Unwanted Guests (Real Ghostbusters) - Part 3 of 3
Title: Unwanted Guests (Part 3 of 3)
Author: omorka
Fandom: The Real Ghostbusters
Pairing/character: Ensemble, but focal Peter/Egon/Ray
Rating: FRAO/NC-17
Word Count: ~25000 total
Kink: Threesome, hurt/comfort, possession
Notes/Warnings: Slash, M/M/M threesome, oral sex, frottage, a non-con-ish moment, minor transformation/body horror, occult content. Thanks to my beta, peoriapeoria, who took this on at the last minute; all remaining typos and continuity errors are mine, not hers. Standard disclaimer: I don't own the boys.
Summary: The 'Busters respond to an out-of-town call - unusual phantoms have invaded a wealthy man's private mansion. In dealing with the problem, Peter, Egon, and Ray call up a few unresolved issues from their own pasts.
Artist: ms_ellery, who did a lovely cover and wallpapers, also on short notice - huzzah!
Part 1 | Part 2
"Depends. How okay are you really, and how tired are you?" Peter glanced around. There wasn't a good place to hold a conversation down here.
"I'm fine; this really was just a scratch. It just stings, now. Emotionally, I'm a little churned up, but I bet you're worse." Ray rubbed at his eyes. "And I'm tired, but I'm not sleepy. Doing magic wires me up more than it tires me out."
"Yeah, I'll believe that." Peter tried to do an honest self-evaluation; looking into parts of himself that he usually kept bottled up was always difficult, but the situation sort of demanded it. "I got a couple of hours of sleep on the way, so I think I'm okay there. I'm not sure I'm ready to really discuss the emotional situation, but the longer we put it off the harder it's going to be to talk about." He shifted uncomfortably; his feet still hurt. "If you're not up for it, we can wait, but -"
"No, no, I think we should do it now before one of us chickens out again." That was unusually harsh language from Ray, but he didn't look angry, just weary.
"Kitchen?" offered Peter. If they were going to need to feed Ray anyway, it was the least conspicuous place.
"Sure, but let me leave a note for Janine first. If we're going to be up until dawn hashing all this out, she needs to know to let us sleep in unless there's an emergency." Ray climbed back to the first floor, Peter following more slowly. He wasn't looking forward to this; even with his best friends, it was difficult dredging through emotional silt.
Ray was already scribbling on one of Janine's notepads as Peter dragged himself off the basement stairs. Slimer had fallen asleep in his office instead of in the bunkroom, he noticed; the little green ghost was floating aimlessly near the door to the downstairs washroom and burbling. He wondered, not for the first time, why a Class Five would need to sleep at all. Maybe it was just a habit he'd picked up from watching the guests at the hotel?
They stopped at the lockers to remove their boots, and tiptoed up the stairs. Faint light spilled down the spiral staircase from the direction of the lab; the bunkroom was dark. They crept into the kitchen in their stocking feet, and Ray poked around in the cabinet while Peter poured a glass of orange juice for himself and a soda for Ray.
"Are you raiding Egon's stash again?" Ray asked, as he sat down with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, neatly sliced into two triangles.
"I think he can spare a cola or two after tonight." Peter pushed his hair back and settled both elbows on the table. "Besides, he won't notice unless we run out." He poked through the bowl of fruit on the table; Slimer had eaten all the bananas again. Peter picked up an apple and munched on it, more to give himself an excuse not to talk for a moment than because he was really hungry.
"Fair enough." Ray spent the next few minutes stuffing the sandwich in his mouth while Peter finished the apple, trailing his fingers through the drops of condensation from the two glasses on the table. The silence grew more uncomfortable by the second.
Finally, Ray swallowed the last bite of honey wheat and grape jelly and washed it down. "Okay. So. You and Egon. Me and Egon. Uh, you and me."
"Yeah." Peter gazed out the window at the streetlights. Saying it had been easy when it had been necessary, when it might have been his last chance to say it to Egon. Here, in safe (well, as safe as their lives ever got) and familiar circumstances, it suddenly seemed impossible and ridiculous again.
Ray cleared his throat. "How much did we actually end up explaining . . . then?"
"I'm not sure. I was amazingly smashed at the time. Even for me, even for then." Peter rubbed his eyes. He'd been a few weeks from graduating from Columbia; Egon was already in grad school over at MIT, but he still visited most weekends. How they'd convinced Egon to go to the fraternity party, he still wasn't sure. He remembered Egon being hit on by a particularly persistent Barnard girl, and realizing that his jealousy wasn't going in the appropriate direction. They'd left before Egon totally freaked out, stumbling back to his and Ray's off-campus apartment; they'd veered across campus, none of them able to walk straight, hanging off of each other.
They'd piled into the apartment, laughing at one of Egon's physics jokes; it must have been a fairly simple one, at least by Egon's standards, for Peter to have gotten it. Those blue eyes flashing, those pale cheeks rosy with drink and merriment and the last chill of spring in the air - and suddenly they were kissing, and not like brothers, either, and Ray's hands were on their backs and he was egging them on . . . .
Egon had stopped it before it went too far, but it had obviously been an effort. They'd talked, Peter knew, but he couldn't remember what about, exactly. Whether he'd explained how he felt. Whether Egon had explained anything. Whether Ray had said much at all. When they all woke up in the morning - Egon on the fold-out cot, Ray on the sofa, Peter sideways in his own bed - none of them had had the stones to say any more.
He and Egon had had two near-misses before that, too. Once, a few months after they'd first met, they'd been hunting for a particular book in the library stacks that had gotten mis-shelved, and Peter had tumbled off the ladder while goofing around. He'd expected Egon to scold him; instead, he scooped Peter up in his arms like a child, and carried him over to a battered couch by a study carrell. Peter hadn't let go, and dragged Egon onto the couch with him; the older student had let him, had held him close until the pain subsided enough for him to walk, and Peter had kissed him then, too - a chaste peck on the cheek, but it had promised so much more. Egon had blushed, and asked him how his ankle was doing.
Later, just before Egon graduated, Peter had gotten very, very drunk - why did alcohol figure so prominently in these stories? - and broken into Egon's apartment to talk to him. He'd been determined to tell him how he really felt, and he thought he had - but he'd woken up on Egon's couch, not in his bed, and Egon had gently promised him that he'd forgotten everything Peter had said the night before. He'd chickened out again and failed to press the issue.
Then there was the incident with the drill . . . but even then, Peter hadn't managed to say exactly what it was he was afraid of. Not just of losing a bosom buddy; of losing someone he - oh, there it was, there was the word he was trying too hard to avoid - loved.
And here was Ray, who had always looked at him and at Egon with the same hero-worship in his eyes. They were the first two people to ever take him seriously after his parents had died. Hell, they were the only two people to take him seriously, until some miracle gave them Janine and Winston. It had taken a long time for Peter to realize that Ray's hero-worship wasn't just Platonic. He still wasn't sure how he felt about that.
Well, okay, it flattered his ego, sure. Ray believed in him, in a way that even Egon didn't always. With Egon, he was always a little scared that something he did, something he said, would lead Egon to the logical conclusion that Peter wasn't worth bothering with after all. He knew better, but something deep in him still felt that way. Ray, though - Ray's love was unconditional. Peter could do and say anything he wanted to Ray, and too often did, and Ray would still forgive him, would still care just as much.
But - being the object of Ray's libido? Was he okay with that?
Did it matter?
It was real, whether he was okay with it or not. He remembered the warmth of Ray's hand on his back, the light in his eyes and the heat in his face, as Peter and Egon had come up for air that night.
"Peter?" Ray's voice had a hint of a quaver. "What are you thinking?"
"I was trying to remember." That hallway, the taste of Egon's mouth, the smell of Ray's breath, long fingers and stouter ones holding him between them. "What did you say?" Egon's hands were the ones he'd yearned for. That was the part of the memory he'd played over and over. But Ray's touch had been there, too, warm and supporting and all too easy to leave in the background.
It had felt . . . good. Not world-shattering, like the feel of Egon's lips had been. But still good.
"I don't remember everything." Ray's eyes followed the streaks where the droplets on the table had dried. "I know I told you both that I loved you. I think I said that I thought you'd be happy together, whether that future included me or not." He folded his hands. "That's still true. I know you love each other, even if neither of you feels like you can do anything about it. I don't know if either of you love me. I don't think you ever said."
"I do. I just don't know if I love you like that." Another memory of long, thin hands at his ribs and broad, strong ones on his back. Something stirred in the pit of his stomach. "I don't - Ray, you'd let me use you, let me hurt you if I wanted."
"If you needed." Ray's voice was soft, accepting.
"How can I risk that?" Peter pleaded. "I haven't had a relationship last more than four months in my life, and that was Dana."
Ray shook his head. "Peter, that's not true. You have two relationships that have lasted for a dozen years." He glanced upwards, towards the lab. "You just haven't slept with either of us yet."
Something about that 'yet' made Peter feel warmer. Still, he protested, "If I tried it with Egon and it didn't work out, what would happen to the business?" His voice lowered slightly. "If I tried it with you and it didn't work out, what would it do to you?" The thought of Ray in that sort of pain curled into a cold ball in his gut.
"Peter, I don't break so easily." Ray laid one hand on Peter's arm. The touch was solid, steady, warm; it felt . . . good. "Can't you trust me to want what I want, for myself?"
"I - " Peter had trouble trusting anyone, for anything. But Ray - yes, he could trust him to know what he wanted. Maybe not what he needed, though. He looked up and met Ray's gaze, steady amber gleaming in the kitchen's dingy light. "Yeah. I can."
"Peter." For the first time in a very long time, an old insecurity flickered across Ray's face. Peter stopped himself from flinching; the last time he'd seen that was when the EPA had threatened to sue them for the containment breach, when some bureaucrat had taken Peck's word over theirs despite the evidence of the eyes of every person on the island. That was Ray not trusting himself. Ray closed his eyes and searched the insides of his eyelids for the right words.
When he opened them again, he looked older, somehow. "Peter, I know you know what it feels like to want Egon. I don't think you understand how much he wants you, too. I've seen him looking at you when you weren't watching. There's - electricity, between the two of you. And I'm drawn to it like a magnet."
