anora

The holidays don’t feel like they used to.

When you were little, you loved everything about the season—going to the winter markets, drinking hot chocolate, ice skating in the park. As the years went on, the magic faded little by little. Gran stopped hiding presents around the house. You didn’t have time to make your favorite cinnamon cookies. And when your older brother, Caleb went off to the Aerospace Academy, you started hating the holidays altogether.

This time of year is all about family. Spending time with the people you love, feeling grateful for all that you have. You don’t feel fortunate this year, though.

It’s your first winter since Gran’s passing, and you haven’t heard from Caleb since the funeral. You don’t blame him for his radio silence—his duties as Colonel in the Farspace Fleet certainly outweighed making gingerbread houses with his kid sister. Still, it doesn’t make you feel any less lonely as the days get shorter and the nights grow colder.

A knock at your bedroom door snaps you out of your self-pitying thoughts.

“Hey,” Zayne says, opening the door just a crack. “Is it alright if I come in?”

The question almost makes you laugh. It's no question he’s welcome inside—it’s his home, after all.

You do have one thing to be grateful for this year, you realize. If Zayne hadn’t taken you in after Gran’s passing, you weren’t sure where you’d be right now. It wasn’t easy at first—hells, it still was far from easy—but you and Zayne had grown into a comfortable rhythm of living together. You’d learned how he likes his tea (extra sugar), found a television program you both can agree on (that one ridiculous children’s cooking competition), and had even finally come to a compromise on the air conditioning temperature (warmer during the day for you, cooler at night for him).

“Of course,” you respond. “Come in.”

He’s still in his work clothes, tie loosened, dark hair a little disheveled. It always looked like that after he’d run his hand through it a few times. And he only ran his hand through his hair when he was thinking about something serious.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, sitting cross-legged to make room for him to have a seat at the foot of your bed.

He doesn’t respond at first, just hands you a glass of water, watching intently as you gulp it down. It’s almost routine now, the way he checks in on you each night when he comes home from the hospital. He hates leaving you alone all day, hates that he can’t take care of you all the time. He won’t admit it to you, though. Not with words, anyway.

But you see it in the glasses of water. The cash he secretly places on your dresser so you can do something fun. The fresh-cut fruit he leaves in the fridge for you because he knows you won’t prepare it for yourself. Little things that are easy to take for granted. But thinking about them altogether, seeing the way he studies you now, like he’s trying to solve whatever is making you upset…it makes your chest ache.

“Everything is fine,” he responds, only after you’ve finished the water. He takes the now-empty glass from your hands and sets it on your nightstand. “I just wanted to see how you’re feeling. I know the holidays can be hard after loss, and I’ve been working a lot of late nights, and I just—“

He lets out a shaky sigh, running a hand through his hair once more.

“I need to know that you’re okay. More than okay,” he says. “And if there’s anything you need, anything you want, I need to know that you’ll tell me, alright?”

You grab his hand without thinking, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Zayne, please don’t worry about me,” you tell him. “I am more than okay.”

He nods once, but doesn’t let go of your hand.

“There’s something else,” he says finally, voice lower now. Almost hesitant.

You tilt your head. “Okay…”

He clears his throat, thumb brushing the edge of your palm.

“I spoke to Caleb.”

“Caleb?” You nearly choke on air. “Like… Caleb, Caleb?”

“Yes, Caleb Caleb,” he smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“He called a few nights ago. I didn’t tell you right away because I wasn’t sure if…” His words trail off. He sighs. “I wasn’t sure if it would make things better. Or harder.”

Your breath catches, just for a second. Caleb. You’d thought about calling him yourself a hundred times since the funeral. Maybe a thousand. But you never did. Because you were afraid he wouldn’t answer. Afraid you’d just be annoying him.

Zayne shifts, his knee brushing yours. “He asked about you.”

You look down at your hands, still joined. “What did you say?”

“I told him you’re strong. But lonely. That you’ve been trying to carry all this weight by yourself.”

You swallow hard.

“I didn’t mean to go behind your back,” he adds, quickly. “But I invited him to stay for New Year’s. Here, with us. In the guest room.”

Your head snaps up. “You what?”

