her. Last time Jemma sported the smallest of bruises, it took weeks to coax her back. She hopes dearly that one doesn’t bloom this time.
Before Jemma can reach out again, Daisy’s squirming causes her to bump against an oblivious Fitz. Daisy twists quickly at the contact, bringing her sheet tangled legs up to her chest, and she shoves.
Fitz topples from the bed with a loud thunk and Jemma lunges back toward the bed and scattered sheets. Even Fitz, who sleeps like a log, can’t sleep through a tumble like that, and he curses loudly as he staggers into a sitting up position.
“Who the bloody hell-”
“Shut up,” Jemma hisses. He falls silent, sobering immediately and abandoning his attempts to rub the pain in his rear away. “Get the sheets.”
Jemma finally reaches for Daisy before she can start trying to tear the skin from her neck and arms. She catches hot, sweaty, hands, and tugs Daisy back in her direction. Fitz works on untangling the sheets from twisting around the other girl’s ankles.
“I’m here, Daisy,” Jemma murmurs. “I’m here. It’s Jemma. You’re in bed with me and Fitz. I’ve got you. It’s okay. You’re okay.”
There are certain trigger words and phrases that she has learned to avoid. Words that send her deeper into her head, rather than pulling her out. Words that should comfort, not cause fear.
Telling Daisy that she’s safe doesn’t seem to make her feel very safe, and Jemma often agonizes about the situation that could have arisen to cause that fear response.
Jemma kisses Daisy’s hands cradled between hers. On the backs, on the palms, on each finger. She presses one hand to her face, and one to her chest.
She doesn’t touch Daisy more than that. Talking helps far more than touch does.
Dropping the sheets to the ground, Fitz moves back to the bed, reaching out. “Don’t touch her,” Jemma directs calmly. “Not right now. Don’t worry; I have this.” She presses another fluttering of kisses to Daisy’s hands. The anxious discomfort in Jemma’s chest, though, only starts to ease when Daisy begins to respond.
Her hands twitch and clutch at air, and then at Jemma, instead of resisting. Her breaths become hitching instead of gasping. Her body takes a little longer, and several more kisses and coaxing words, before it relaxes.
“That’s it, baby,” Jemma sighs tiredly, finally allowing her fingers to travel along Daisy’s wrist and up her arm. Jemma sinks back down on the mattress, curling her fingers in long brown hair, and Daisy easily falls against her body with little prompting- arms winding around her waist and leg pushing through Jemma’s before hooking in a show of her normal clinginess.
“There, see?” Jemma whispers to Fitz, who still hovers at his side of the bed. “Come back to bed; everything is fine now.” It’s not really, but that seems to be the favorite lie SHIELD (and their resident inhuman) likes to tell.
He accepts it with all the knowledge of someone who knows the lie, has accepted the lie before, and desperately wants it to be the truth.
It’s easy to pretend. Especially with them- Daisy and Fitz- curled up next to her, and it almost feels like it could be true most days- everything is fine now.
Fitz crawls into bed, leaving the sheets abandoned on the floor, and curls protectively around Daisy’s back. Jemma watches as he kisses the side of her head, and she aches and longs and sears for something that she already has. There is a fear and reverent hope that she keeps this forever.
Fitz reaches across Daisy’s limp body and finds Jemma’s already seeking hand. He squeezes, and she closes her eyes.
3
Jemma is so hungry, so thirsty, and the desert stretches out so far ahead of her in the perpetual night. She’s pretty sure the sun never rises here. She misses the sun, longs for it, dreams of it (when she sleeps). She misses the rain, too, and the clouds that sometimes part and show the light and bright sky just beyond.
She misses the sun with his bright smiles and curly hair and the sound of his voice that has been a constant in her life for as long as life has been good. She misses the rain and her smell and fierce strength and life sustaining beauty.
Jemma wants to go home.
