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Everybody Wins, Everybody Loses

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That Danny accepts the bet doesn’t surprise her. That Mickey does should have surprised her, but she’s too far gone herself to notice how out of control he is. They got their mark, and their money, but innocent people’s lives were destroyed in the crossfire, and they got away in the nick of time with a bad taste in their mouths. Which has brought them to this point, all three of them drunk off their arses (Albie and Ash fled hours ago), Mickey and Danny facing off trading insults that feel like they’re about to turn to blows any moment now, with Stacie trapped between them. Danny wants her, and he’s not afraid to let anyone know; Mickey says he doesn’t want her, but he’ll be damned if he’ll let Danny have her, and it’s easier to fight over something familiar than to stop and face the fact that they all screwed up this time. None of them have ever been good at dealing with guilt.

“Oh shut up, both of you!” she finally screeches, and they stop, more from confusion than respect. “One game, one prize. Winner gets to screw me, loser gets to watch .”

They stare at her. She can see the instant beginnings of hard-ons in both of their trousers, feels a responding throbbing between her legs. This has gone on far too long, and she has gone far too long without sex.

What she never expected was that Mickey would lose. Part of her reckoned that maybe something like this could be the push Mickey needs, to get over whatever block he has about sleeping with someone on his crew. And she wouldn’t mind letting Danny watch. She’s not ashamed of the exhibitionist in her, and Danny is a sweet kid. If he wasn’t such a... kid, and if it wasn’t for Mickey, maybe something could have happened between them. But then suddenly there he is, triple aces to Mickey’s two pair, and from the look on his face, he never expected to win either. Mickey’s eyes are unreadable, and for a moment it occurs to her to wonder if he let the kid win... to punish her, to punish himself, to have Danny owe him...

She doesn’t have time to figure it out, because suddenly Danny is out of his chair and advancing on her. “You gonna make good on your end of this bargain?”

She nods, mouth dry, already imagining his hands on her body, his body pressed against her. She glances over at Mickey, unmoving in his chair, a muscle working in his jaw and his knuckles pale from his grip on the armrest. She doesn’t even realize she’s asking his permission to go through with it until she sees the minute tip of his head, and then it makes her furious.

She gives herself over to Danny’s clumsy hands, loses herself in his mouth on hers, tugs at his shirt, welcoming the sound of buttons ripping on her blouse.

She's naked before she can do more than get his belt unbuckled. He pushes her down to sit on the couch, and she reacts, confused at first, until he tugs her hips forward to the very edge, spreads her legs and kneels down between them. He kisses her one last time and then works his way down, and she lifts her head to realize she’s facing Mickey. She sees him shift in his chair when Danny bites her nipple and she struggles not to moan. She holds his gaze, can’t seem to break it, as Danny works her nipples until both she and Mickey are breathing shallowly. Then Danny lets one hand slide down to tease between her legs, and she hears herself begging.

“Please, Danny.”

Mickey shudders, breaks the eye contact, and she watches him watch Danny as he trails his mouth down her ribs, her belly.

It’s an awkward angle for his neck, but Danny manages, and Stacie is hurtling towards the edge faster than she can remember in recent history when he finally puts his mouth on her, lets two fingers slip inside. She can’t believe what comes out of her mouth, pleas and curses. Danny is doing glorious things with his lips and tongue and teeth, his fingers curling just so inside of her, and when Mickey’s eyes find hers again and he slides a hand down to rub slowly over his erection she convulses and comes hard around Danny’s fingers, not breaking eye contact until Danny slips his fingers out and she falls back against the couch, spent.

He’s not done, though. While she’s still gasping for breath he pushes her to the side to lay on the couch. She doesn’t know when he got his clothes off, but he’s naked as he gets on top of her, spreads her legs wide and kneels down between them. Then he pauses for a moment.

“You are so beautiful.” He strokes himself a few times, rolls on a condom, before positioning himself, carefully entering her with just the head. She whimpers. He leans forward, lets his weight rest carefully on his elbows and puts his cheek against hers to ever so gently move her head to the side. Mickey meets her eyes steadily.

“Go ahead. Imagine it’s him, if you want to.” Danny’s voice is soft as silk in her ear, and then he pushes all the way inside her with one quick thrust and bites her neck at the same time. She cries out, her breath hitching in the middle, and she instinctively wraps her legs around him.

When he starts to move she can’t hold back the sobs. She’s sensitive from her earlier orgasm, the pleasure skirting the edge of pain. It feels so so good.

“God, Stace, you’re tight.” Danny mumbles against her through clenched teeth. He won’t be able to hold on for much longer, his movements are already becoming erratic. He manages to work a hand between them, placing two fingertips over her clit and rubbing fast, and for the second time that night she comes hard, Mickey’s dark eyes boring into hers, only this time he follows her, his hand working furiously inside his trousers.

They fall down the precipice together, for seconds, a minute, maybe two, before she collapses, and Danny too, his dead weight pinning her to the couch. Her eyes slide closed, and she concentrates on breathing until she hears Danny cursing in her ear before he reluctantly shifts his position. She opens her eyes, and Mickey is gone.

Hurriedly, she scrambles out from under Danny, stumbling through the suite on unstable feet, but he’s not there.


Danny is snoring on the couch, and through her haze she realizes she’s in no condition to go hunt down Mickey.

She tosses a blanket over Danny to give him a modicum of modesty and stumbles off to her own bed. She can’t stop thinking about Mickey, a half-panicked feeling that she’s ruined them forever, but her treacherous body is buzzing too pleasantly from the alcohol and the sex, and she drifts off to sleep, powerless to stop it.