He swallowed, then took a sip from the soda. "If I don't get to be part of that, then that's okay. I've survived by just being near it for a long time, and I'll survive for a lot longer. But - I look a lot more innocent than I am, Peter. Yeah, I'm your first and biggest fan, and Egon's, too. But it's always been more than that, Peter." He put his hands out, palms up and open. "I've been burning for you, Peter, for both of you, since I met you." It was Peter's turn to swallow; something about so blunt a confession chipped away at his resistance. Ray finished, "I love you, and I love Egon. And I love you and Egon together, all the potential of the two of you."
Ray turned his palms back to the table and half-stood. "I wouldn't dream of taking Egon away from you, Peter, even if somehow he wants me, too. I won't, and I can't. If you two are, then you are. The question is, are we two plus one, and that's just the way it is, or can we be three?" He swallowed again, hard. "I'll be fine either way. I just need to know the math."
Something smoldered in the depths of Ray's eyes - need, and a rawness that Peter recognized in himself. He felt his body responding. Perhaps it was wiser than he was. He hoped so.
Peter pushed himself to his feet and edged around the table. "C'mere, Ray." The younger Ghostbuster pulled himself out of his chair and threw himself at Peter with a tiny cry, his arms curling around him hard enough to knock the wind out of a bear.
It felt comfortable. It felt like coming home.
Something warm and crackling unfolded in Peter's chest; not the caged lightning that he felt when he touched Egon - more like a campfire, a promise of safety and warmth in the middle of something dark and wild. He held Ray tighter, and wondered how he could have been so blind to what had been right in front of him.
"Three, Ray." Peter brushed his cheek against Ray's hair, somehow both bristly and soft. "The three of us, or none at all."
"Oh, Peter," Ray sighed, almost sobbed, against the taller man's chest.
They stayed like that for a long minute, arms around each other, just taking comfort in the other's strength. Finally, Ray drew a deep breath and looked up. "Do we talk to Egon now or later?"
Peter carefully let go of Ray and stuck his head out of the kitchen doorway. Light still filtered dimly down from the lab. "The longer we wait, the worse the wall he's going to build around it. Let's see if we can at least lose him a few bricks."
---
The screwdriver in Egon's fingers spun aimlessly against a connection already tightened. He sighed and brushed the drooping ends of the pipecurl out of his eyes. His body was tired, almost exhausted, but he knew perfectly well what would happen if he tried to sleep in his current condition. Jolting his friends awake with his nightmares seemed both undignified and ungrateful; staring at the ceiling for hours with his mind racing would leave him worse off than the nightmares, although the others might sleep better.
Light, familiar footsteps fell behind him; the lab door sighed gently on its hinges as two bodies edged through the doorway. He knew without looking who they were, and he suspected he knew why they were here. His cheeks burned with sudden embarrassment, and he twirled the screwdriver again, trying to look busy.
As if that would put off Peter. "Hey, Egon," the warm tenor voice crooned behind him, "Ray and I wanted to check in with you. How are you doing?"
For a moment, Egon considered outright lying, but Peter almost always saw right through that, and lying to Ray seemed almost cruel. He set the screwdriver down carefully. "Physically, I'm fine, Peter. There don't seem to be any lingering aftereffects of my temporary transformation." That wasn't what Peter was asking about, and he knew that. He took another deep breath before continuing, "Mentally, I haven't noticed any significant impairment, but my ability to concentrate on one thing at a time has been somewhat disrupted."
Peter nodded slowly. "I suspect getting some sleep will help with that."
"You are probably correct." Egon reached over and switched off the soldering iron. The best possible outcome at this point would be Peter's ordering him to bed. Suddenly, staring at the ceiling didn't seem like such a bad idea.
He felt rather than saw his friends exchange a glance. "He's gone full introvert on us, Ray," Peter commented matter-of-factly. "It's worse than I thought."
Egon straightened the tools on the lab bench and turned to face them. "I'm sorry, Peter," he said, not quite looking at either of them. "It isn't my intention to shut you out."
"Then why'd you run away from us down there?" Ray asked, the accusation in his voice gentled by his obvious concern.
Egon glanced away, his eyes catching the streetlights from the windows. "I . . . wanted to get as far away from the Elvenking as possible. It wasn't about you."
Peter raised his eyebrows. "Really?"
Egon sank into the rolling desk chair, his knees askew. "Yes, Peter. And since you will stand there and keep asking until I tell you, I am feeling deeply inadequate for not being strong enough to keep him from . . . possessing me."
Peter and Ray exchanged a second silent glance that passed several meanings back and forth. Peter, at least, seemed surprised. Egon closed his eyes and leaned forwards, elbows on his knees, hands at his temples. "I'm supposed to have a first-rate intellect, and I can't even keep a dead Unseelie out of my own mind and body."
Two hands touched his back gently, one broad and steady, the other strong and reassuring. "Spengs," Peter murmured softly, "do you really think I'm that weak-minded for being Watt's host that one time?"
"Or worse, my being Vigo's," Ray added from the other side.
"No, of course not." Egon sat up and glared at each of them in turn. "Watt was a Class Seven near the top of its scale, a major demon with an army behind it. No mortal could have stood up to that sort of a psychic assault. And Vigo was one of the most powerful known sorcerers when he was alive."
"And this guy was apparently Unseelie royalty when he was alive, and a sorcerer to boot," chided Peter. "Who knows how old he was? I'll bet he was ancient when Vigo was in whatever they used for diapers back in the Dark Ages."
Egon started to protest, and then realized that anything he said would require a logical inconsistency. His jaw worked silently for a moment. "You don't think I've demonstrated a fatal weakness?"
"Only if you think we have, too," Ray shrugged. "When a spirit that buff decides they want your body, there's not a whole lot you can do."
"No matter how hard you fight it," Peter said in what was close to a whisper.
"But you expected me to be able to," Egon objected. "You kept urging me to fight him."
"I hoped." Peter's gaze turned downwards. "I figured if anyone could, it would be you, Spengs. And . . . I know when I was fighting, even if it wasn't getting me my body back, it was distracting Watt. I think it helped, even if it wasn't enough on its own. Same with the Fairy Fuhrer - he had his hands full dealing with you; he couldn't deal with that and Ray's spell, too."
Egon's eyes unfocused. "What did it . . . feel like, for you?"
Peter blinked slowly. "You mean, when Watt took up residence in my skull?" He waited as Egon nodded. "Damn crappy." Ray gave him a warning look, and he sighed and perched on the arm of the old ragged sofa. "There was almost no warning. She grabbed me physically, and then she wasn't physical anymore, and then I wasn't me anymore, I was overwhelmed and thrown into a corner of myself. She had my body, she had my memories, and she damn near had my mind. It took me until she got to the basement to get my, I guess it was my soul, together enough to even try to fight back." His gaze fell to his feet as his voice grew tighter. "And then I lost. I tried, and she beat me back so thoroughly I almost couldn't think anymore." He shifted his weight. "I don't want to say that I know what it feels like to be raped, to have your body used that way violently by a stranger, but everything I've read about that and everything I remember from this makes it sound like the experiences aren't completely different, either." His tone softened again at the very end, and Egon felt Peter's eyes on him, offering empathy that he wasn't yet prepared to take.
"If Watt was stranger rape, then Vigo was date rape with roofies," broke in Ray, and his voice was uncharacteristically bitter. "He'd softened me up first, gotten a little bit into my head, made me miss things at the museum and then drive like a suicidal maniac later."
"Not that we could tell the difference," Peter joked, but it was a reflex; his eyes were serious and concerned.
"He didn't really want me, you know. I was Plan C, after Oscar and Janosz. I didn't know that until afterwards, though. There was a certain amount of - seduction, I guess. He tempted me, offered to share his occult knowledge and power with me if I took him willingly. I turned him down - it wasn't really all that tempting. I'm not sure I could handle more than I already know if it was all at once like that." Ray wandered over to the other end of the sofa and sat down heavily. "And then he forced his way into my head and stuffed me into my own subconscious. Peter, at least you could get it together to struggle; I don't think I ever did."
"You didn't have time," Egon protested. "Winston realized what had happened instantly; by the time you might have recovered enough from the shock to fight him off, you were coated in positive mood slime and he was forced to vacate you."
"True," Ray agreed warily, "but the point here is that I didn't realize what was going on in time, even in the early stages before he invaded my body and mind."
Egon looked carefully at each of them. They'd debriefed on both events after they'd happened, of course, but neither one had been particularly eager to discuss it afterwards. That Ray had still been floating on the positive electromagnetheric slime had probably softened the blow somewhat, but they both had been in the place he now found himself. Slowly, as if the motion was painful, he stood up from the desk chair, walked the few paces over to the sofa, and settled himself in the middle. Peter slid from the arm onto the last cushion, and waited, face turned towards Egon expectantly.
"This was closer to Ray's experience than yours, I believe," Egon began. "The Elvenking attempted to convince me to join him willingly. Similarly, he offered me power, as well as the ability to prove my theories to the scientific community at large."
"You told him to go to hell." It wasn't a question; Peter didn't doubt him for an instant.
"Of course. Then he changed tactics, and offered me . . . " Egon's throat went dry, and he fidgeted for a second as he found his voice again. "Physical pleasure."
"He really did try to seduce you, then," Ray murmured.
"Yes." Egon swallowed around the lump in his throat, adam's-apple bobbing. "I confess that he produced something of a - physical reaction."
Peter leaned in slightly. "That doesn't mean you were interested, big guy. That's just friction."
"I know." Shame curled up Egon's spine and threatened to trickle out of his eyes. "I thought I was steeled for the assault. I thought the mental techniques we'd developed would - but they didn't help. When he realized that I wouldn't yield willingly, he just - took me." He shuddered. "Wholly. Completely. My body wasn't mine. My mind - the core of me was intact, but he could read my surface memories like a newspaper." He realized his eyes were shut, and forced them open. "When he tried to hurt you, Peter -"
"He didn't. I ducked, remember?" Peter reached for Egon's shoulder, then visibly thought better of it. "And I wouldn't have blamed it on you, Spengs, any more than you blamed me for almost opening the containment unit."
"I know it's the same thing, Peter, but it doesn't feel that way." Egon brushed one hand across his own chest. "I don't - no matter how complex my life has been, no matter what dangers I've faced, I've never felt - violated like this. I'm not all that attached to this body, most of the time. You've chided me more than once for living in my head." Egon's fingers traced the belt loops of his own uniform. "If it had just been physical, perhaps I could rise above it. But - he was in my mind as well. I don't - I feel unsafe in myself, somehow." He looked back and forth, to the two concerned faces giving him their undivided attention, one round and ruddy and infinitely accepting, the other long and pale and uncharacteristically open.
