Compersion

**Like all of my stories, this one began its life as a fanfiction on my AO3 account. It's a little more buried in the canon world than the others, which is why I'm only posting the first of three chapters, but I did my best to make it readable if you're willing to just accept a vaguely fantasy background and references to an unexplained war.**

...

Aria and Rhys had invited Oren over for dinner dozens of times, of course. She didn't mind a bit; Oren was a good honorary brother-in-law, had even--early on in their relationship, when she'd was only eighteen and it had still been a secret--gone out of his way to step into the role of protective older brother, telling Rhys firmly and with no room for argument that if he stepped even atoeout of line, he'd hand him his ass personally. And yeah, sure, finding out that her husband had slept with his goofy, loquacious best friend off and on for a literal decade before Aria had come into his life wasweird, but a lot of things about her life were weird. What was one more?

But this... this was a lot. As evidenced by the dead silence at the dinner table, all three of them sat picking at the rather lovely salmon dish Rhys had prepared, not even the typically talkative Oren attempting conversation as he and Aria studiously avoided making eye contact. She was aware of her husband of less than a year shooting her repeated searching glances, aware that Oren was receiving them, too, but he didn't say anything about it, merely getting to his feet when they were all done eating and gathering up their plates with a light, "Aria made dessert."

Instantly, Oren smiled, shooting her a perfectly brotherly, affectionate look as he asked brightly, "Did you?" only for them both to wince and look away as he tacked on weakly, "... You know how I love your baking."

"Made your favorite," she responded just as faintly. "Berry tart with lemon custard." She made him one for his birthday every year and invited him over for a slice any time the mood struck her to whip one up. Neither of them lifted their eyes from the table as the man across from her thanked her in a polite but stiff tone, nor as Rhys--not much one for sweets himself--set a generous slice on a plate in the middle of the table with two spoons, leaving again only to return almost immediately with three glasses and a bottle of chilled white wine.

She could sense that he was about to speak before his mouth opened, didn't look up from the liquid filling her glass as he told them neutrally, "We really don't have to do this if you two don't want to, you know."

At last, and for the first time since before they'd invited Oren over a week before to propose this evening, she and the bulky mercenary across the table made real eye contact and held it, and she saw everything she felt reflected back to her on his face. Rhys may not have been the most affectionate person on the planet, but he was fiercely loyal, and in private, he could be terribly, terribly sweet. They both knew that, both knew that Aria wouldn't have recovered nearly so well from the impact of the war on her psyche without his patience and care, just as Oren very likely wouldn't have made enough progress on physical therapy to return to work if Rhys hadn't taken a full year off to help him with it every damn day. They both owed him so much, and what he was asking for... It was paltry by comparison.

Oren raised his eyebrows at her, and she shrugged, flushing. "Are you, um." She blinked at him, trying to put words to the nebulous insecurity swirling in her stomach nauseatingly, the thing that really scared her about what she'd agreed to do. "... Attracted to me? At all?"

Rhys snorted. Oren blinked back at her as though she'd asked a stupid question. "... Yes," he answered slowly. He didn't ask her the same question, which was good, because she wasn't sure what her response would have been. She'd never really looked at anybody that way other than her husband, the first man who ever treated her like shereallymattered from the moment they met. She'd never felt any need to.

"Then yeah," Aria concluded, nodding convulsively as she crossed her arms over her chest, looking at no one. "Yeah, I'm fine with it."

Oren huffed a sigh that sounded a tad relieved, even as the tense line of his broad shoulders failed to ease, and mumbled with a flush of his own on his face, "Yes, well. I meant it when I agreed."

"Glad we're all on the same page," Rhys murmured as he sank back into his seat and plucked up his wine glass, seemingly amused by their discomfort and shyness. "Drink, then, and have something sweet. Try to relax. We can call it at any point if it feels like too much and try again some other time." He shrugged. "Or not. Like I've told my lovely wife over and over since she dragged this out of me, I'm fine to leave it as a fantasy. You won't disappoint me."

"But you want it," Aria checked. "Right, love?"

He fixed her with a heavy, darkly affectionate grey gaze, his lips twitching up into a little smile. "Yes," he admitted, and there was a part of her that was still simply proud, of him for reaching a place where he could be this open with the people he cared about and of herself for helping him get there. "Yeah, baby. I want it."