“I know it’s last minute. And I know you’re still… processing. But I thought maybe—just maybe—it’d be good for you to have family around. Someone from…before.”

Before Gran died. Before you started waking up in this house. Before everything changed.

Your voice is quiet. “And what if I’m not ready to see him?”

Zayne’s expression softens.

“Then he doesn’t come through the door,” he says. “Not unless you want him to.”

Your chest twists. You nod slowly, lacing your fingers through his.

“I want him to come,” you decide. But the tone of your voice isn’t entirely convincing.

Zayne is patient, though. He always is. He waits for you to continue, giving your hand a calming squeeze.

“It’s just…” you start, clearing your throat. “You’ve already done so much for me. And I don’t want to take up more space than I should.”

His jaw tics, like the words physically hurt him.

“Don’t say that.” He says softly, but there’s an edge to it. “Don’t ever act like you’re some kind of burden. Not to me.”

He holds your hand tighter.

“You’re not taking anything I wouldn’t give,” He looks at you like he’s trying to will it into your bones. “This is your home, too. You belong here, with me. Whether you believe it yet or not.”

The words hit you, and it’s all too much. Too generous. Too thoughtful for someone who was just meant to put a roof over your head.

You look away, let go of his hand before you can overthink his words. The air shifts back to neutral.

“So,” you say, trying to make things lighter. “When’s he getting here?”

Zayne lets you have the out. “Tomorrow night.”

You nod, heart thudding.

Tomorrow, everything changes.

—

You don’t realize how long you’ve been pacing until Zayne speaks behind you.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor.”

You turn. “Sorry. Just—nervous.”

He nods once, adjusting the sleeves of his sweater. No lab coat today. No stethoscope. Just…Zayne, in socks and sweatpants. And still, somehow, the most intimidating person in the room.

“He’s your brother,” Zayne says. “You’ve missed him.”

You chew your lip. “I have.”

Before either of you can say anything else, there’s a knock at the door.

You freeze. Zayne doesn’t. He crosses the room and opens it in one smooth motion.

“Colonel,” he says in greeting.

And just like that, Caleb’s standing in the doorway—coat half-unzipped, snow in his hair, duffel slung over his shoulder. He’s taller than you remember. Stronger. Sharper, too. But when his eyes land on you, they soften.

“Hey, pipsqueak.”

Your heart lurches. “Hey.”

You expect him to hug you right away. But he steps inside slowly, looking past you. Around the room. At the cozy living space filled with things that aren’t yours, but feel like yours now. At your shoes, tucked next to Zayne’s by the door.

At Zayne, who hasn’t moved. At you and Zayne. The space between you. The space that isn’t quite enough to be completely innocent.

Something unreadable flickers in Caleb’s eyes.

Then he hugs you.

His arms wrap around you, solid and warm. The way they always used to. But this time, it’s slower. Lasts a little too long. His hand finds the back of your head, thumb soothing against your hair like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

You feel the breath he lets out, quiet but heavy. One it seemed he'd been holding for days. Weeks. Months.

And when you start to pull back, he doesn’t. Not right away.

His hand slides down to your shoulder.

“You holding up okay, meimei?” he asks, voice low, too close to your ear.

You nod, because you are holding up okay. You just feel…guilty.

Guilty that you’re standing. That you don’t spend your nights grieving anymore. That you’ve found some version of safety again, and it doesn’t look anything like your life before—the one where Caleb was the only boy you’d ever trusted.

Zayne leaves the two of you alone, and you’re not sure if that makes things better or worse.

You swallow the lump forming in your throat and force yourself to move. You attempt to grab your brother’s duffel bag, but he just raises an eyebrow.

“I’ve got it,” he says, slinging it over one shoulder like it’s weightless. “I’m still stronger than you, last I checked.”

“Barely,” you mutter, but it makes your heart ache a little. Because he used to say that kind of thing every day. Used to ruffle your hair and annoy you on purpose, just because he could.

“I’ll show you to your room,” you say, already leading the way.

He sets his bag down with a thud at the foot of the guest bed, looking around the room with that quiet soldier’s habit of scanning for exits, sightlines, vulnerabilities.