Peter nodded very slowly. "Is there anything we can do to make you feel safer?"
Egon adjusted his glasses. "You . . . remember what you did to bring me back, to drive the Elvenking out?"
"Yeah," breathed Ray. "I'm sorry about that, Egon, but I didn't know what else to do, and I was pretty sure it would work against him, especially since he'd expressed such distaste for me."
"Ray, you have absolutely nothing to apologize for," Egon interrupted, trying to sound stern. He suspected he'd failed at that. Two long, slender hands reached out, clasping his friends' tightly. "It was absolutely the correct thing to do. It was . . . what I needed." He swallowed again, and the words tumbled from his throat in a rush. "You were what I needed. Both of you. As you are now." He tugged at their hands.
Peter slid across the threadbare cushion towards him, slipping one strong arm around Egon's shoulders, the other hand still tight in Egon's grip. "Are you sure, big guy? I mean, not that I want to try and talk you out of it, but - we've both offered before, and you turned us down. What's changed?" Ray scooted over on the other side and wrapped his free arm around Egon's waist, silent and expectant.
"I didn't think I'd be good for you, Peter," Egon murmured, trying to lean into both of them at once and mostly settling further into the couch. "You had an endless stream of young women throwing themselves at you, and a reputation to maintain. My desires for you had no place in the world you were building, and you only seemed to express any desire for me when you were inebriated, or hurt, or otherwise incapacitated. I . . . mistrust anything that is only true when you're not quite in charge of your senses."
"Egon, with the amount of deflection I do, anything that I only say when I'm out of my head is probably more true than anything I say when I'm sober." The space between them disappeared, and Peter's head was on his left shoulder. "I could only say it drunk because that was when my guard was down, when that reputation I was maintaining was less important than what I really wanted. Not that I'm not into women, but I'm more into you."
"And Ray," Egon continued, embarrassed that he'd made the younger man second again, "I just didn't fully understand what you were saying. I suppose I thought it was all just hero-worship on your part, a sort of Platonic crush. I thought - I'm so sorry, Ray, I thought you'd outgrow it."
Ray chuckled. "It might have been that sort of Platonic crush, Egon, if there were a Platonic bone in my body." He snuggled up to Egon, both arms around him now. "I'm more of an Epicurean." His body was warm and soft under the uniform, a contrast to Peter's sculpted frame. "I'm rather into pleasure in all its forms, in moderation." He raised his head, his chin brushing Egon's right shoulder. "It was pretty much love at first sight with both of you."
"I understand that now." Egon's arms curled around his friends and tried to draw them closer. Ray shifted, and turned to slide his left thigh into Egon's lap; Peter caught on and twined his right leg around Egon's, reaching over and brushing Ray's calf with his other foot.
"So, now what?" Peter was half in Egon's lap, now, too. "I mean, not that I'm pushing for us to do anything in particular." The flush rising in his face made a liar of him, but his voice was still casual.
"Cuddling's nice," murmured Ray from somewhere behind Egon's ear. "I'm in favor of it."
"Indeed," Egon half-whispered. "Just the physical contact with both of you is reassuring." His skin seemed to buzz lightly where Peter and Ray were touching him, as if some trace of the magic from before were still passing between them.
"Should help ground you in your body again," Ray agreed.
Egon turned towards Peter and swept the side of his nose lightly against the brunet's cheek. Somewhere in the back of his mind, his scientific awareness catalogued the signs of growing arousal, both his and his partners'. "I note that skin-to-skin contact seems to be having a greater effect."
Peter's eyebrows rose, and his lips slid into a crooked grin. "You know, we could probably increase the amount of skin involved, if it would help."
"More surface area to . . . experiment with . . . might be pleasant." Egon leaned into Peter and caught his mouth against his in something more than a brush but less than a kiss. Peter shifted and kissed him, hard, open-mouthed. Memories of the last time flooded Egon - Peter's scent, the faint mildew of that old apartment, the feel of Ray's hand on his back.
The purr of a zipper tugged him back into the present as Peter pressed his forehead against Egon's and panted for air. Ray squirmed, and cloth shuffled against cloth, then against skin. A jumpsuit hit the floor as Peter leaned in for another kiss, slower and softer, their lips sliding against each other gently. Egon teased Peter's lips apart with his tongue, nipped at him lightly, felt him sigh as his hands drifted down his sides.
A thicker hand slid between them, catching at Peter's zipper tab and easing it down to his groin. "Thanks, Ray," Peter whispered, as the redhead pulled his uniform from his shoulders and pushed it down his arms. Peter reached up and back, tracing Ray's jawline with one hand. "Damn, you're shameless, aren't you?"
"Yup. Never saw much point in it. Why?" There was a thump as Ray sat at their feet, tugging off Egon's boots, then yanking Peter's jumpsuit the rest of the way off.
"No reason." Peter smirked. "You're just undressing me for someone else, that's all. For another man, more to the point." He shifted his hips to let the collar of the uniform slide under his rump. "Not that I'm complaining, mind." There was a visible bulge in his jeans, now, as he leaned in to tangle his hands in Egon's hair; their mouths met again, sweet and slow.
There was a flurry of movement in Egon's peripheral vision, then Ray slid next to him again, naked. "Would it help if I said I've wanted to do that for years?" he asked, grinning maniacally.
"Switch," Peter murmured, letting go of Egon's mouth with a sigh and pulling himself to his feet.
"Always have been," Ray smiled, leaning in to peck his way down Egon's jaw. Peter swatted him lightly on the behind and muttered "smartass," then finished standing, making sure Egon could see him behind Ray. He winked, and reached into the waistband of his jeans to untuck his t-shirt, peeling the light fabric up and away from his torso slowly. Egon stifled a moan as Ray began working his way down his neck, his lips thick and eager on his skin. Peter took that as encouragement and turned around, looking back over his shoulder as he unbuttoned his jeans and slid them slowly down his legs.
"Peter, are you stripping for him? That's not fair; I can't see," Ray complained, but Egon could feel he was smiling against his skin.
"Oh, okay, if you insist." Peter swept off his boxers in one move and stepped out of them, his pale skin almost glowing in the combination of moonlight and the lab's lamps. He settled back into his place at Egon's left, teasing at the curl of the scientist's ear with his tongue.
Then both their hands were on him, gently pushing the lab coat from his shoulders, unzipping his uniform, unhooking his suspenders, unbuttoning his shirt, his trousers. Peter's hands caressed him, peeled away fabric and cherished the skin beneath. Ray unwrapped him like a birthday present, eagerly tossing the clothing behind them and smiling at what he saw. For a moment, shame bubbled up from somewhere and made Egon want to hide again, but he held it up to the light and it dissolved like a bad dream. Then he was naked, too; they all were, skin against skin, whole and complete.
Well, almost whole. Egon's fingers brushed the bandage at Ray's side. The engineer shook his head. "Don't worry about it. It really is just a scratch; if I'd moved a little faster, he wouldn't even have broken the skin."
Peter left off at Egon's ear. "It looks worse now than it did earlier, Ray. You need to be careful with that." He leaned across Egon's lap, one hand lightly caressing Ray's ribcage, worry and something warmer creasing his brow. Peter edged towards the younger man; Ray eased forwards over Egon's thighs, his hands finding Peter's shoulders and kneading gently.
Peter licked his lips. "No shame, then. For any of us."
"Not unless it's a turn-on for you." Ray's smile was utterly guileless and could have lit city blocks.
Then the two of them were kissing, mouths pressed together, almost devouring each other. Warmth surged through Egon's heart, and somewhere lower. He reached out and ran a hand through their hair, one hand apiece, the left tangling in Peter's unruly locks, the other brushing through Ray's short, soft auburn.
They drew apart, their eyes locked, amber and emerald gazing into each other before turning as one to meet Egon's sapphire. "We," began Ray, "have waited far too long for this." Peter breathed hard, nodding, momentarily speechless for once.
"Agreed," Egon nodded. Peter let go of Ray's shoulders and slid around him; Ray slipped off Egon's lap and onto the floor.
"Ease forward, Spengs," Peter whispered in his ear, and Egon complied as Peter moved behind him. Peter's erection rubbed against him, nestled in the top of the cleft of his buttocks, and Egon groaned. Ray's hands nudged his knees apart.
"Relax, and let us do the work, okay?" Peter's mouth dropped from his ear to his shoulder, tonguing him slowly, as his hands explored the flatness of Egon's belly. Ray shifted from kneeling to sitting between Egon's feet, and one broad, steady hand curled around his erection.
"Ah!" Egon arched his back. It had been a very long time since any hand other than his own had ventured there. Peter held him down. "Easy, big guy. Tell us what feels good, and we'll keep doing it. We'll go slow."
"Everything you're doing feels wonderful," Egon gasped out as Ray's grip on him eased slightly and began moving. Peter kept stroking, his hands following the trail of curling blond up Egon's chest.
"Good," Ray smiled from between his knees. Ray's other hand cradled his testicles gently, the warmth of his palm tricking up through Egon's groin. "Faster, slower, just right?"
"A little faster," Egon answered, his cheeks beginning to flush.
"Lean back a bit," Peter murmured, and twisted forward enough to kiss Egon again, awkward though the angle was. Egon's tongue was teasing Peter's out again when he felt Ray's grip change, and then -
- oh, god -
That was Ray's mouth on him, his mouth and his tongue and his insatiable appetite working down his erection. Egon gasped under Peter's lips; his hands dug for purchase on the sofa cushions, and his hips bucked out of pure instinct.
Peter laughed into his mouth. "Easy, I said. Don't choke him."
" 'Mm fine," Ray mumbled around a mouthful of Egon. He twirled his tongue and added a bit of suction; Egon's toes curled, the joints popping against the wooden floor.
"God, Ray, you look gorgeous doing that." Peter's breathing sped up; he rocked his hips gently against Egon's backside as he kissed his way from Egon's mouth to his collarbone.
"Mmm," Ray answered, too engaged in Egon's cock to answer properly, but his eyes sparkled. The hand not gently massaging Egon's balls curled around the last couple of inches that wouldn't fit in Ray's mouth, pumping gently in rhythm with his jaw and tongue. Something began to build, like charge on a capacitor, at the base of Egon's spine.
"More," he whimpered. Peter smiled against his shoulder, and his hands found Egon's nipples, brushing them gently as Ray sucked at him below. Egon closed his eyes and clenched his hands tighter against the sofa.