Well, then. Fine. That settled it. She'd sleep with Oren. "Okay," she decided, plucking up a spoon demonstratively and scooping herself up a bite of custard, berries, and shortbread crust. "Then we're doing it."

Thank the gods, nobody commented when she washed it down with the whole glass of wine in one go, or when she drained the second one almost as quickly. She and Oren forced stilted but friendly conversation, mostly about the tart, and by the time she'd finished her third glass and Rhys was washing the dishes, she felt... fortified.

...

Oren was a lot bigger than Rhys.

Not-- Aria hadn't seen his dick yet, she couldn't comment on that, but retiring to the bedroom she shared with her husband and looking up at him in that intimate space--lit strategically by their host before dinner, with warm, sensual light that was rather brighter than she would have preferred so that he could watch them clearly--it struck her that he was amountainof a man, a realization that made her sway back a tad in her intoxication. Rhys was a bit taller, but lithe, stringy. Oren was all muscle and bulk, broad-shouldered with biceps as big around as her damn thighs. He was probably two and half times her weight, for fuck's sake. Part of her felt an awful lot like she had the first time her husband had taken her to bed; he'd intimidated her, made her feel small and a little raw with the vulnerability of being naked underneath someone so much bigger than her. She was having trouble conceptualizing what this was going to be like, maybe that was the way to say it. Having trouble imagining herself spreading her legs for a huge man who was also goofy, sweet, sexlessOren. Oren with his hair neatly combed back, wearing slacks and a button down like he was on a fuckingdate. It was absurd, utterly absurd.

They didn't look at each other as Rhys arranged things for them, setting water and lube out on the bedside table, fussily correcting invisible wrinkles in the quilt on their immaculately made bed, turning on the radio to a station that played soothing instrumental music... (That was less to set the mood and more to soften the silence, she was pretty sure. It was so quiet she could barely hear it.) Then--with an under his breath huff of amusement--Rhys took her gently by the hand, grabbed Oren by the arm, and led them both to the bed, urging them to sit down next to each other before retiring to the corner of the room, where the pair of armchairs they sat in to read together almost every night were positioned. The table between them bore a bottle of whiskey and a glass, and Aria watched nervously--rubbing her palms convulsively over the skirt of the dress he'd talked her into over and over--as he poured himself a couple of fingers, settled back into his usual chair, and shot her a searingly heated look that hit her right between the legs.

She shivered, her breath hitching. And then she noticed Oren noticing her reaction, his expression intent and intrigued, and felt her face flush brilliantly. He reached like he'd touch her leg, but recoiled, lacing his hands together in his lap instead, and Aria...reallydid not know what to do. Nothing felt natural. For lack of any better course of action, she toed off her flats, the blue ones her husband had gotten to match this sundress that she'd bought for her best friend's wedding last year, only to freeze up when she realized Oren was watching her do that, too, his gaze just as intense directed at her newly bared feet as it had been since they'd entered the bedroom.

For a beat of silence, it seemed like nobody even breathed. Then, clearly amused, Rhys offered softly, "Do you need help?" only to laugh aloud when they each nodded vigorously, seemingly equally relieved. "You're both so cute," he cooed, his smile turning rakish, and it made her feel shy and loved the way it always did, even though she was sharing the affection with Oren. Then Rhys locked eyes with his best friend and advised him matter-of-factly, "She has a praise kink."

Her jaw dropped, a strangled, scandalized syllable torn from her throat as her face blazed bright red. That wasprivate, dammit, that she got wet for being told she was pretty and a good girl, but... But sex was private, too, wasn't it? And she was about to dothatwith Oren, and...

The man sitting next to her cleared his throat, and she turned wide, apprehensive eyes on him, having no clue whatsoever what it would look like for loudmouth fucking Oren to try to use knowledge of her praise kink to seduce her, only to find herself bizarrely charmed by watching him tap his fingers together nervously and admit in a low voice, "You... asked me if I found you attractive. I do. I have for a long time. That is... Ah, relevant to my agreement to do this."

"I didn't realize you hadn't noticed how he looks at you, sweetheart," Rhys supplied huskily, propping his elbow on the arm of his chair and his chin on his fist, casual as you please. "I've always thought it was so cute how oblivious you are about people flirting with you, eyeing you up. How many of your friends want to fuck you."Oh. Something about his tone woke her up inside, the pride, the love, thedesire, and another kind of heat began to swirl with the warmth of the wine behind her navel. "Tell her what you told me, Oren."