“It’s not much,” you say, hovering awkwardly by the door. “Zayne’s been meaning to repaint it.”

Caleb doesn’t comment. He crosses to the window, peering out at the quiet street below.

“You’ve changed,” he says finally.

You blink, taking a few steps into the room. “Is that a good thing?”

He turns to face you. “Didn’t say it wasn’t.”

There’s a pause—long enough for the air between you to grow heavy. You cross your arms, shifting under his stare.

“Just say what you want to say, Caleb.”

He exhales through his nose. “It’s a nice place. He takes care of you.”

“Yes,” you agree. You refold the spare blanket at the end of the bed, despite folding it three times today already.

“But?”

You lift your chin. “There is no but.”

His jaw works, studying your reaction. “I just worry, alright? It’s not exactly a standard arrangement.”

You bristle at that. “Gran trusted him. I trust him.”

“And what does he want in return?”

That one cuts deeper than you expect. Not because Zayne’s ever given you a reason to doubt him—he hasn’t. Not once. He’s done nothing but protect you, respect you, care for you with a kind of quiet loyalty that never asks for anything in return. But you can’t help that a part of you has wondered, late at night, what exactly Zayne is doing—what he’s waiting for. What will happen when he sees you’re not broken anymore, when he realizes he doesn’t need to take care of you.

You swallow. “He’s not like that.”

Caleb scoffs under his breath, not even trying to hide it.

“What?” you snap.

He crosses the room, grabbing your wrist to hold you still. You didn’t realize you were still smoothing the edges of the blanket absentmindedly.

“I’ve seen how he looks at you.”

Your stomach drops.

“He doesn’t look at you like you're some random roommate. Or a helpless child. Or whatever story you’re telling yourself to sleep at night.”

You try to escape his grip, but he just pulls you in closer. “You’re reading into things,” you tell him.

“Maybe,” he admits. “But I’m not blind.”

You turn away, and he lets you go. “Zayne’s never done anything to make me feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m not saying he has.” Caleb’s voice is calmer now, but it’s the calm that comes right before a storm. “But that doesn’t mean I’m just gonna sit back and pretend he’s not looking at you like you’re his.”

You shake your head. “You don’t know anything about it.”

“I know enough to ask questions,” he says. “And I know you.”

You fold your arms tight around your chest, suddenly cold. “Then you’d know you have nothing to worry about.”

"Right."

He watches you like he’s realizing he already lost you—and you didn’t even notice you were leaving.

“I’ll let you get some rest. Bathroom’s down the hall,” you murmur, already backing towards the door. “Goodnight, Caleb.”

You’re gone before he can say it back, missing the way his expression falls after you close the door behind you.

—

You wake up slow, heavy in a way that has nothing to do with sleep. The house is quiet except for the faint sound of something sizzling.

The smell is warm. Familiar. It makes something behind your ribs ache.

When you step into the kitchen, Caleb’s already there—sleeves pushed up, working a pan like it’s any other morning.

“Figured I’d make breakfast,” he says without looking up. “Your old favorite.”

There’s a plate on the counter already, piled high with pancakes dotted with chocolate chips and strawberries, maple syrup pooled on the side. Just like he always made when you were younger. You used to love them.

You stare at the plate, throat tight. “Thanks,” you manage, taking a seat at the counter.

You take a bite. It’s fine. Just a little too sweet. A little too much. But you chew quietly and don’t say a word.

Zayne appears a moment later, already dressed, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He doesn’t say good morning right away—he just looks at you, then the plate, and goes to grab something from the fridge.

He sets a container of lemon yogurt by your plate.

“I picked this up for you the other day,” he says, grabbing you a spoon. “Thought you might like it with pancakes.”

You blink at it, then at him.

“I do,” you reply. “Thank you.”

You swap out the syrup for the tangy coolness. It hits exactly right. You don’t look up, but you feel Caleb’s pause. Hear him flip the next pancake a little too hard.

“Guess I’ve got some catchin' up to do,” he mutters, more to himself than anyone. And it hits harder than you wish it did.