"You're about to come, aren't you, Egon?" Peter's voice was low and soft, and his breath was warm and damp, tickling his ear. "I can feel you breathing faster, the tension in your thighs. Ray looks so good there between your legs, I bet he feels good, too, doesn't he?"
"Yes," Egon moaned, letting his head fall back against Peter's broad shoulder, four hands and two mouths working him towards a release he'd been denying himself for years.
"So beautiful, both of you." Peter kissed him again. "Egon, I want to see you come, I want to see what those brilliant blue eyes of yours do when you come, I wanna feel you tense up in my arms, god, please, I wanna see you coming, I wanna hear you - "
"Yes, Peter, hold me, I'm close -"
" - hear you call out, Egon, please, come for me, come on - "
"Mmph," Ray added enthusiastically, his tongue redoubling its efforts.
Egon inhaled sharply and then groaned like a tree about to fall. His back tensed, his hands clenched, and the world seemed to contract to a single point in space-time, somewhere around his second chakra, then explode again outward in a torrent of heat and light, the universe recreating itself in that first contraction.
Then he was present in his body in a way he rarely was, aware of every muscle shaking as his body throbbed, of his own voice howling like an animal, of Ray's hungry mouth still on him, swallowing every drop of semen. Peter's hands were on him, too, his chest, his belly, his cock. That was Real. Ray's hands, his mouth, that was Real. This was the deep magic, the spell written in human flesh and on human hearts that the ghosts from elsewhere never understood.
Egon hadn't understood before, either, though it had saved his life too many times to count. Now, as the ancient rhythm sang in him, he knew it in fullness.
He opened his eyes and fell into Peter's. Peter face blazed with desire and rapt fascination. "So beautiful, god, Egon, I wanna watch you come like that over and over."
"I dearly hope that you will have the opportunity." Egon kissed him gently. "Thank you, Peter. Thank you, Ray."
"My pleasure," Ray answered emphatically, sitting back and wiping his chin with Peter's t-shirt. One hand still played with Egon's softening phallus, working him through the aftershocks.
"Get back up here," Peter ordered; Ray grinned and obeyed, clambering onto the sofa. "After that, I imagine you're pretty close yourself."
"Could be, yeah." Ray's cock was shorter, but thick and uncut. Egon reached over and curled one hand around it, rubbing his thumb against the soft spot just below the head; Ray arched his spine and mewled like a cat.
Peter slithered around Egon until Ray was between them and rubbed his own cock against the roundness of his hip. "Yeah, there we go. C'mon, Ray, I wanna see you come, too." Peter's hand joined Egon's on Ray's erection, their fingers sliding past each other.
"Keep talking, keep touching. You too, Egon, talk to me." Ray's eyes were closed, but he reached out to stroke Peter's cock.
Egon cleared his throat. He didn't think of himself as good at talking at the best of times, but if it was what Ray wanted, he'd try. "You have a very talented tongue, Ray."
"Glad you liked it." Ray beamed, his head tilted back against the sofa; Peter moved his off hand between Ray's heavy thighs.
"Very much." Egon gently pinched Ray's nipple between his thumb and forefinger; Ray shivered deliciously and gave an encouraging moan. "You're lovely, Ray. You look good enough to eat."
"You're hot, is more like it," Peter broke in, picking up his pace on Ray's cock; Egon followed suit. "Delicious. I can't believe I never realized how shameless you were before, Ray. So naughty. How long have you been thinking all these tasty, dirty thoughts about us again?"
Ray moaned and shuddered before he found his voice again. "Since I met you, Peter. Oh, god, Peter, when I realized how much you wanted Egon, I'd imagine the two of you making love together when I jacked off. I'd never come so hard in my life before." A frisson of fresh desire skittered down Egon's spine.
"And now, here we are," Peter added, his voice breathy. "Both of us, here, with you. Egon, c'mere." He leaned over and kissed Egon again, mouths open, tongues twining, playing out their own need but also putting on a show for their younger partner.
"Oh, gods," groaned Ray, his fingers tracing their jaws as they kissed each other, his eyes opened to amber slits below heavy lids. "So gorgeous, so hot, oh, oh, Peter, Egon, please."
"Let me feel you, Ray," Peter urged, and Ray clutched at him as he moaned, panted, and spurted under their twined hands. Egon tightened his grip on Ray's cock and felt him pulsing; something just under his heart vibrated with every throb, echoes of his own orgasm and something else he couldn't name yet. Ray gasped softly and went limp between them, every muscle relaxed.
"Ahh, Peter, Egon, thank you, thank you," Ray panted, sheer ecstasy painted in every line of his face; he trembled laxly as some late aftershock rolled through him.
"No problem." Peter sat back with a grin, eyes glistening, one hand trailing stickily from Ray's penis to his own.
Egon rolled over, trying not to jostle Ray. Balancing the three of them on the sofa was more difficult than he'd imagined. "Peter, would you come here, please? I want to feel your body on mine."
"If you say so," Peter replied, grinning madly as he and Ray switched places. He climbed into Egon's lap, his erection brushing against Egon's half-hardness. "I mean, whatever the post-possession syndrome patient wants."
"That would be all of us, Peter," Ray reminded him, still bonelessly draped next to them. He curled up against Egon's left side and cupped one hand against Peter's ass, groping him lightly.
"Exactly. Whatever we all want." Peter rolled his hips slowly, rhythmically, against Egon's skin, slippery and slightly sticky from sweat, saliva, Ray's come and the traces of Egon's own, and the strands of pre-come trailing from Peter's dick. Egon could feel himself hardening again. Well, it had been a very long time.
Peter noticed. "Up for another round, big guy?" His fingers trailed between them, stroking their cocks together. "Maybe I should ask you to fuck me instead."
"I'd love to, Peter, but I don't think I have the energy for it right now," Egon apologized. He rocked in time with Peter's movements, savoring the feel of them sliding together. Ray hummed contentedly and undulated against them, his own cock still soft.
"That's fine. We've got all the time in the world, now." Peter's legs tightened around Egon's hips, and Egon realized that Peter was holding back; the effort was making him tremble.
"Harder, Peter," he demanded, his voice an earthy rumble.
"Too much harder, and I'll pop before you're ready again," Peter protested.
"As you said, we have plenty of time for that. I want to feel you coming against me," Egon said, his fingers pressing tightly into the small of Peter's back.
"I want to watch you come, too, Peter," Ray added, reaching between Peter's legs and stroking his balls.
Peter inhaled sharply. "If you want it, you got it." He closed his eyes, leaned his head against Egon's shoulder, and picked up his pace. His skin slid against Egon's, hot and wet. Egon closed his eyes, too, and focused his attention on the physical sensations, the slick friction against his renewed erection, Ray's hands finding new places to touch on both of them.
"Oh, god, Ray, do that again. Egon, I'm almost there, I'm so close, fuck, so close, can you feel me?" Peter's hips stuttered, and he thrust himself against Egon with a fierce need that struck hot sparks in Egon's groin.
"Yes, I can feel you, Peter, harder, please." Egon felt his calf muscles beginning to shake with the effort of his own thrusts.
Peter convulsed in his arms. "Ah - coming - god!" he hissed through clenched teeth, and vibrated like a plucked string as warm wetness blossomed between them. "Aah," he gasped again, his hips still grinding against Egon as Ray stroked his back.
Egon held Peter tight and let the last thrust drive him over the edge again. He groaned wordlessly as he came, his cock throbbing against Peter's in the same rhythm. Someone keened in pleasure; that was too high to be his voice - it must be Ray's.
"Oh," sighed someone else. That might have been him. Egon drifted back to normal consciousness and opened his eyes. They were a tangle of arms and legs and musk, and they'd managed to knock one of the sofa cushions onto the floor in their ardor. Their clothes were all over the lab floor. He smiled. It was a mess, but it was a mess for very good reasons.
"Mmm." Peter slid out of Egon's lap. "So now what happens?"
"Shower," answered Ray, matter-of-factly.
"I suspect that Peter is asking a more broad question about how this finally-acknowledged connection is going to affect the rest of our lives," Egon offered.
Peter nodded. "Yeah. I mean, this is great, but it's gonna be a hell of a thing to break to Winston."
"If he didn't have a clue after the ritual, he's less perceptive than I think he is," Ray pointed out. "Assuming we didn't just wake him up, that is. He probably already knows."
"Knowing and being-okay-with are two different things," Peter replied. "And what about Janine?"
"If she wants to join us, I certainly wouldn't mind," Ray grinned.
Egon sat up and stared at him, eyes wide.
Ray looked concerned. "What?" He spread his hands in apology. "I thought you liked her, too."
"I do. I never pursued anything with her because I thought it wasn't fair to her for my heart to be with Peter instead of wholly with her." Egon's lips pursed in thought. "Simply explaining the situation to her in total and allowing her to make an informed choice about it seemed cruel, but . . . " He trailed off, looking at Peter expectantly.
Peter grinned. "Hey, I've been fantasizing about her since she came to work here. I don't think she's all that attracted to me, but if she's cool with us being a thing and still wants to be a part of it, I won't complain."
"It will be difficult to explain." Egon's eyebrows knotted.
"Let's deal with Winston first," Ray agreed. "Shower before that, though."
"Shower and sleep first," Peter yawned. "Suddenly the day's catching up with me."
A burble of green boiled through the floor in front of the sofa. "Guys bwack!" Slimer jabbered happily.
"Uh, yeah, Spud, we made it back in a couple of hours ago." Peter tried to keep his voice level.
Slimer spun around. "Magic? Wray doing magic up hewre?" He sniffed. "Why guys nayked?"
"We'll explain later. Winston's asleep, Slimer; don't wake him up," Ray shushed.
"Ooo, sowry." Slimer dashed off through the lab door towards the bunkroom.
"Well, there went any chance we had of Janine not finding out; we kind of have to tell her now," mused Peter.
Egon chuckled. "I can't imagine that she'd believe whatever Slimer thinks he just saw."
Ray added a giggle. "I don't think Slimer understood, anyway. I'm not sure he's equipped to."
"At least he didn't slime us," Peter sighed. "We're enough of a mess as it is."
"Which of us gets to shower first?" Egon asked.
"Think we could all fit in there?" Ray attempted to look innocent, but his eyes were low and sly, and mischief lurked at the corners of his mouth. The three stumbled from the sofa into the bathroom, stifling laughter, as the first purple of dawn twilight spread across the sky.