She wants to go home and not be alone anymore. She wants Fitz and Skye and their bed and-
She’s engulfed in warmth and sensation. Sensation other than sand and exhaustion and loneliness. She feels lips on her cheek, on her neck, on her nose and forehead and chin. They flutter everywhere like little moth wings- like life.
Jemma opens her eyes, and it’s dark, but she feels the mattress against her back and two bodies sandwiching her on either side. Daisy’s hair tickles her cheeks as she kisses away the lingering loneliness and tears.
Fitz, on Jemma’s other side, continues to lightly bump his nose against her jaw and whisper reassurances in between his fluttering kisses.
Jemma sits up, clawing at her sweat soaked shirt. It clings to her. Clings like the lake water did after she was almost drowned and lay gasping in the dirt.
It gets stuck, and she struggles, hiccuping as she tries not to burst into tears of frustration. More hands join hers, calm and steady, and they easily maneuver the shirt over her head. When she’s free, Jemma collapses back down among the sheets.
Fitz and Daisy pursue her, settling against her sides and showering her in their love.
An intense longing, and affection, and sorrow make her reach out to them. Her fingers tangle in hair.
Daisy draws back only enough so she can look down at Jemma, and Jemma tries to silently tell her that even that distance is too far. She tilts her chin up slightly, pleadingly, and Daisy obliges her, like she always does, like there simply isn’t an option to refuse.
She dips and kisses Jemma long and sweet. Fitz watches, cheek against Jemma’s chest and listening to her heart trying to decide if it should be calming down or speeding up.
Jemma melts entirely, the feelings of dread and isolation slowly fading back to memories. Everything fades except the two people laying against her- lips and tongue and gentle, cradling, hands.
There is no Maveth when Daisy draws back. But the fear of losing them is still there. It’s always there- has been long before her isolation to a desolate planet, but that stupid space rock definitely made it worse.
Jemma tugs gently on the hair twisted around her fingers. “Please, I- please?”
Fitz reaches up and pulls her chin down, and then he’s kissing her so soundly and deeply- just like Daisy did- that she gets lost in him too.
Maybe she’s addicted. But how can something that you need to survive- like water- like the sun- be called an addiction?
Daisy’s mouth finds Jemma’s neck, and she gasps against Fitz’s lips. He draws back slightly, mouth curling reassuringly as she protests.
“Don’t worry, Jem. We’re here. You’re with us. We have you.”
************ (Story ends here if you don't want to read the rest) *****************
Jemma nods jerkily as Daisy’s fingers dance across her stomach. Her fingernails drag so lightly, that they don’t leave a mark, but it sends bees chasing after the feather touch. As Fitz kisses down Jemma’s body, Daisy distracts her by dragging her back into short, fluttering kisses that never give her enough time to respond properly before they flit away to cover other parts of her face.
It’s frustrating.
After the intense isolation of her dream, the touches, the kisses, the underwear being dragged down her legs- it’s overstimulation in the best way.
It’s almost enough to make her start crying again- but that might make them stop, and she’s distracted again, anyway, by Fitz brushing kisses up the insides of her legs and Daisy finally kissing her fully- tongue twisting against hers. Her teasing hand drags up to cup Jemma’s breast.
Jemma whines. Being two-teamed is completely unfair. Yet, she craves it.
Daisy doesn’t let up in her kisses until it feels like Jemma’s heart is going to beat out of her chest, and the overwhelmed feeling rises, and rises, and rises- and then Fitz’s tongue licks between her legs and Daisy pulls back to watch Jemma gasp and croon and fist a hand in Fitz’s hair again.
Daisy’s eyes never leave Jemma’s expression as she brushes soft kisses against her face and shoulders and collar bones. Her nails go back to tracing slow circles.
Fitz licks at her firmly, unabashed, and unhesitatingly parts her slick folds with his fingers. He strokes her once, twice, in warning, and then those long digits are curling into her in a steady push-pull.
Jemma arches, and Daisy gently catches her nipple in her mouth. Jemma can’t breathe. It’s a glorious deprivation.