The next few minutes go by in tense silence, save for the tapping of Zayne’s fingers as he sends off some work emails and the scrape of your spoon against the plastic yogurt container. As soon as you’re finished, you toss it in the trash, as if hiding the evidence of Zayne’s care will wipe the look of disappointment off of Caleb’s face.

It doesn’t.

“So,” you try instead. “I was thinking…”

“Really?” Zayne doesn’t even look up from his phone before speaking. “That’s never ended well.”

You roll your eyes back so far it hurts.

“I was thinking ,” you repeat louder, stretching out the word, “that we could go outside, maybe check out the park across the street. Build a snowman or something.”

As soon as the thought leaves your mouth, it sounds stupid. Why would grown men want any business playing outside, rolling up snow and—

“Dibs on the middle,” Caleb announces. Nevermind, then. “He’s gonna have the best abs the Linkon snowpeople have ever seen.” He flexes his biceps, and you playfully swat his arm away.

You dare to look at Zayne, fearing he’ll say no. You shoot him the best puppy-dog eyes you can manage.

To your surprise, he tilts his head with a look that says Is that even a question?

“I’ll run to the store and get some supplies for his face,” he says.

You smile so hard that both of the men laugh.

“I’ll go find some clothes for him, then,” you tell them, already halfway to your room.

When you come back out, Caleb’s already at the front door, all decked out in snow gear. You have him carry some of the accessories you managed to find—a too-small hat, mismatched mittens, a hideous scarf. The two of you head out to the park, where Zayne said he’d meet you.

For now, though, it’s just the two of you.

The world outside is soft and white, the park nearly empty beneath the chill of the winter morning. Everything feels new, untouched since last night’s snowfall.

“This’ll be the spot,” Caleb says, already dropping to his knees in a patch of clean snow. “Optimal snowman real estate.”

His gloved hands move with ease, scooping snow up into a giant ball like he’s done this a hundred times before. He probably had, now that you think about it. You used to beg him to make snowmen with you at the sight of a single snowflake.

Some things haven’t changed.

You sniffle, rubbing your nose on the back of your sleeve. You try to be discreet, but Caleb catches the movement like a hawk.

“Cold already, huh?” he stops his work on the hip-height snowball, turning his attention entirely to you. “You always did forget how brutal snow is when you’re not just watchin' it from the window.”

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks sting, and your nose is definitely red if the look he gives you is anything to go by. His expression softens, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You’ve got frostbite written all over you,” he mutters as he removes his gloves one at a time. You try not to stare at the way he flexes his hands, getting them used to the cold air.

Then, without waiting, he reaches for the ridiculous plaid scarf you’d brought for the snowman—a hideous thing, probably meant for a donation bin. Caleb shakes it out, stands up, and steps closer.

You reach out a hand to grab it from him, but he ignores it. Instead, he wraps the scarf behind your neck himself, looping it once around your throat. When his hands linger on the fabric, warm knuckles brushing your jaw, you nearly forget how to breathe.

“Y’know, the weather in Skyhaven’s pretty nice this time of year,” he tells you, his breath forming small clouds between you. “You wouldn’t get cold there.”

Your heart sinks at what he didn’t say. At the thought of what life would be like had you not moved in with Zayne.

At the end of the day, though, it was Zayne who welcomed you into his home with open arms when your brother barely stuck around for the funeral. It was Zayne who Gran entrusted with your safety—not Caleb. And that meant something to you.

“I don’t mind the cold,” you tell him, looking down at your boots. “And I don’t think I could live in a place without snow.”

He ties the scarf tighter, just enough to force your chin up to look at him.

“You should’ve asked me,” he says, holding your gaze. He doesn’t need to explain what.

“You didn’t offer,” you reply.

His jaw tightens. “You didn’t wait for me to.”

For a moment, the world goes quiet. No wind. No snow. Just Caleb’s hands still on the scarf at your throat, his eyes searching yours like he’s afraid he’s already lost something he never got to keep.

“I didn’t think…” You hesitate, fingers brushing the end of the scarf. “I didn’t know that was something you wanted.”

Caleb doesn’t blink. Doesn’t look away.

“Did you really not know? After everything?”

You hesitate, then shake your head no.