Author: omorka
Fandom: The Real Ghostbusters
Pairing/character: Ensemble, but focal Peter/Egon/Ray
Rating: FRAO/NC-17
Word Count: ~25000 total
Kink: Threesome, hurt/comfort, possession
Notes/Warnings: Slash, M/M/M threesome, oral sex, frottage, a non-con-ish moment, minor transformation/body horror, occult content. Thanks to my beta, peoriapeoria, who took this on at the last minute; all remaining typos and continuity errors are mine, not hers. Standard disclaimer: I don't own the boys.
Summary: The 'Busters respond to an out-of-town call - unusual phantoms have invaded a wealthy man's private mansion. In dealing with the problem, Peter, Egon, and Ray call up a few unresolved issues from their own pasts.
Artist: ms_ellery, who did a lovely cover and wallpapers, also on short notice - huzzah!
Part 1 | Part 2
"Depends. How okay are you really, and how tired are you?" Peter glanced around. There wasn't a good place to hold a conversation down here.
"I'm fine; this really was just a scratch. It just stings, now. Emotionally, I'm a little churned up, but I bet you're worse." Ray rubbed at his eyes. "And I'm tired, but I'm not sleepy. Doing magic wires me up more than it tires me out."
"Yeah, I'll believe that." Peter tried to do an honest self-evaluation; looking into parts of himself that he usually kept bottled up was always difficult, but the situation sort of demanded it. "I got a couple of hours of sleep on the way, so I think I'm okay there. I'm not sure I'm ready to really discuss the emotional situation, but the longer we put it off the harder it's going to be to talk about." He shifted uncomfortably; his feet still hurt. "If you're not up for it, we can wait, but -"
"No, no, I think we should do it now before one of us chickens out again." That was unusually harsh language from Ray, but he didn't look angry, just weary.
"Kitchen?" offered Peter. If they were going to need to feed Ray anyway, it was the least conspicuous place.
"Sure, but let me leave a note for Janine first. If we're going to be up until dawn hashing all this out, she needs to know to let us sleep in unless there's an emergency." Ray climbed back to the first floor, Peter following more slowly. He wasn't looking forward to this; even with his best friends, it was difficult dredging through emotional silt.
Ray was already scribbling on one of Janine's notepads as Peter dragged himself off the basement stairs. Slimer had fallen asleep in his office instead of in the bunkroom, he noticed; the little green ghost was floating aimlessly near the door to the downstairs washroom and burbling. He wondered, not for the first time, why a Class Five would need to sleep at all. Maybe it was just a habit he'd picked up from watching the guests at the hotel?
They stopped at the lockers to remove their boots, and tiptoed up the stairs. Faint light spilled down the spiral staircase from the direction of the lab; the bunkroom was dark. They crept into the kitchen in their stocking feet, and Ray poked around in the cabinet while Peter poured a glass of orange juice for himself and a soda for Ray.
"Are you raiding Egon's stash again?" Ray asked, as he sat down with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, neatly sliced into two triangles.
"I think he can spare a cola or two after tonight." Peter pushed his hair back and settled both elbows on the table. "Besides, he won't notice unless we run out." He poked through the bowl of fruit on the table; Slimer had eaten all the bananas again. Peter picked up an apple and munched on it, more to give himself an excuse not to talk for a moment than because he was really hungry.
"Fair enough." Ray spent the next few minutes stuffing the sandwich in his mouth while Peter finished the apple, trailing his fingers through the drops of condensation from the two glasses on the table. The silence grew more uncomfortable by the second.
Finally, Ray swallowed the last bite of honey wheat and grape jelly and washed it down. "Okay. So. You and Egon. Me and Egon. Uh, you and me."
"Yeah." Peter gazed out the window at the streetlights. Saying it had been easy when it had been necessary, when it might have been his last chance to say it to Egon. Here, in safe (well, as safe as their lives ever got) and familiar circumstances, it suddenly seemed impossible and ridiculous again.
Ray cleared his throat. "How much did we actually end up explaining . . . then?"
"I'm not sure. I was amazingly smashed at the time. Even for me, even for then." Peter rubbed his eyes. He'd been a few weeks from graduating from Columbia; Egon was already in grad school over at MIT, but he still visited most weekends. How they'd convinced Egon to go to the fraternity party, he still wasn't sure. He remembered Egon being hit on by a particularly persistent Barnard girl, and realizing that his jealousy wasn't going in the appropriate direction. They'd left before Egon totally freaked out, stumbling back to his and Ray's off-campus apartment; they'd veered across campus, none of them able to walk straight, hanging off of each other.
They'd piled into the apartment, laughing at one of Egon's physics jokes; it must have been a fairly simple one, at least by Egon's standards, for Peter to have gotten it. Those blue eyes flashing, those pale cheeks rosy with drink and merriment and the last chill of spring in the air - and suddenly they were kissing, and not like brothers, either, and Ray's hands were on their backs and he was egging them on . . . .
Egon had stopped it before it went too far, but it had obviously been an effort. They'd talked, Peter knew, but he couldn't remember what about, exactly. Whether he'd explained how he felt. Whether Egon had explained anything. Whether Ray had said much at all. When they all woke up in the morning - Egon on the fold-out cot, Ray on the sofa, Peter sideways in his own bed - none of them had had the stones to say any more.
He and Egon had had two near-misses before that, too. Once, a few months after they'd first met, they'd been hunting for a particular book in the library stacks that had gotten mis-shelved, and Peter had tumbled off the ladder while goofing around. He'd expected Egon to scold him; instead, he scooped Peter up in his arms like a child, and carried him over to a battered couch by a study carrell. Peter hadn't let go, and dragged Egon onto the couch with him; the older student had let him, had held him close until the pain subsided enough for him to walk, and Peter had kissed him then, too - a chaste peck on the cheek, but it had promised so much more. Egon had blushed, and asked him how his ankle was doing.
Later, just before Egon graduated, Peter had gotten very, very drunk - why did alcohol figure so prominently in these stories? - and broken into Egon's apartment to talk to him. He'd been determined to tell him how he really felt, and he thought he had - but he'd woken up on Egon's couch, not in his bed, and Egon had gently promised him that he'd forgotten everything Peter had said the night before. He'd chickened out again and failed to press the issue.
Then there was the incident with the drill . . . but even then, Peter hadn't managed to say exactly what it was he was afraid of. Not just of losing a bosom buddy; of losing someone he - oh, there it was, there was the word he was trying too hard to avoid - loved.
And here was Ray, who had always looked at him and at Egon with the same hero-worship in his eyes. They were the first two people to ever take him seriously after his parents had died. Hell, they were the only two people to take him seriously, until some miracle gave them Janine and Winston. It had taken a long time for Peter to realize that Ray's hero-worship wasn't just Platonic. He still wasn't sure how he felt about that.
Well, okay, it flattered his ego, sure. Ray believed in him, in a way that even Egon didn't always. With Egon, he was always a little scared that something he did, something he said, would lead Egon to the logical conclusion that Peter wasn't worth bothering with after all. He knew better, but something deep in him still felt that way. Ray, though - Ray's love was unconditional. Peter could do and say anything he wanted to Ray, and too often did, and Ray would still forgive him, would still care just as much.
But - being the object of Ray's libido? Was he okay with that?
Did it matter?
It was real, whether he was okay with it or not. He remembered the warmth of Ray's hand on his back, the light in his eyes and the heat in his face, as Peter and Egon had come up for air that night.
"Peter?" Ray's voice had a hint of a quaver. "What are you thinking?"
"I was trying to remember." That hallway, the taste of Egon's mouth, the smell of Ray's breath, long fingers and stouter ones holding him between them. "What did you say?" Egon's hands were the ones he'd yearned for. That was the part of the memory he'd played over and over. But Ray's touch had been there, too, warm and supporting and all too easy to leave in the background.
It had felt . . . good. Not world-shattering, like the feel of Egon's lips had been. But still good.
"I don't remember everything." Ray's eyes followed the streaks where the droplets on the table had dried. "I know I told you both that I loved you. I think I said that I thought you'd be happy together, whether that future included me or not." He folded his hands. "That's still true. I know you love each other, even if neither of you feels like you can do anything about it. I don't know if either of you love me. I don't think you ever said."
"I do. I just don't know if I love you like that." Another memory of long, thin hands at his ribs and broad, strong ones on his back. Something stirred in the pit of his stomach. "I don't - Ray, you'd let me use you, let me hurt you if I wanted."
"If you needed." Ray's voice was soft, accepting.
"How can I risk that?" Peter pleaded. "I haven't had a relationship last more than four months in my life, and that was Dana."
Ray shook his head. "Peter, that's not true. You have two relationships that have lasted for a dozen years." He glanced upwards, towards the lab. "You just haven't slept with either of us yet."
Something about that 'yet' made Peter feel warmer. Still, he protested, "If I tried it with Egon and it didn't work out, what would happen to the business?" His voice lowered slightly. "If I tried it with you and it didn't work out, what would it do to you?" The thought of Ray in that sort of pain curled into a cold ball in his gut.
"Peter, I don't break so easily." Ray laid one hand on Peter's arm. The touch was solid, steady, warm; it felt . . . good. "Can't you trust me to want what I want, for myself?"
"I - " Peter had trouble trusting anyone, for anything. But Ray - yes, he could trust him to know what he wanted. Maybe not what he needed, though. He looked up and met Ray's gaze, steady amber gleaming in the kitchen's dingy light. "Yeah. I can."
"Peter." For the first time in a very long time, an old insecurity flickered across Ray's face. Peter stopped himself from flinching; the last time he'd seen that was when the EPA had threatened to sue them for the containment breach, when some bureaucrat had taken Peck's word over theirs despite the evidence of the eyes of every person on the island. That was Ray not trusting himself. Ray closed his eyes and searched the insides of his eyelids for the right words.
When he opened them again, he looked older, somehow. "Peter, I know you know what it feels like to want Egon. I don't think you understand how much he wants you, too. I've seen him looking at you when you weren't watching. There's - electricity, between the two of you. And I'm drawn to it like a magnet."
He swallowed, then took a sip from the soda. "If I don't get to be part of that, then that's okay. I've survived by just being near it for a long time, and I'll survive for a lot longer. But - I look a lot more innocent than I am, Peter. Yeah, I'm your first and biggest fan, and Egon's, too. But it's always been more than that, Peter." He put his hands out, palms up and open. "I've been burning for you, Peter, for both of you, since I met you." It was Peter's turn to swallow; something about so blunt a confession chipped away at his resistance. Ray finished, "I love you, and I love Egon. And I love you and Egon together, all the potential of the two of you."