Her head spins, and it’s astonishing how quickly they’ve wound her up, but she doesn’t want to go over the edge yet. Not like this. This isn’t what she needs.
She needs weight and presence and immediacy.
“Fitz,” she pleads, tugging at his hair desperately. She’s very close. There are lights dancing behind her eyes. “Fitz, I need- I want- please Fitz- you- I need-”
She almost regrets speaking up when he sits back on his heels, detaching his mouth from her clit and removing his fingers in the process. Even Daisy draws away, and Jemma is left exposed and even more removed from them than she was before.
But then Daisy is smoothly reaching into the bedside drawer and withdrawing a condom. She holds it up to the dim light of morning weakly making its way through their window. “This?” she asks. “You want this?”
“Yes,” Jemma bobs her head, feeling her pussy clench and throb. She would press her legs together to relieve some of the pressure if Fitz weren’t kneeled between them.
Fitz holds out his hand for the condom packet, but Daisy bats his it away and puts the plastic between her teeth. She reaches out to him and pulls his pants and boxers down in one fluid movement. His erection springs eagerly free, and Daisy catches it in one hand as she meets his eyes.
Jemma struggles up to an elbow, still trembling and clenching on air, but she needs to see this. She watches her lovers stare each other in the eye as Daisy gives Fitz a few slow pumps with her hand. His hips automatically shift forward with the movement, and his breath hitches as Daisy tears the condom packet open with her free hand and her teeth.
She rolls the condom on in another fluid, practiced, motion, as she kisses him. There is no tongue or teeth. Just soft, slow, gentle presses of lips. She’s as careful with him as she is with Jemma.
Jemma loves watching them together.
Then Daisy is back at her side and giving her that same, gut clenching, kiss as Fitz catches his breath. And then Daisy is gone and Fitz is settling his weight fully over Jemma. He kisses her more firmly than Daisy did, and it gets her heart ratcheting up again in anticipation as he grinds and slips against her.
Impatient, Jemma hooks her leg over his hip and reaches down between their bodies to grasp his cock. It pulses in her hand. Fitz sucks in a sharp breath, but Daisy just chuckles against Jemma’s neck and lightly scrapes her teeth along it.
Not needing any more encouragement, Fitz eases into Jemma, immediately starting up a steady pace. She doesn’t need time to adjust. They’ve done this a hundred times before. Everything about him is familiar and comforting, and makes her insides ache pleasantly.
His weight bears down on her, solid and real. It’s grounding, as her chest lifts and fills and tries to burst open.
Daisy, not to be forgotten, turns Jemma’s chin and kisses her lightly again. Sweetly. It throws Jemma’s brain processes off, because it’s so contradictory to the sucking slap of skin and the twinging pain of her breasts bouncing with each quick thrust.
Daisy draws back after a moment and turns her eyes toward Fitz. Jemma can’t help watching her, though, even as she can feel the telltale heat traveling up her neck and settling in a flush on her cheeks again.
Daisy is just so interesting to watch. Her teasing fingers leave Jemma to reach out toward Fitz again. She gently pinches his nipple. She tugs, and he groans, hips snapping quicker for a short burst that has Jemma’s head falling back and- “Ah!”
She gasps.
A grin flashes onto Daisy’s face, eyes tracking every reaction from them both. Her hands flatten against his chest, and Jemma feels a flash of jealousy that he can get so much contact at once, but it’s thoroughly drowned out by anticipation.
Daisy trails her hand down his body, cupping his ass. Jemma watches the hand rise and fall with his hips that beat into her cunt- almost as if she’s the one urging the steady pace. Jemma’s gaze follows the movement to Fitz, and gets caught on his stomach, slick with her want, and the sight of his cock sliding in and out of her.
Fitz’s hips stutter sharply, his dick twitching, and Jemma moans as her insides jolt with lightning.
Jemma’s attention snaps back up, wide-eyed, to see what Daisy has done to garner this reaction. Her hand has traveled farther over his ass to between his cheeks where she rubs small circles at his hole.