“It was never even a question. Not to me,” he says, voice steady and low. “I didn’t think I had to spell it out. I thought….I thought you knew I’d take care of you. That I always would. No matter what.”

He doesn’t move, but the scarf suddenly feels tighter.

“I didn’t offer,” he adds quietly, “because I didn’t think I had to. You were supposed to come to me.”

Your chest twists. “But you never said—”

“Neither did you.”

He exhales once, sharply, and finally lets go of the scarf around your neck—but he doesn’t step back. If anything, he leans in closer. Just enough that you feel the heat of his breath when he speaks again.

“I would’ve cleared out my whole apartment for you. Would’ve burned the whole fuckin' place to the ground if you’d asked,” he says, but he doesn’t raise his voice. That almost makes it worse. “I’d have built you a home brick by brick with my bare hands if it meant you’d stay where you belong.”

“Caleb…” you start, but there’s no end to the sentence. Because what can you say? Sorry? I didn’t know? I didn’t think I was allowed to belong to you?

“I know he’s the one who takes care of you now. The man who was there when I should’ve been. I get it,” he sighs. “But don’t act like it doesn’t kill me. Like I didn’t want you to choose me.”

His eyes dart to your lips, only for a second. Like he regrets it instantly.

“Would you have?” he asks suddenly. “If I had asked?”

You want to lie. To make it easier.

“I…” you whisper. “I don’t know.”

And it’s the truth. Even though it devastates you to say it. Even though it feels like betrayal—of Zayne, who’s been nothing but good to you. And of Caleb, who’s never asked for anything, but whose pain bleeds through every word right now.

You don’t know what your life would’ve looked like if you’d gone with Caleb. If you’d waited. If you’d known. If he’d said something sooner. If you had.

You don’t know which of them you want more. You don’t even know if you’re allowed to want at all.

His hands curl into fists at his sides, like he’s holding back—fury, desperation, maybe just the urge to touch you. And you’d let him, wouldn’t you? Just for a second. Just to feel it. Just to know what it could’ve been like.

But you can’t.

Not when he’s a guest in the home Zayne’s built for you. Not when he’s the only family you have left.

“You should’ve been mine,” he says as he steps back, so quietly you barely hear it. He pulls his gloves back on without another word, goes back to forming the base of the snowman as if he didn’t just tear your heart into pieces.

The wind picks up, but it’s not what makes your eyes burn.

“Thought I’d find you two out here.”

You turn at the sound of Zayne’s voice, heart hammering. Caleb doesn’t look up. You blink back your tears, praying that Zayne doesn’t notice the tension between you and your brother that’s so heavy it hurts.

If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. Just hands you a paper bag filled to the brim with carrots and blueberries and buttons.

“I thought blueberries would make a nice smile. Buttons for eyes,” he speaks about the snowman supplies so seriously, you can’t help but smile. “And of course he’ll have a carrot nose.”

“Of course,” you echo, and immediately get to work.

Between the three of you, the snowman is finished in no time. Caleb drew a six-pack onto his stomach. You gave him a lopsided blueberry smile. And now Zayne carefully presses in the button eyes with surgical precision.

“Suppose we should give him a proper winter welcome,” Caleb’s voice calls from behind you.

Before you can ask what that means, something slams into your shoulder. Snow explodes. And Caleb’s already kneeling for another handful.

You yelp. “Oh my god—are we seriously doing this?”

Another snowball flies past you. Zayne dodges it without a word, shaking his head like he can’t believe he’s indulging this. But he’s already packing one, too.

You can’t help it—you’re laughing, running behind the snowman for cover, breath sharp in your chest. The three of you hurl snowballs at each other like it’s war. It’s the most alive you’ve felt in days.

Zayne aims low. Caleb aims hard. Too hard.

You straighten just as he releases. A perfect throw, dead-center. You don’t even see it coming until—

Thwack.

It hits you square in the chest. Not the shoulder. Not the arm.

Your heart.

Everything goes white.

The cold hits you an instant later, but so does the dark. You feel your knees buckle. Hear someone shout your name. Someone else curses violently. Then nothing.

Just snow. Just silence. Just the sound of someone crashing through it, trying to reach you.

—

You wake to warmth—and raised voices.