Ray turned his palms back to the table and half-stood. "I wouldn't dream of taking Egon away from you, Peter, even if somehow he wants me, too. I won't, and I can't. If you two are, then you are. The question is, are we two plus one, and that's just the way it is, or can we be three?" He swallowed again, hard. "I'll be fine either way. I just need to know the math."
Something smoldered in the depths of Ray's eyes - need, and a rawness that Peter recognized in himself. He felt his body responding. Perhaps it was wiser than he was. He hoped so.
Peter pushed himself to his feet and edged around the table. "C'mere, Ray." The younger Ghostbuster pulled himself out of his chair and threw himself at Peter with a tiny cry, his arms curling around him hard enough to knock the wind out of a bear.
It felt comfortable. It felt like coming home.
Something warm and crackling unfolded in Peter's chest; not the caged lightning that he felt when he touched Egon - more like a campfire, a promise of safety and warmth in the middle of something dark and wild. He held Ray tighter, and wondered how he could have been so blind to what had been right in front of him.
"Three, Ray." Peter brushed his cheek against Ray's hair, somehow both bristly and soft. "The three of us, or none at all."
"Oh, Peter," Ray sighed, almost sobbed, against the taller man's chest.
They stayed like that for a long minute, arms around each other, just taking comfort in the other's strength. Finally, Ray drew a deep breath and looked up. "Do we talk to Egon now or later?"
Peter carefully let go of Ray and stuck his head out of the kitchen doorway. Light still filtered dimly down from the lab. "The longer we wait, the worse the wall he's going to build around it. Let's see if we can at least lose him a few bricks."
---
The screwdriver in Egon's fingers spun aimlessly against a connection already tightened. He sighed and brushed the drooping ends of the pipecurl out of his eyes. His body was tired, almost exhausted, but he knew perfectly well what would happen if he tried to sleep in his current condition. Jolting his friends awake with his nightmares seemed both undignified and ungrateful; staring at the ceiling for hours with his mind racing would leave him worse off than the nightmares, although the others might sleep better.
Light, familiar footsteps fell behind him; the lab door sighed gently on its hinges as two bodies edged through the doorway. He knew without looking who they were, and he suspected he knew why they were here. His cheeks burned with sudden embarrassment, and he twirled the screwdriver again, trying to look busy.
As if that would put off Peter. "Hey, Egon," the warm tenor voice crooned behind him, "Ray and I wanted to check in with you. How are you doing?"
For a moment, Egon considered outright lying, but Peter almost always saw right through that, and lying to Ray seemed almost cruel. He set the screwdriver down carefully. "Physically, I'm fine, Peter. There don't seem to be any lingering aftereffects of my temporary transformation." That wasn't what Peter was asking about, and he knew that. He took another deep breath before continuing, "Mentally, I haven't noticed any significant impairment, but my ability to concentrate on one thing at a time has been somewhat disrupted."
Peter nodded slowly. "I suspect getting some sleep will help with that."
"You are probably correct." Egon reached over and switched off the soldering iron. The best possible outcome at this point would be Peter's ordering him to bed. Suddenly, staring at the ceiling didn't seem like such a bad idea.
He felt rather than saw his friends exchange a glance. "He's gone full introvert on us, Ray," Peter commented matter-of-factly. "It's worse than I thought."
Egon straightened the tools on the lab bench and turned to face them. "I'm sorry, Peter," he said, not quite looking at either of them. "It isn't my intention to shut you out."
"Then why'd you run away from us down there?" Ray asked, the accusation in his voice gentled by his obvious concern.
Egon glanced away, his eyes catching the streetlights from the windows. "I . . . wanted to get as far away from the Elvenking as possible. It wasn't about you."
Peter raised his eyebrows. "Really?"
Egon sank into the rolling desk chair, his knees askew. "Yes, Peter. And since you will stand there and keep asking until I tell you, I am feeling deeply inadequate for not being strong enough to keep him from . . . possessing me."
Peter and Ray exchanged a second silent glance that passed several meanings back and forth. Peter, at least, seemed surprised. Egon closed his eyes and leaned forwards, elbows on his knees, hands at his temples. "I'm supposed to have a first-rate intellect, and I can't even keep a dead Unseelie out of my own mind and body."
Two hands touched his back gently, one broad and steady, the other strong and reassuring. "Spengs," Peter murmured softly, "do you really think I'm that weak-minded for being Watt's host that one time?"
"Or worse, my being Vigo's," Ray added from the other side.
"No, of course not." Egon sat up and glared at each of them in turn. "Watt was a Class Seven near the top of its scale, a major demon with an army behind it. No mortal could have stood up to that sort of a psychic assault. And Vigo was one of the most powerful known sorcerers when he was alive."
"And this guy was apparently Unseelie royalty when he was alive, and a sorcerer to boot," chided Peter. "Who knows how old he was? I'll bet he was ancient when Vigo was in whatever they used for diapers back in the Dark Ages."
Egon started to protest, and then realized that anything he said would require a logical inconsistency. His jaw worked silently for a moment. "You don't think I've demonstrated a fatal weakness?"
"Only if you think we have, too," Ray shrugged. "When a spirit that buff decides they want your body, there's not a whole lot you can do."
"No matter how hard you fight it," Peter said in what was close to a whisper.
"But you expected me to be able to," Egon objected. "You kept urging me to fight him."
"I hoped." Peter's gaze turned downwards. "I figured if anyone could, it would be you, Spengs. And . . . I know when I was fighting, even if it wasn't getting me my body back, it was distracting Watt. I think it helped, even if it wasn't enough on its own. Same with the Fairy Fuhrer - he had his hands full dealing with you; he couldn't deal with that and Ray's spell, too."
Egon's eyes unfocused. "What did it . . . feel like, for you?"
Peter blinked slowly. "You mean, when Watt took up residence in my skull?" He waited as Egon nodded. "Damn crappy." Ray gave him a warning look, and he sighed and perched on the arm of the old ragged sofa. "There was almost no warning. She grabbed me physically, and then she wasn't physical anymore, and then I wasn't me anymore, I was overwhelmed and thrown into a corner of myself. She had my body, she had my memories, and she damn near had my mind. It took me until she got to the basement to get my, I guess it was my soul, together enough to even try to fight back." His gaze fell to his feet as his voice grew tighter. "And then I lost. I tried, and she beat me back so thoroughly I almost couldn't think anymore." He shifted his weight. "I don't want to say that I know what it feels like to be raped, to have your body used that way violently by a stranger, but everything I've read about that and everything I remember from this makes it sound like the experiences aren't completely different, either." His tone softened again at the very end, and Egon felt Peter's eyes on him, offering empathy that he wasn't yet prepared to take.
"If Watt was stranger rape, then Vigo was date rape with roofies," broke in Ray, and his voice was uncharacteristically bitter. "He'd softened me up first, gotten a little bit into my head, made me miss things at the museum and then drive like a suicidal maniac later."
"Not that we could tell the difference," Peter joked, but it was a reflex; his eyes were serious and concerned.
"He didn't really want me, you know. I was Plan C, after Oscar and Janosz. I didn't know that until afterwards, though. There was a certain amount of - seduction, I guess. He tempted me, offered to share his occult knowledge and power with me if I took him willingly. I turned him down - it wasn't really all that tempting. I'm not sure I could handle more than I already know if it was all at once like that." Ray wandered over to the other end of the sofa and sat down heavily. "And then he forced his way into my head and stuffed me into my own subconscious. Peter, at least you could get it together to struggle; I don't think I ever did."
"You didn't have time," Egon protested. "Winston realized what had happened instantly; by the time you might have recovered enough from the shock to fight him off, you were coated in positive mood slime and he was forced to vacate you."
"True," Ray agreed warily, "but the point here is that I didn't realize what was going on in time, even in the early stages before he invaded my body and mind."
Egon looked carefully at each of them. They'd debriefed on both events after they'd happened, of course, but neither one had been particularly eager to discuss it afterwards. That Ray had still been floating on the positive electromagnetheric slime had probably softened the blow somewhat, but they both had been in the place he now found himself. Slowly, as if the motion was painful, he stood up from the desk chair, walked the few paces over to the sofa, and settled himself in the middle. Peter slid from the arm onto the last cushion, and waited, face turned towards Egon expectantly.
"This was closer to Ray's experience than yours, I believe," Egon began. "The Elvenking attempted to convince me to join him willingly. Similarly, he offered me power, as well as the ability to prove my theories to the scientific community at large."
"You told him to go to hell." It wasn't a question; Peter didn't doubt him for an instant.
"Of course. Then he changed tactics, and offered me . . . " Egon's throat went dry, and he fidgeted for a second as he found his voice again. "Physical pleasure."
"He really did try to seduce you, then," Ray murmured.
"Yes." Egon swallowed around the lump in his throat, adam's-apple bobbing. "I confess that he produced something of a - physical reaction."
Peter leaned in slightly. "That doesn't mean you were interested, big guy. That's just friction."
"I know." Shame curled up Egon's spine and threatened to trickle out of his eyes. "I thought I was steeled for the assault. I thought the mental techniques we'd developed would - but they didn't help. When he realized that I wouldn't yield willingly, he just - took me." He shuddered. "Wholly. Completely. My body wasn't mine. My mind - the core of me was intact, but he could read my surface memories like a newspaper." He realized his eyes were shut, and forced them open. "When he tried to hurt you, Peter -"
"He didn't. I ducked, remember?" Peter reached for Egon's shoulder, then visibly thought better of it. "And I wouldn't have blamed it on you, Spengs, any more than you blamed me for almost opening the containment unit."
"I know it's the same thing, Peter, but it doesn't feel that way." Egon brushed one hand across his own chest. "I don't - no matter how complex my life has been, no matter what dangers I've faced, I've never felt - violated like this. I'm not all that attached to this body, most of the time. You've chided me more than once for living in my head." Egon's fingers traced the belt loops of his own uniform. "If it had just been physical, perhaps I could rise above it. But - he was in my mind as well. I don't - I feel unsafe in myself, somehow." He looked back and forth, to the two concerned faces giving him their undivided attention, one round and ruddy and infinitely accepting, the other long and pale and uncharacteristically open.