“Daisy,” Fitz hisses warningly, hips still stuttering. The teasing urges his hips faster in a rough abandon that makes Jemma keen and clutch desperately at anything she can get her hands on.
“Another time then,” Daisy teases, slowly drawing her hand back, and Jemma almost wants to protest and say no, now and send Daisy immediately to her toy drawer. Because the prettiest sight ever is watching Daisy drape over Fitz’s back and slowly, steadily, take him from behind while one hand is wrapped loosely around his cock- and watching Fitz completely fall apart under her.
But Jemma knows that they are making this session mostly about her, so she makes a mental note for later- and then she can’t think about anything else except the hand Daisy has just slipped between Jemma’s and Fitz’s moving bodies.
The fingers pause at Jemma’s pussy lips, bumping and wrapping briefly around Fitz’s cock so that he has to slide through her fingers for a few short thrusts, before those fingers travel back up to slip along Jemma’s clit.
Jemma is so wet that Daisy’s fingers keep sliding away under her gentle, barely there, touch.
“Daisy- Daisy, please- Daisy-” Jemma pleads, grasping at her with one hand and Fitz with the other.
It surprised her at first the way her lovers were in bed. Daisy seemed the passionate kind, and Fitz the gentle caretaker. Fitz is, of course, still both a caretaker and gentle, but he’s more firm, more ready to go faster- go harder- if Jemma asks. Daisy is always a slow simmer and build- hard fall kind of lover. And after a moment of actual thought, it’s not truly surprising. And Jemma wouldn’t change it for the world.
But with Fitz and Daisy working together, the contradictions confuse and overwhelm Jemma’s senses. Fitz’s fast pounding pace, mixed with the slow, light circles of her clit, quickly pull Jemma to the edge, but force her to teeter there for so long, it’s maddening. It’s the height of sensory overload just before it gets too much, except it kind of is too much because she can’t breathe.
It’s a relief when she finally falls from it. She can’t help shouting and writhing as it overtakes her in a wave of fire and a rush of liquid that makes a mess of the bed and Fitz’s stomach, and the sounds a whole lot more lewd..
Dimly, she hears a stuttering, breathless, “C-can I..?”
And a low response answering, “Yes, Baby. I wasn’t playing fair, but you did so good.”
Jemma forces her eyes open so she can watch Daisy leaning over her and kissing Fitz thoroughly, one hand gripping the side of his face while the other gently squeezes his balls. His erratic movements become even choppier, before he thrusts his hips forward one last time and moans deeply into Daisy’s mouth.
Jemma feels him soften inside of her as she watches the rest of him go lax and take on a glazed, satiated, look.
Daisy draws away, turning back toward Jemma with her own kind of satisfaction etched into her expression. She easily slides into Jemma’s arms as Fitz slowly moves to discard the condom.
Jemma kisses Daisy gratefully and happily.
“Can I do anything for you?” Jemma asks softly, even though she already suspects the answer. She grazes her fingers lightly over Daisy’s cheek, mesmerized by the flush and the feel of this little bit of skin. She’s the only one still dressed in pajamas, but it’s enough. Anything she’s willing to offer is enough.
Daisy shakes her head, bumping their noses in a quasi butterfly kiss. “Not right now. I’d like to just cuddle for a bit.” She kisses Jemma again, like she just can’t restrain herself (she doesn’t need to). “How are you feeling?”
“Loved,” Jemma says, mostly because she wants to say it, but partly to check if the brief panic still flashes in the other girl’s eyes. It does. Jemma knows that Daisy loves them. And Daisy knows that they love her. She just gets scared when it’s said out loud, for some reason. “Better,” Jemma deflects after a moment, so Daisy doesn’t have to.
Jemma turns slightly as Fitz returns, settling down on her other side, and she kisses him lightly, like she kissed Daisy.
There is a cocoon of warmth around Jemma, and it’s like the dream never happened. She’s home. She’s safe.
She sighs contentedly in her lovers’ arms.