Every time he thought he found a new thing from the Earth-world to share with Surreal, another one cropped up that promised more fun and good times. He didn't think he would be able to top this one, though.

Daemon looked significantly disgruntled. He would have the feeling, Sam decided, that he was losing in a game of which he knew neither score nor tally. Sam being Sam, he didn't have the heart to tell Daemon that the only score being kept was the enjoyment value, and there was no tallying of points involved. He took another drink from his bottle, gestured for Daemon to do the same. The contents, of course, were different. He'd asked Surreal to procure some bottles of good liquor, brought up a mixture of his own distillation from the Tower cellars. He wondered, also, what effect the stronger liquor would have on those from the realm of Jewels. He wasn't about to find out this way, though. And they were already sufficiently drunk, in any case.

Surreal seemed to be giggling behind her bottle, which was all to the good. He felt a little ashamed of what he was doing between the two of them, not enough to stop him, of course. But she didn't seem to see any harm in some good natured poking at the Black-Jeweled Warlord.

"It's your turn," he pointed out to Surreal, when she seemed disinclined to continue further. "Unless you'd like to forfeit and end the game?"

"Why end the game?" Daemon asked and then, sharper, "What forfeit?"

Sam was good, and did not roll his eyes. "I'm sure I can come up with something," he smirked.

"Sam!" Surreal laughed, lightly smacking him on the arm. "That's not any of his business, and he knows it."

He wasn't sure if the look she directed Daemon was altogether friendly, but he didn't comment. The past several weeks had led to a sort of truce between the two men, one which Sam did not intend to push the boundaries of.

Any other man, perhaps, but not when it involved someone for whom Surreal cared so much. He should have been jealous. Perhaps he was, a little. And perhaps it was that which made him taunt and tease the other man so, or maybe it was just his own instinctively seductive nature.

They were far too alike, the two of them, in several important and deep-set ways.

"It's still your turn."

"Hm." She sat up a little straighter, glancing from one man to the other. "Daemon. And I choose to Dare."

It was Sam's turn to giggle behind his bottle. He stretched out on the carpet, leaning his back against the couch and wondering what she would chose. She was, he thought, more than a little tipsy.

"I'd rather have Truth." Daemon looked a little sour at the prospect of a dare.

Surreal shook her head. "No. Dare. I dare you..." Her eyes looked around the room as though she was trying to think of something else absurd for him to do. So far they had stood on their heads and hands without the help of magic, done the hokey pokey (and Sam was regretting that he'd shown her that one), stood on a chair and recited a silly poem in a stuffy tone, and put a vase on their heads and flowers in their ears. They were keeping to convenient truths by silent agreement, and silly dares.

He was thinking more on the state of things between himself and Daemon and less on what Surreal was daring him to do, which was his only excuse for not noticing the other man until he had crawled in front of him with a sick yet sensual grin he might have seen in a mirror once or twice or five hundred times. Despite the fact that they might well have been matched for sheer seductive capability, neither of them trusted each other with their intimacies.

"Why, Daemon Sadi," he breathed, hot over the other man's lips. "Are you flirting with me?"

"Not by choice, I assure you." But his mouth twisted into a desperate and vicious little smile and that, too, Samael knew quite well. "But the dare was for a kiss."

"Just a kiss?" Sam's eyes slid towards Surreal, but for once her expression was unreadable, her eyes far too intent on the two of them bare inches apart.

He wondered, now, if she was as drunk as she appeared to be. If Daemon was as sober as he pretended to be. And if she really hadn't played this game before. He wouldn't have put it past Keelia or Miranda to have taught her, or Fred, or any of the other girls around the Tower. And she would have seen it as a wonderful opportunity.

But an opportunity for what?

All these thoughts accomplished in the blink of an eye. A slow blink and a fluttering of lashes too long to be anything but pretty on a man. Daemon blinked, too, as if he wasn't sure they had been there before. Perceptive for a drunk man; Sam had indeed sharpened his appearance somewhat, a little more on the effeminate side, just a touch, nothing that would damage familiarity. His eyes widened as though still startled, his lips parting on a breath of surprise and the sound of vulnerability. Appealing to Daemon's cruelty and long-simmering hate.