The man beside her startled, shooting her a guilty glance. "I-I, um--" he stuttered, cringing slightly away from her. "You're-- I think that you're quite--quite a lovely young woman, very--um, vibrant, which I have always admired, and energetic, and--"

"No, no," Rhys interrupted, his tone teasing. "The bit about wanting her to sit on your face reverse cowgirl until you suffocate in her tight little ass." Aria felt her eyes go big and her jaw drop, stunned stupid by the vulgarity of those words coming from fuckingOren. Abouther."The bit about wondering if she has enough stamina to keep up with how many times in a row you want to, and I quote, 'fuck her brains out until she squeals.'"

There was a beat of silence in which Aria's incredulous stare dragged from her husband to his best friend, whose face had gone red as a tomato, frozen stiff with his dark eyes fixed blankly at middle distance. "Right," he choked out. "Right, that... that bit. That's the bit. The bit you wanted me to, um. Say to your wife."

"You talk about me likethatto your friends?" Aria heard herself demand, aghast.

Her husband shot her an apologetic smile that was so sweet and handsome that she really couldn't muster the energy to get upset with him. "Just to Oren," he soothed her, like that made itbetter, and then he looked at his best friend, prompting him expectantly, "Well?"

Oren cleared his throat, looking away from her and then back, and there was suddenly some heat there, enough to warm her behind the navel, get her body's attention on the activity at hand, but he kept his voice quiet, polite, as he told her with full eye contact, "I would--very much enjoy the opportunity to lose oxygen pleasuring you orally, and, ah, I'm very interested--interested to know if our sexual stamina is... comparable." He scratched at the back of his head, shrugging one broad shoulder, and tacked on, "You... don't have to squeal."

Aria blinked at him, trying to figure out what to do with the fact that her body was getting excited in earnest, that it sort of turned her on to watch such a strong and confident man get shy about how badly he wantedher, of all people. It made her feel...powerful. And the idea of oral was appealing, to say the least. Rhys wasn't able to do that for more than a minute or two at a time without his jaw popping out of socket audibly--the result of an old injury that vexed him deeply--but those snatches of sensation were, ah. Enticing, to say the least. She had always fantasized about being able to experience it long enough to come. She hadn't imagined that happening with Oren, but come to think of it, she really hadn't thought much about what this would actually be like at all. She found herself studying the man sitting next to her on the bed, more than a little flattered by the way that he was looking at her, his gaze repeatedly trailing down only to snap guiltily back up to her face.

Rhys had said this dress made her look fuckable. Did Oren agree?

Did he really want to use his tongue on her?

She pressed her thighs together, feeling awfully shy all of the sudden, and gasped silently at the jolt of interest that shot through her when the movement caught the man's attention and she heard him swallow. Yeah, she... Maybe she wanted him to put his mouth on her. She wanted to know what that was like, but it made her feel a little guilty, too, to want something her husband wanted to give her but couldn't, and--

"See, Oren? This is what I mean. She needs constant reassurance that you want her, that you think she's sexy." She almost flinched at the brutally accurate description of the impact her lonely childhood as the village punching bag had made on her sexuality as an adult, but then she looked over at her husband and felt her self-consciousness and her guilt melt away at the open, amorous expression on his handsome face, the lust and love and patience in his eyes and the barely-there flush of arousal across his fine cheekbones. Right. Right, this was for him, but he wanted her to enjoy it. He couldn't give her oral sex directly, but he could give it to her indirectly, like this. She wasn't doing anything wrong if he wanted this. They were all doing it together. It was... mutual.

Aria felt her hands curl in her skirt instinctively, crushing it in her sweaty palms, and the extra inch of thigh it exposed drew Oren's dark gaze like a magnet as he told her with heart-wrenching sincerity, "I do think that you're sexy, Aria."Oh. "I will... Endeavor to remind you liberally of that fact, should you wish to continue."

And then the energy in the room shifted all at once when she responded breathlessly, thoughtlessly, "How do we start?"

"You could kiss," Rhys suggested lightly, shifting to rest his ankle on his knee, looking perfectly at ease with the idea of directing them through messing around together. He took a sip of whiskey, winking at her as he swallowed when she caught his eye. "See where it takes you."