“…you shouldn’t have thrown it that hard,” Zayne mutters, low but scathing.

“I wasn’t aiming for her,” Caleb bites back. “You think I’d do that on purpose?”

“She stopped breathing,” Zayne says quietly so as not to disturb you. But the strain in his voice tells you he wishes he could shout. “Blunt force like that could be fatal for someone with her condition.”

The words land like a slap. You don’t fully register them at first. Your brain’s still foggy, blurred by whatever knocked you under, but they hit you all the same. You think that Zayne can be dramatic at times about your heart problems—it was his job to worry as your cardiologist, after all—but something about this time felt serious.

“You think I don’t fuckin' know that?” Caleb’s attempt at keeping his voice down is less effective.

Your lashes twitch. They don’t notice.

“She collapsed, and you stood there frozen while I had to make sure her ribs weren’t shattered—”

“I wasn’t frozen—”

“You panicked.”

“Because I care!” Caleb snaps. “Because I didn’t think—”

“No. You didn’t.” Zayne’s voice is cold. “She could’ve gone into cardiac arrest from that kind of impact.”

His palm brushes your temple, fingers sliding back into your hair.

“She still might.”

That’s when you shift. It’s a microscopic movement, but Zayne’s hand is already there, steadying your forehead.

“Hey,” he says, instantly focused, the edge in his voice vanishing. “There she is.”

You blink once, then again—eyes adjusting to the soft lighting of the living room, to the deep ache in your chest, to the feel of something firm and warm beneath your cheek.

Zayne’s lap.

Your head is in his lap.

Behind him, Caleb stands stiffly at the foot of the couch, arms crossed, jaw clenched like he’s holding something back with every cell in his body.

You try to move, but Zayne stops you with a look.

“You passed out,” he says. “Don’t even think about sitting up.”

Caleb’s voice is tighter now, like he’s fighting to stay calm. “She can barely breathe and you’ve got her in your lap?”

“She wasn’t breathing,” Zayne replies evenly. “And her head needs elevation. So unless you suddenly have a medical license—”

“Fuck you,” Caleb mutters.

The silence is thick. Your throat aches. You try to speak, but all that comes out is—

“I’m fine,” you whisper, but it comes out scratchy.

“You’re not,” they both say at the same time.

You’re about to fight back, argue that you can’t feel a thing. But you blink down—and freeze.

You’re wearing one of Zayne’s shirts. One of his favorite medical school tees, oversized and soft with age. Definitely not what you were wearing outside.

Your breath catches in your throat. “Did…Did one of you—?”

Caleb’s already shaking his head. “Zayne did.”

Zayne’s jaw ticks. “You were soaked. You’d passed out. I wasn’t going to leave you in wet clothes to freeze.”

You blink again. You can feel the fabric brushing your bare thighs. Which means your jeans are gone, too.

Heat floods your face.

“I would’ve done it if it were anyone,” Zayne says tightly, misreading your silence. “It wasn’t—it wasn’t like that.”

Your hand strays under the blanket just to be sure. Thank the gods, your underwear is still on. And you chose to wear one of your favorite little black lace thongs this morning.

You’re not sure if that makes things better or worse.

You don’t say anything. Neither do they.

Then Caleb moves.

He drops to a crouch beside you, the cold fire in his expression finally flickering into something else. Guilt, maybe. Or shame. Or something messier than either.

He just stares—like he can’t believe what he’s done. Like he can’t stop replaying it. Like seeing you wrapped in Zayne’s clothes, curled into his lap, is some final punishment he deserves.

His voice is low. Not like before.

“You scared the shit outta me, pipsqueak.”

He doesn’t meet your eyes at first, just folds his forearms on the edge of the couch cushion, fingertips brushing the blanket near your hip like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch you.

“I thought you weren’t gonna wake up,” he says. “I—I thought I’d hit you too hard. Thought I’d…” His throat works. “Thought I broke something I couldn’t fix.”

You don’t know what to say. Especially when Caleb finally looks up, eyes rimmed red at the edges.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” he murmurs. “I swear to god, if I could take it back—”

You reach out before you mean to, your fingers grazing his wrist.

