Eight stopped them at the start of the road to the Dark Ruins. "We should camp here."
"We could make it to the Dark Ruins by nightfall," Jessica protested, knowing it was foolish - the road ahead of them was already dark, the last of the sun's light blocked by the sheer cliffs on either side - but unable to stop herself.
"Do you want to camp on Dhoulmagus's front steps tonight?" Eight asked gently. "Because I don't."
Jessica closed her eyes. "What if he escapes?" And then, because it was what she'd feared since they'd gone to retrieve the mirror, "What if he's already gone?"
"He's there," Angelo said. His hands settled on her shoulders, kneading tense muscles. "I'd stake my life on it. And Eight's right; this is a good spot to spend the night."
They made camp, and ate while darkness fell around them. Typically, Angelo volunteered to take first watch - over her protests that she might as well, since she wasn't going to get any sleep, anyway - and the camp gradually fell silent, except for Yangus's snoring.
Jessica lay in her blankets and stared at the stars, trying not to notice how much of the sky was blacked out by the clouds over the ruins.
"You really aren't going to sleep, are you?"
She rolled onto her side to frown at Eight. "How can I, when we're this close?" she whispered back.
He nodded thoughtfully, then sat up. "Come on."
"Come on where?" She was more than a bit suspicious, but nonetheless pushed her own blankets aside and climbed to her feet.
Eight grinned and caught her hand. "You'll see."
He led her away from the fire, to where the cliffs fell away and moonlight spilled across the sand. Angelo was there, arms crossed, leaning against one of the sickly, twisted trees that grew near the cliffs; he straightened at their approach, a rueful smile on his lips.
"I told Eight you weren't going to be able to sleep," he said, reaching out to stroke her cheek, letting his hand trail down to her bare shoulder. "I wish I'd been wrong."
"It doesn't mean you both have to stay up with me," Jessica pointed out, even though Angelo's fingers tracing along her skin, Eight's arms around her from behind, helped ease the desperation that demanded she be up and after Dhoulmagus now. "I hardly need you acting like my nannies."
"Oh, that wasn't quite what we had in mind," Angelo said. "We thought it would be far more useful to get you to the point where you can sleep."
"Right here?" She looked around, at open ground and open sky and silver light. "With nothing but dead tree for privacy?"
"Everyone else is asleep," Eight murmured against her neck, and she realized his hands had been busy undoing the laces of her corset while he held her.
"And if they wake?" she asked, but the tension inside her was shifting, changing her disquiet to something else, something that spread and tingled beneath her skin.
"We could die tomorrow; I doubt they'd begrudge us this." Angelo leaned closer, his lips following the same path as his hand. "Besides, the less you argue, the less chance we have of waking them up."
"An excellent point." Eight's hands found their way up into her blouse, distracting her, and Angelo neatly slipped the fabric up and off before she could consider another protest.
They stripped her - and each other - with the ease of much practice, hands and mouths providing a welcome diversion from her thoughts. She let her eyes slide half closed, leaned willingly back against Angelo when he pulled her into his arms. He paused to free her hair, fingers combing it loose and heavy around her shoulders before his hands moved to cup her breasts, thumbs teasing across the nipples.
Eight kissed her, lips and cheeks and chin and throat, working his way down until he was on his knees. She pressed forward when he tasted her; one hand tangled in his hair, the other reached back for Angelo, fingers curving against his hip, pulling him tighter against her back. She could feel a cry building in her throat with every touch of Eight's tongue, every stroke of sword-roughened palms along her thighs and breasts and stomach, every endearment Angelo whispered, half heard, against her skin. Then Angelo's arm was tight around her waist, and his hand was turning her face toward him so that he could kiss her, hard, hard enough to muffle the sounds she was helpless to contain as Eight coaxed every last bit of tension from her shuddering body.
Angelo held her up a few moments longer, then eased her down onto their discarded clothing. "Better?" he asked with a teasing smile.
Jessica nodded, relaxed and sated. The tangle of clothing was still warm from their bodies; she stretched on her side, pillowing her head on her arm, tempted to fall asleep where she was.
A hiss of breath from Angelo brought her eyes open again. Eight, still on his knees, had Angelo pressed back against the tree, and now it was Angelo making soft, helpless noises before the onslaught of Eight's mouth. Abruptly awake, she sat up and shifted for a better view; they were only steps away, close enough for her to see the way Eight's fingers dug into Angelo's hips, the damp gleam Eight's mouth left on Angelo's cock, close enough to hear Angelo's breathing go ragged and fast, then still for a heartbeat, two, three, while his hands clutched desperately at Eight's shoulders.
For a moment they were frozen, a single perfect statue under the moon's silver light, then Angelo drew a deep breath and broke the tableau by pulling Eight to his feet. He wrapped his right arm around Eight, hand settling on Eight's hip; Eight leaned into the embrace, his head against Angelo's shoulder, dark against light. His entire body jerked when Angelo's fingers slid through the moisture gleaming on the tip of his cock, stroking it along his length; Jessica shivered with a sympathetic surge of desire, fingers curling against her thighs. She could see how close Eight was to the edge, practically feel it, need and frustration thrumming through the air as Angelo pinned him still and stroked, light and slow, fingertips ghosting across skin until Eight buried his face against Angelo's neck with a frustrated groan.
Angelo met her eyes, lips quirked in a half-smile of invitation.
The sound of surprise Eight made when her tongue slid along the underside of his cock quickly changed to something else. He bucked against Angelo's hold, but he was still pinned firmly, and now that she was the one in control she had to resist the temptation to tease, as Angelo had done. Perhaps sensing her hesitation, Eight made a pleading sound in his throat; she relented, taking him in her mouth. He was as ready as she'd suspected, and she knew him well enough that it only took a few moments before he was spilling across her tongue, bitter and familiar.
His face was still pressed against Angelo's neck when she rose, but he still reached for her. She leaned her head on Angelo's other shoulder, felt Angelo's hand settle at the small of her back, just below Eight's arm, and the world consisted only of the three of them.
"You should sleep," Angelo finally murmured against her hair. "That was the point of this, after all."
"I know."
After a few more moments, Eight moved to retrieve their clothes and shake sand out of them, and Jessica reluctantly moved away from Angelo so she could dress.
"Do you want me to come back?" Eight asked once they were dressed.
"No, you get some sleep too. I'll come wake you in a bit," Angelo replied, and Jessica pretended not to see the glance which said Stay with her as clearly as words.
She and Eight didn't touch as they returned to their beds - As if anyone who was awake could have missed what we were doing - but Eight did move his blankets closer to hers, reaching out to take her hand once they were settled.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
I will be, once Dhoulmagus is dead, she started to answer, then realized that was a lie.
Her fingers tightened around his. "Yes. I am."
Written for 30Threesomes. Prompt #19 - moon