He wasn't disappointed. It was obvious bait, and maybe Daemon knew it for the bait that it was, but he didn't much care right now.

Their mouths did not so much kiss as collide, teeth nearly clacking and Daemon's tongue thrusting rapaciously into his mouth. He could taste the wine on the other man's wet lips. And beneath that something more as the kiss turned into a lunge, as his back and shoulders slammed full up against the edge of the couch and now Daemon's chest was pressed against him, their bodies hot and lining up too closely.

As brutal as the hand down his thigh was soft. And smaller. Not Daemon's hand. Well, then they had all changed the game, and he reached out to slide his fingers through hers.

He broke the kiss to smile into her eyes, feeling the warmth of her smile in return, a question and answer that passed through them before he could even find the words to voice his desire. It was all right. She was all right, and he sat up to pull her into his arms and transfer the swelling of the kiss to her lips.

Daemon's fingertips dug into his shoulder as the other man settled behind him, Daemon's teeth in his neck. Like a vampire. He hissed into the kiss and heard Surreal swatting him somewhere, unsure whether it was somewhere he'd wanted to be swatted or more rebuke than ramping up the desire. There was a growl just behind his ear, but the bite turned to nuzzling. Fingers slid over his thigh, between his legs. He had to fight to keep still enough to kiss her, moaning into her mouth.

"You two are very, very naughty boys." Said in tones, of course, of one who didn't mind at all.

Sam murmured a protest as she leaned back, gently pushing him further into Daemon's arms. "But..."

"No," she shook a finger at him, smirking. "I think you two should settle this on your own."

Oh. Oh.

Surreal leaned back against the cushions as he settled into Daemon's embrace, feeling the heat of his breath over his neck as lips returned to suckle down at the join of his shoulder. It had, he realized, been Daemon's hand between his legs. Was still between his legs, fingers working a little clumsily at an unfamiliar fastening. He gasped again, relaxing and pliant into the other man. Dominance struggles could come later.

And she certainly seemed to be enjoying them getting along. Without a struggle, understanding after another moment of question and answer that Sam was complaint and submissive out of his own choice, and not any kind of intimidation or coercion on Daemon's part.

Well, there was the illusion of coercion. Forceful hands on his shoulders, on his body, stripping him slow and running over his skin. Daemon was a quick learner, pausing only for a second at every flinch or flicker of muscle under skin. He memorized every one of Sam's responses and when his fingertips played over him again it was to tease all the sensitive spots over his chest, down his back, till he was in a sweat and harder than he thought he could stand.

Fingers tightened in his hair, pulling his head back. He was on his hands and knees by now and only half remembered getting there through the steam. This kind of force told him what Daemon wanted.

"Please..." God, he wanted it too. "Please."

"Please...?" There was a cruel bite to his voice, made Surreal's eyes widen in what looked like the memory of fear behind the arousal. Well, that wasn't unexpected, though there was a story there he thought he wanted to know.

"Please... fuck me." Fingertips down the underside of his shaft, fingernails clawing at him just hard enough. He almost screamed. "Please."

He understood why in a moment, when there was more begging, words dropping down like stones from his lips because all he could feel was Daemon's hands bringing him to the edge again and again, the press of just the tip of his cock at his hole, teasing. Rubbing slickness over him, not enough that it wouldn't be harsh the first

time

oh god

he pushed in and Sam's head flew back, crying out. Daemon was bigger or he was tighter than he had expected and it did hurt, but oh god the pain felt so good. Working his way in him, through him, fingers digging into his hips and nothing but violent pounding thrusts fast and insistent now. He pushed back just to stay upright and did scream, eyes closed, flung over the edge and hot juices searing through him and spilling all over their hands joined on his cock. Daemon went a moment later, and they had to collapse.

Thought swam up out of sensation. Stickiness over his stomach, his hand, his knee where he'd brushed his hand down, his balls now as he moved to rub the ache away. A different kind of ache behind. Holy hell. Unholy hell.

Daemon had his head down and was panting like a sodden horse. Breath rasping in and out of his chest. He moved up by Surreal and made it half a challenge, not that either of them was in any shape to see it through. They stretched out to either side of her, Sam tucking his head to her hip and Daemon up alongside. He wondered if the other man thought he was claiming her by this. No, Daemon would know better.