He goes still. So does Zayne.

Caleb doesn’t grab your hand. He doesn’t speak again. He just stares at where you’re touching him like it hurts. Like it means more than he’s ready for. Then, gently—like you’ll break if he breathes wrong—he turns his palm over and curls his fingers around yours.

Zayne shifts behind you, and it’s only then you remember you’re still in his lap. Still wearing his shirt. Still in the middle of a war neither of them will admit you’re at the center of.

You look between them. Caleb, still crouched at your side like he can’t leave, like he won’t. Zayne, rigid but close, your head still resting in his lap like it belongs there.

And suddenly it hits you—how much they both care. How differently they care.

Zayne holds you like a duty he chose. Like a storm he’d rather face head-on than let touch you. Caleb looks at you like he just realized what it means to lose something he never claimed. Like he’d rip the universe into pieces if it meant he had a chance to make you his.

Your hand is still in Caleb’s. Zayne’s hand is still at your hip. And you don’t know which one is harder to let go of.

So you don’t.

You just sit there between them. Half in one world, half in the other. Threaded through with heat and guilt and things no one’s willing to say out loud yet.

Your throat aches with everything you can’t ask. Everything you want to. But all that comes out is a whisper, barely audible: “…I’m okay.”

And you close your eyes. Not because you’re tired.

But because it’s the only way to stop yourself from choosing.

—

You don’t ask why Zayne went out of his way to get tickets.

Not after the last day and a half—after the fall, the bruising, the tension that followed. No one said much, but everything they did was louder than words.

Zayne brought you tea before you could ask. Let you curl against his side while he worked, pulling a blanket over your legs like he’d done it a thousand times. He never mentioned the way you flinched—just checked your temperature twice and frowned when you tried to stand too fast.

And Caleb… Caleb acted like it was a full-time job to make sure you didn’t move. He teased you about milking the injury, sure—but still picked up your laundry basket with one hand and tugged your sock up with the other. Still sat behind you when he put on your favorite holiday movie, letting you lean on his chest like it didn’t drive him insane.

It wasn’t cold between the three of you. Just cautious. Like everyone was waiting for someone to say the wrong thing. Break the fragile truce. Tip the balance.

So when Zayne mentioned the party offhandedly over coffee yesterday morning—barely looked up from his laptop as he said, “There’s a New Year’s thing I thought we could go to. A rooftop party. Linkon skyline, open bar.”—you blinked.

Caleb had raised an eyebrow. You’d just blinked. Zayne doesn’t do parties. He barely does people. But he booked it anyway.

“Thought it’d be good to get out of the house.”

He didn’t say it, but you knew what he meant. After everything…maybe a night out wasn’t such a bad idea.

You don’t question it. You don’t dare. Not when he’s trying, in his own quiet way. Not when Caleb agreed with a shrug and said, “Can’t say no to a free open bar.” Not when it feels like maybe this is the night something shifts—good or bad, you’re not sure.

And maybe that’s why you reach for the dangerously low-cut evening gown that’s been collecting dust in the back of your closet. You thought it might stay there forever. But maybe some part of you always hoped they’d see you in it.

Tonight, you want to feel like more than someone they’re trying not to break. You want to feel like someone worth burning for.

And yeah, maybe you just want to feel hot. Just once.

Not pitied. Not protected. Just—wanted.

So you shimmy into the gown just before nine, smoothing the silky fabric down your hips and adjusting the neckline with a frown. The front dips lower than you remembered—it’s practically a threat.

The zipper, however, is the real problem.

You reach behind you, fingers struggling to tug it up past your waist, but the angle’s all wrong. You try once more, cursing softly under your breath, and—

“Need a hand?” Zayne’s voice is at your door.

You freeze, caught mid-reach. “I—uh—yeah. I can’t get the zipper.”

He says nothing for a beat. Then the door creaks open.

You catch his reflection in the mirror before you feel him. His tall frame comes to stand just behind yours, the scent of clean cologne and cool air curling around you. He’s already dressed, suit perfectly fitted, hair still a little damp from the shower.

You don’t meet his gaze in the mirror. You can’t. Not when his hand slides gently to your back, fingers brushing bare skin.