Peter nodded very slowly. "Is there anything we can do to make you feel safer?"
Egon adjusted his glasses. "You . . . remember what you did to bring me back, to drive the Elvenking out?"
"Yeah," breathed Ray. "I'm sorry about that, Egon, but I didn't know what else to do, and I was pretty sure it would work against him, especially since he'd expressed such distaste for me."
"Ray, you have absolutely nothing to apologize for," Egon interrupted, trying to sound stern. He suspected he'd failed at that. Two long, slender hands reached out, clasping his friends' tightly. "It was absolutely the correct thing to do. It was . . . what I needed." He swallowed again, and the words tumbled from his throat in a rush. "You were what I needed. Both of you. As you are now." He tugged at their hands.
Peter slid across the threadbare cushion towards him, slipping one strong arm around Egon's shoulders, the other hand still tight in Egon's grip. "Are you sure, big guy? I mean, not that I want to try and talk you out of it, but - we've both offered before, and you turned us down. What's changed?" Ray scooted over on the other side and wrapped his free arm around Egon's waist, silent and expectant.
"I didn't think I'd be good for you, Peter," Egon murmured, trying to lean into both of them at once and mostly settling further into the couch. "You had an endless stream of young women throwing themselves at you, and a reputation to maintain. My desires for you had no place in the world you were building, and you only seemed to express any desire for me when you were inebriated, or hurt, or otherwise incapacitated. I . . . mistrust anything that is only true when you're not quite in charge of your senses."
"Egon, with the amount of deflection I do, anything that I only say when I'm out of my head is probably more true than anything I say when I'm sober." The space between them disappeared, and Peter's head was on his left shoulder. "I could only say it drunk because that was when my guard was down, when that reputation I was maintaining was less important than what I really wanted. Not that I'm not into women, but I'm more into you."
"And Ray," Egon continued, embarrassed that he'd made the younger man second again, "I just didn't fully understand what you were saying. I suppose I thought it was all just hero-worship on your part, a sort of Platonic crush. I thought - I'm so sorry, Ray, I thought you'd outgrow it."
Ray chuckled. "It might have been that sort of Platonic crush, Egon, if there were a Platonic bone in my body." He snuggled up to Egon, both arms around him now. "I'm more of an Epicurean." His body was warm and soft under the uniform, a contrast to Peter's sculpted frame. "I'm rather into pleasure in all its forms, in moderation." He raised his head, his chin brushing Egon's right shoulder. "It was pretty much love at first sight with both of you."
"I understand that now." Egon's arms curled around his friends and tried to draw them closer. Ray shifted, and turned to slide his left thigh into Egon's lap; Peter caught on and twined his right leg around Egon's, reaching over and brushing Ray's calf with his other foot.
"So, now what?" Peter was half in Egon's lap, now, too. "I mean, not that I'm pushing for us to do anything in particular." The flush rising in his face made a liar of him, but his voice was still casual.
"Cuddling's nice," murmured Ray from somewhere behind Egon's ear. "I'm in favor of it."
"Indeed," Egon half-whispered. "Just the physical contact with both of you is reassuring." His skin seemed to buzz lightly where Peter and Ray were touching him, as if some trace of the magic from before were still passing between them.
"Should help ground you in your body again," Ray agreed.
Egon turned towards Peter and swept the side of his nose lightly against the brunet's cheek. Somewhere in the back of his mind, his scientific awareness catalogued the signs of growing arousal, both his and his partners'. "I note that skin-to-skin contact seems to be having a greater effect."
Peter's eyebrows rose, and his lips slid into a crooked grin. "You know, we could probably increase the amount of skin involved, if it would help."
"More surface area to . . . experiment with . . . might be pleasant." Egon leaned into Peter and caught his mouth against his in something more than a brush but less than a kiss. Peter shifted and kissed him, hard, open-mouthed. Memories of the last time flooded Egon - Peter's scent, the faint mildew of that old apartment, the feel of Ray's hand on his back.
The purr of a zipper tugged him back into the present as Peter pressed his forehead against Egon's and panted for air. Ray squirmed, and cloth shuffled against cloth, then against skin. A jumpsuit hit the floor as Peter leaned in for another kiss, slower and softer, their lips sliding against each other gently. Egon teased Peter's lips apart with his tongue, nipped at him lightly, felt him sigh as his hands drifted down his sides.
A thicker hand slid between them, catching at Peter's zipper tab and easing it down to his groin. "Thanks, Ray," Peter whispered, as the redhead pulled his uniform from his shoulders and pushed it down his arms. Peter reached up and back, tracing Ray's jawline with one hand. "Damn, you're shameless, aren't you?"
"Yup. Never saw much point in it. Why?" There was a thump as Ray sat at their feet, tugging off Egon's boots, then yanking Peter's jumpsuit the rest of the way off.
"No reason." Peter smirked. "You're just undressing me for someone else, that's all. For another man, more to the point." He shifted his hips to let the collar of the uniform slide under his rump. "Not that I'm complaining, mind." There was a visible bulge in his jeans, now, as he leaned in to tangle his hands in Egon's hair; their mouths met again, sweet and slow.
There was a flurry of movement in Egon's peripheral vision, then Ray slid next to him again, naked. "Would it help if I said I've wanted to do that for years?" he asked, grinning maniacally.
"Switch," Peter murmured, letting go of Egon's mouth with a sigh and pulling himself to his feet.
"Always have been," Ray smiled, leaning in to peck his way down Egon's jaw. Peter swatted him lightly on the behind and muttered "smartass," then finished standing, making sure Egon could see him behind Ray. He winked, and reached into the waistband of his jeans to untuck his t-shirt, peeling the light fabric up and away from his torso slowly. Egon stifled a moan as Ray began working his way down his neck, his lips thick and eager on his skin. Peter took that as encouragement and turned around, looking back over his shoulder as he unbuttoned his jeans and slid them slowly down his legs.
"Peter, are you stripping for him? That's not fair; I can't see," Ray complained, but Egon could feel he was smiling against his skin.
"Oh, okay, if you insist." Peter swept off his boxers in one move and stepped out of them, his pale skin almost glowing in the combination of moonlight and the lab's lamps. He settled back into his place at Egon's left, teasing at the curl of the scientist's ear with his tongue.
Then both their hands were on him, gently pushing the lab coat from his shoulders, unzipping his uniform, unhooking his suspenders, unbuttoning his shirt, his trousers. Peter's hands caressed him, peeled away fabric and cherished the skin beneath. Ray unwrapped him like a birthday present, eagerly tossing the clothing behind them and smiling at what he saw. For a moment, shame bubbled up from somewhere and made Egon want to hide again, but he held it up to the light and it dissolved like a bad dream. Then he was naked, too; they all were, skin against skin, whole and complete.
Well, almost whole. Egon's fingers brushed the bandage at Ray's side. The engineer shook his head. "Don't worry about it. It really is just a scratch; if I'd moved a little faster, he wouldn't even have broken the skin."
Peter left off at Egon's ear. "It looks worse now than it did earlier, Ray. You need to be careful with that." He leaned across Egon's lap, one hand lightly caressing Ray's ribcage, worry and something warmer creasing his brow. Peter edged towards the younger man; Ray eased forwards over Egon's thighs, his hands finding Peter's shoulders and kneading gently.
Peter licked his lips. "No shame, then. For any of us."
"Not unless it's a turn-on for you." Ray's smile was utterly guileless and could have lit city blocks.
Then the two of them were kissing, mouths pressed together, almost devouring each other. Warmth surged through Egon's heart, and somewhere lower. He reached out and ran a hand through their hair, one hand apiece, the left tangling in Peter's unruly locks, the other brushing through Ray's short, soft auburn.
They drew apart, their eyes locked, amber and emerald gazing into each other before turning as one to meet Egon's sapphire. "We," began Ray, "have waited far too long for this." Peter breathed hard, nodding, momentarily speechless for once.
"Agreed," Egon nodded. Peter let go of Ray's shoulders and slid around him; Ray slipped off Egon's lap and onto the floor.
"Ease forward, Spengs," Peter whispered in his ear, and Egon complied as Peter moved behind him. Peter's erection rubbed against him, nestled in the top of the cleft of his buttocks, and Egon groaned. Ray's hands nudged his knees apart.
"Relax, and let us do the work, okay?" Peter's mouth dropped from his ear to his shoulder, tonguing him slowly, as his hands explored the flatness of Egon's belly. Ray shifted from kneeling to sitting between Egon's feet, and one broad, steady hand curled around his erection.
"Ah!" Egon arched his back. It had been a very long time since any hand other than his own had ventured there. Peter held him down. "Easy, big guy. Tell us what feels good, and we'll keep doing it. We'll go slow."
"Everything you're doing feels wonderful," Egon gasped out as Ray's grip on him eased slightly and began moving. Peter kept stroking, his hands following the trail of curling blond up Egon's chest.
"Good," Ray smiled from between his knees. Ray's other hand cradled his testicles gently, the warmth of his palm tricking up through Egon's groin. "Faster, slower, just right?"
"A little faster," Egon answered, his cheeks beginning to flush.
"Lean back a bit," Peter murmured, and twisted forward enough to kiss Egon again, awkward though the angle was. Egon's tongue was teasing Peter's out again when he felt Ray's grip change, and then -
- oh, god -
That was Ray's mouth on him, his mouth and his tongue and his insatiable appetite working down his erection. Egon gasped under Peter's lips; his hands dug for purchase on the sofa cushions, and his hips bucked out of pure instinct.
Peter laughed into his mouth. "Easy, I said. Don't choke him."
" 'Mm fine," Ray mumbled around a mouthful of Egon. He twirled his tongue and added a bit of suction; Egon's toes curled, the joints popping against the wooden floor.
"God, Ray, you look gorgeous doing that." Peter's breathing sped up; he rocked his hips gently against Egon's backside as he kissed his way from Egon's mouth to his collarbone.
"Mmm," Ray answered, too engaged in Egon's cock to answer properly, but his eyes sparkled. The hand not gently massaging Egon's balls curled around the last couple of inches that wouldn't fit in Ray's mouth, pumping gently in rhythm with his jaw and tongue. Something began to build, like charge on a capacitor, at the base of Egon's spine.
"More," he whimpered. Peter smiled against his shoulder, and his hands found Egon's nipples, brushing them gently as Ray sucked at him below. Egon closed his eyes and clenched his hands tighter against the sofa.