"My boys," she murmured, or maybe he only thought she said it, or maybe it was just an echo of a past event come back to haunt him in the similarity, the synchronicity, the symmetry of it all. "My sweet, sweet boys."

He drew his fingers up over her thighs, playing in her curls and then lower with easy familiarity. It wasn't meant to pleasure, or not as a primary intention anyway. Her gasps and the sharpness of her breaths was a lovely side effect. The touch, the contact, the shiver of flesh he knew so well.

Daemon's fingers trailed down the line of his jaw and opened his eyes again out of shock and surprise.

They were exploring something new here, his eyes told him. A wary kind of a truce, born in sexuality, nurtured in the afterglow. The origins of their nakedness and hard-ons had been lost in the fog. He couldn't quite remember unless he concentrated (which he didn't want to do) how they'd gotten here, but if Daemon was touching him in that way he wasn't about to fail in responding.

Nor was he letting up on Surreal, fingers going faster as he leaned over her to kiss the other man with a confirmed softness. Felt the knuckles of Daemon's hand brush over her breast underneath them as they kissed. It came to him in a flash and surge of writhing bodies as he brought her again with his fingers.

No words, either with lips or with mind. He started her gently at her shoulders, brushing his fingertips over his lips and licking every inch of her before dropping the kiss from fingers to her mouth. She threw him a questioning glance over her shoulder, but rolled to face Daemon and rest one arm around his waist. There was the usual moment of possessiveness. It passed easily enough.

Sam stretched out against her back, nipping at the back of her shoulder and grinning against her skin in such a way that he knew she would feel it. Knew she would feel him pressed up against her backside, still more than again aroused by their actions. She wriggled back against him with a soft little laugh for his nudges. Daemon was still looking at him curiously.

And even now, he didn't want to say it.

His fingers curled around the other man's cock, stroking it with care and even love. Love enough to make him press his mouth into Surreal's rather than say something, he knew it was for that reason, knew it in the surge of emotion that pulsed through Sam as well and left him reeling in the aftermath. His fingers stroked along Daemon's shaft. Curled and tightened, flexed, fingertips pressing down to rub over his balls and between his legs. Gently pull him closer. Urging him inside.

Surreal helped, feeling what he was about more than seeing. She moved till her hips were aligned with his and threw one leg over his and he never had a chance. Sam felt her shiver as he entered her, finding her wet and quite willing, pressed against her behind for either encouragement or to feel him through her. Or both. God, the sound of it, the smell.

There was no rhythm or artistry to it beyond what they brought naturally, which was, even so, considerable. Daemon thrust into her and she rocked herself over him, and Sam's fingers clutched at the other man's hip while he rubbed himself between her, never penetrating, not this night. God, he was hard enough to want to and after the first few moments she was slick enough that he could have, but not like that. He could almost feel the tip of Daemon's cock, could imagine it thrusting into him as he thrust into her.

Her hand wriggled underneath them until she caught ahold of his and laced her fingers through, squeezing tight. A warning, such as it was. Just before the familiar cry, not soft this time but lusty and giving. Daemon's last few thrusts were sharp and uncontrolled, and Sam's fingers slipped between his legs just in time to catch the sticky remainder. The feel of it, hot and hotter, both of them over his fingers, sent him over the edge and shuddering against her. And then it was just breathing, just catching their breath and working their way out of the slightly awkward position they had managed. Good for in the mood, not so good when out of it.

Sam liked this position, at least, snuggled up against her back. He made a soft sound of protest when she moved, tightening his arm around her waist.

"We're going to be awfully cold in a minute," she pointed out. Her voice sounded rough and ill-used, but there was laughter in it.

"Mmph," Sam replied, gesturing a blanket over them, and then another.

Daemon had stood and got the blanket tangled around his waist when he started to move away, blinking a little. More surprised at the looks on their faces as they raised their heads to protest his departure.

"Are you sure?"

Not, Sam thought, that he cared as much what he thought as for her comfort. She nodded.

"I'm sure."

Daemon sighed as he bedded back down with them, curling into her. One hand reached over her hip and Sam caught it in his own, thumb stroking over his palm. From sex to security, nothing unfamiliar. That was the way it went.

That was the way they fell asleep, curled around each other, holding tightly to each other's hands.

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