...

Aria was... kissing Oren.

On the lips.

She was in his lap, sideways with one of his hands on her knee and his other arm around her waist, and her arms were around his neck, and they were kissing. Oren's tongue was in her mouth.

She'd never kissed anyone other than the man sitting in the corner watching them with a glass of whiskey in his hand before that day, and now she was kissing fuckingOren, and it turned out he was areally good kisser. She kept finding herself forgetting what was happening, floating on the wine and her arousal and the pleasure of being kissed so well and so thoroughly. It was distracting enough that when she heard her husband sayshe doesn't like her hair pulled, but she wants you to take a handful and hold her in placeand the man kissing her instantly obeyed, locking his fingers in the long golden curls she'd spent forever fussing about earlier that evening, it didn't occur to her to open her eyes or to worry that she was doing something wrong.

She felt really, really good.

She liked to be held by her hair.

She wanted to be touched.

And yet, when the hand on her knee crept up her thigh, edging under the hem of her skirt, she got nervous all over again, breaking their kiss in favor of a deep breath and a glance around the room, looking for reassurance--(Oh,wow, the way Oren immediately pulled her closer and dipped his head to nibble at her neck, like he was too hungry for her to take a break like the one she needed, was so hot it made her head spin)--and finding it in the look on her husband's handsome face. Rhys's eyes were heavy-lidded, burning into hers like hot coals, and the moment their gazes met, he mouthedgood girlat her and her whole body shuddered. The reaction seemed to encourage the man kissing her; his palm slid up her thigh, taking her skirt with it and exposing more of her skin, then lifted to skim her waist, only hesitating a moment before he palmed her breast and whispered low and heated, "You have a beautiful body, Aria."

"That's right," Rhys encouraged them, his voice a little raspy. "Keep reminding her, or she'll get nervous. She's shy, sweet little thing."

For a moment, Aria managed to think through her horny, wine-soaked fog enough to have the distinct thought ofI think they talked to each other about this a lot more than they let on, and then Oren was in her ear, his warm breath and his surprisingly gentle fingers finding her nipple through her clothes making her shiver as he told her low and ragged, "I think a lot about bodies, you know. What makes one perfect, how they can be improved. I've poured thousands of hours into mine, but yours bloomed perfect from the beginning." And that waswordyandweird, yes, but also...deeplyflattering. It left her floundering, flushed, feeling rather helpless in that way she'd thought only her husband could make her feel as he went on heatedly, "Perfect. I have always aimed to be an honorable man, Aria. Do you understand how tempting you must be, to cause me to covet my best friend's beloved wife? To make meunableto avert my gaze and purify my thoughts, even with the iron will I've spent my entire life honing?"

Bizarrely, the thought that Aria touched upon in that moment, as her heart seized up and she forgot how to breathe, wasif I didn't noticethis, is Rhys right that my guy friends all want to fuck me?and then her husband commanded them silkily, "Unzip her dress, Oren, you've got her in the palm of your hand."

The zipper started to come down, the comfortably cool air of the room hitting her bare back, and even though it was singularlystrangefor her husband to step in to take charge of her consent, of moving the situation along, she was grateful for it. She trusted him, knew he knew her, knew that if he thought she was ready to start undressing, he was most likely right; no one had ever read her better, after all.

She was somehow unprepared for Oren to want to look at her, unprepared for him to gently urge her upright, guiding her hands down to her lap to ease the way to pull the straps of her dress down and off, and then she was sitting in his lap, blushing up at him as he bared her breasts to the room, giving them a look like their beauty pained him with a groan of pure need so sensual it made her pussy throb. "A work of art," he whispered as he brushed the backs of his knuckles across the swell of her flesh, just under her left nipple. "Like a master painting. I can almost see the brushstrokes," and while Rhys was effusive in his love and attraction for her, it was simpler, more brutal. The first time she'd shown him her tits, blushing up at him in the strange light cast by the lantern in the corner of the tent they'd been forced to share on that fateful mission just after the war, he had licked his lips and mumbledfucking edible, gorgeous, you make me wannabiteyou. This was... altogether different. She wasn't prepared for it, or for the way it shut her brain off and made her clit twitch, that hurt thing inside of her that needed to be told she was worthy of affection and attention basking like a lizard on a hot rock.