"You're about to come, aren't you, Egon?" Peter's voice was low and soft, and his breath was warm and damp, tickling his ear. "I can feel you breathing faster, the tension in your thighs. Ray looks so good there between your legs, I bet he feels good, too, doesn't he?"
"Yes," Egon moaned, letting his head fall back against Peter's broad shoulder, four hands and two mouths working him towards a release he'd been denying himself for years.
"So beautiful, both of you." Peter kissed him again. "Egon, I want to see you come, I want to see what those brilliant blue eyes of yours do when you come, I wanna feel you tense up in my arms, god, please, I wanna see you coming, I wanna hear you - "
"Yes, Peter, hold me, I'm close -"
" - hear you call out, Egon, please, come for me, come on - "
"Mmph," Ray added enthusiastically, his tongue redoubling its efforts.
Egon inhaled sharply and then groaned like a tree about to fall. His back tensed, his hands clenched, and the world seemed to contract to a single point in space-time, somewhere around his second chakra, then explode again outward in a torrent of heat and light, the universe recreating itself in that first contraction.
Then he was present in his body in a way he rarely was, aware of every muscle shaking as his body throbbed, of his own voice howling like an animal, of Ray's hungry mouth still on him, swallowing every drop of semen. Peter's hands were on him, too, his chest, his belly, his cock. That was Real. Ray's hands, his mouth, that was Real. This was the deep magic, the spell written in human flesh and on human hearts that the ghosts from elsewhere never understood.
Egon hadn't understood before, either, though it had saved his life too many times to count. Now, as the ancient rhythm sang in him, he knew it in fullness.
He opened his eyes and fell into Peter's. Peter face blazed with desire and rapt fascination. "So beautiful, god, Egon, I wanna watch you come like that over and over."
"I dearly hope that you will have the opportunity." Egon kissed him gently. "Thank you, Peter. Thank you, Ray."
"My pleasure," Ray answered emphatically, sitting back and wiping his chin with Peter's t-shirt. One hand still played with Egon's softening phallus, working him through the aftershocks.
"Get back up here," Peter ordered; Ray grinned and obeyed, clambering onto the sofa. "After that, I imagine you're pretty close yourself."
"Could be, yeah." Ray's cock was shorter, but thick and uncut. Egon reached over and curled one hand around it, rubbing his thumb against the soft spot just below the head; Ray arched his spine and mewled like a cat.
Peter slithered around Egon until Ray was between them and rubbed his own cock against the roundness of his hip. "Yeah, there we go. C'mon, Ray, I wanna see you come, too." Peter's hand joined Egon's on Ray's erection, their fingers sliding past each other.
"Keep talking, keep touching. You too, Egon, talk to me." Ray's eyes were closed, but he reached out to stroke Peter's cock.
Egon cleared his throat. He didn't think of himself as good at talking at the best of times, but if it was what Ray wanted, he'd try. "You have a very talented tongue, Ray."
"Glad you liked it." Ray beamed, his head tilted back against the sofa; Peter moved his off hand between Ray's heavy thighs.
"Very much." Egon gently pinched Ray's nipple between his thumb and forefinger; Ray shivered deliciously and gave an encouraging moan. "You're lovely, Ray. You look good enough to eat."
"You're hot, is more like it," Peter broke in, picking up his pace on Ray's cock; Egon followed suit. "Delicious. I can't believe I never realized how shameless you were before, Ray. So naughty. How long have you been thinking all these tasty, dirty thoughts about us again?"
Ray moaned and shuddered before he found his voice again. "Since I met you, Peter. Oh, god, Peter, when I realized how much you wanted Egon, I'd imagine the two of you making love together when I jacked off. I'd never come so hard in my life before." A frisson of fresh desire skittered down Egon's spine.
"And now, here we are," Peter added, his voice breathy. "Both of us, here, with you. Egon, c'mere." He leaned over and kissed Egon again, mouths open, tongues twining, playing out their own need but also putting on a show for their younger partner.
"Oh, gods," groaned Ray, his fingers tracing their jaws as they kissed each other, his eyes opened to amber slits below heavy lids. "So gorgeous, so hot, oh, oh, Peter, Egon, please."
"Let me feel you, Ray," Peter urged, and Ray clutched at him as he moaned, panted, and spurted under their twined hands. Egon tightened his grip on Ray's cock and felt him pulsing; something just under his heart vibrated with every throb, echoes of his own orgasm and something else he couldn't name yet. Ray gasped softly and went limp between them, every muscle relaxed.
"Ahh, Peter, Egon, thank you, thank you," Ray panted, sheer ecstasy painted in every line of his face; he trembled laxly as some late aftershock rolled through him.
"No problem." Peter sat back with a grin, eyes glistening, one hand trailing stickily from Ray's penis to his own.
Egon rolled over, trying not to jostle Ray. Balancing the three of them on the sofa was more difficult than he'd imagined. "Peter, would you come here, please? I want to feel your body on mine."
"If you say so," Peter replied, grinning madly as he and Ray switched places. He climbed into Egon's lap, his erection brushing against Egon's half-hardness. "I mean, whatever the post-possession syndrome patient wants."
"That would be all of us, Peter," Ray reminded him, still bonelessly draped next to them. He curled up against Egon's left side and cupped one hand against Peter's ass, groping him lightly.
"Exactly. Whatever we all want." Peter rolled his hips slowly, rhythmically, against Egon's skin, slippery and slightly sticky from sweat, saliva, Ray's come and the traces of Egon's own, and the strands of pre-come trailing from Peter's dick. Egon could feel himself hardening again. Well, it had been a very long time.
Peter noticed. "Up for another round, big guy?" His fingers trailed between them, stroking their cocks together. "Maybe I should ask you to fuck me instead."
"I'd love to, Peter, but I don't think I have the energy for it right now," Egon apologized. He rocked in time with Peter's movements, savoring the feel of them sliding together. Ray hummed contentedly and undulated against them, his own cock still soft.
"That's fine. We've got all the time in the world, now." Peter's legs tightened around Egon's hips, and Egon realized that Peter was holding back; the effort was making him tremble.
"Harder, Peter," he demanded, his voice an earthy rumble.
"Too much harder, and I'll pop before you're ready again," Peter protested.
"As you said, we have plenty of time for that. I want to feel you coming against me," Egon said, his fingers pressing tightly into the small of Peter's back.
"I want to watch you come, too, Peter," Ray added, reaching between Peter's legs and stroking his balls.
Peter inhaled sharply. "If you want it, you got it." He closed his eyes, leaned his head against Egon's shoulder, and picked up his pace. His skin slid against Egon's, hot and wet. Egon closed his eyes, too, and focused his attention on the physical sensations, the slick friction against his renewed erection, Ray's hands finding new places to touch on both of them.
"Oh, god, Ray, do that again. Egon, I'm almost there, I'm so close, fuck, so close, can you feel me?" Peter's hips stuttered, and he thrust himself against Egon with a fierce need that struck hot sparks in Egon's groin.
"Yes, I can feel you, Peter, harder, please." Egon felt his calf muscles beginning to shake with the effort of his own thrusts.
Peter convulsed in his arms. "Ah - coming - god!" he hissed through clenched teeth, and vibrated like a plucked string as warm wetness blossomed between them. "Aah," he gasped again, his hips still grinding against Egon as Ray stroked his back.
Egon held Peter tight and let the last thrust drive him over the edge again. He groaned wordlessly as he came, his cock throbbing against Peter's in the same rhythm. Someone keened in pleasure; that was too high to be his voice - it must be Ray's.
"Oh," sighed someone else. That might have been him. Egon drifted back to normal consciousness and opened his eyes. They were a tangle of arms and legs and musk, and they'd managed to knock one of the sofa cushions onto the floor in their ardor. Their clothes were all over the lab floor. He smiled. It was a mess, but it was a mess for very good reasons.
"Mmm." Peter slid out of Egon's lap. "So now what happens?"
"Shower," answered Ray, matter-of-factly.
"I suspect that Peter is asking a more broad question about how this finally-acknowledged connection is going to affect the rest of our lives," Egon offered.
Peter nodded. "Yeah. I mean, this is great, but it's gonna be a hell of a thing to break to Winston."
"If he didn't have a clue after the ritual, he's less perceptive than I think he is," Ray pointed out. "Assuming we didn't just wake him up, that is. He probably already knows."
"Knowing and being-okay-with are two different things," Peter replied. "And what about Janine?"
"If she wants to join us, I certainly wouldn't mind," Ray grinned.
Egon sat up and stared at him, eyes wide.
Ray looked concerned. "What?" He spread his hands in apology. "I thought you liked her, too."
"I do. I never pursued anything with her because I thought it wasn't fair to her for my heart to be with Peter instead of wholly with her." Egon's lips pursed in thought. "Simply explaining the situation to her in total and allowing her to make an informed choice about it seemed cruel, but . . . " He trailed off, looking at Peter expectantly.
Peter grinned. "Hey, I've been fantasizing about her since she came to work here. I don't think she's all that attracted to me, but if she's cool with us being a thing and still wants to be a part of it, I won't complain."
"It will be difficult to explain." Egon's eyebrows knotted.
"Let's deal with Winston first," Ray agreed. "Shower before that, though."
"Shower and sleep first," Peter yawned. "Suddenly the day's catching up with me."
A burble of green boiled through the floor in front of the sofa. "Guys bwack!" Slimer jabbered happily.
"Uh, yeah, Spud, we made it back in a couple of hours ago." Peter tried to keep his voice level.
Slimer spun around. "Magic? Wray doing magic up hewre?" He sniffed. "Why guys nayked?"
"We'll explain later. Winston's asleep, Slimer; don't wake him up," Ray shushed.
"Ooo, sowry." Slimer dashed off through the lab door towards the bunkroom.
"Well, there went any chance we had of Janine not finding out; we kind of have to tell her now," mused Peter.
Egon chuckled. "I can't imagine that she'd believe whatever Slimer thinks he just saw."
Ray added a giggle. "I don't think Slimer understood, anyway. I'm not sure he's equipped to."
"At least he didn't slime us," Peter sighed. "We're enough of a mess as it is."
"Which of us gets to shower first?" Egon asked.
"Think we could all fit in there?" Ray attempted to look innocent, but his eyes were low and sly, and mischief lurked at the corners of his mouth. The three stumbled from the sofa into the bathroom, stifling laughter, as the first purple of dawn twilight spread across the sky.