“This dress is asking for trouble,” he murmurs, voice low.

You try to laugh. “Good thing I’m innocent.”

Zayne doesn’t respond. He begins pulling the zipper up, agonizingly slow, knuckles grazing along your spine like he’s taking his time.

At the halfway point, he pauses. You feel the warmth of his breath near your neck.

“You’re sure you want to go out like this?” he asks quietly.

“Why?” you breathe. “Do I look bad?”

“No,” he says, too fast. “You look perfect.”

You lift your gaze to the mirror, finally, and see the flicker of something hungry in his eyes, barely controlled.

Then the zipper reaches the top. But he doesn’t move away. You feel him, all of him, still behind you, eyes scanning the length of your body—the slit that cuts high on your thigh, the way the silk hugs the curves of your hips and waist just right.

He goes still when his gaze reaches your chest, and it’s not because the draping fabric exposes the sides of your breasts.

Well, not entirely, anyway.

His brow furrows. Then, carefully, his thumb brushes along your sternum.

You suck in a sharp breath as he grazes the bruise that bloomed beneath your collarbone—the one from Caleb’s snowball two days ago. You’d hoped makeup and a deep neckline would distract from it. That you could pretend you were fine.

But Zayne doesn’t miss things. He never has.

You flinch, just slightly, and that’s all it takes.

“You’re still hurt,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

You swallow. “It’s just a bruise.”

“I shouldn’t have made these plans,” he says suddenly. Quiet, but sharp.

You blink. “Zayne—”

“I thought you’d be fine. I thought…” He trails off, breathing through his nose like the words make him sick. “I didn’t think you’d still be flinching. Didn’t think I’d be zipping you into a dress while you’re still in pain.”

You don’t know what to say. It’s rare to see him like this—guilt creeping in around the edges of his otherwise composed expression.

“It’s not your fault,” you say softly.

His reflection in the mirror looks composed, but his hands are trembling.

“I just wanted you to have one night to feel good,” he says. “To feel like yourself again. I thought inviting Caleb would be good for you. Bring something back that you’ve been missing.”

You hadn’t realized how carefully he’d been watching. How much he’d noticed the way your light dimmed these past few months—how the grief had hollowed you out, how the loneliness swallowed you whole.

“I need you to be happy again,” he whispers. His fingers graze the bruise again, so gently you barely feel it. “Even if it’s not because of me.”

You hesitate, heart catching on the words. Because he means it. And because he’s wrong.

“I know I’ve been…off,” you admit. “And I know Caleb brings out this part of me that’s been gone for a while.”

Zayne exhales, slow and shaky. Like he’s bracing for the worst.

“But you make me feel so safe. Steady,” you add. “Like myself, even when I forget who that is. You’ve given me a place to call home. Taken away the pain during some of the lowest points of my life.”

Your voice wobbles. “I don’t always know how to show it,” you admit. “But you make me happy, Zayne.”

He presses a kiss to your hair, breathes you in like he doesn’t want to ever lose this moment.

Then you smile, teasing the mood back to something lighter. “And anyway…it’d be a real shame if this dress never left the house.”

His eyes darken, fingers tightening slightly at your hip.

“It shouldn’t leave this room ,” he says, barely audible. “Not looking like that. Not on you.”

You swallow, lips parting, but stay quiet. You don’t need to ask what he means by that. Because outside of this room—

“Pipsqueak!”

Caleb’s voice booms from down the hall, and you and Zayne spring apart from each other like teenagers who just got caught behind the bleachers, even though nothing actually happened. Still, you feel the weight of Zayne’s gaze lingering on you like it could have.

The door opens before either of you can move.

Caleb steps in, dressed in slacks and a white button-down, holding a black tie in one hand. His eyes land on you first—then flick to Zayne, standing way too close for it to look casual.

His brows lift. “Am I...interrupting something?”

“She needed help with her zipper,” Zayne responds, maybe a little too quickly.

“Right,” Caleb responds, but he doesn’t give Zayne a second glance. He’s only looking at you now. “You look…beautiful.”

Zayne excuses himself, the door clicking shut behind him. You and Caleb are alone now. The silence stretches, heavy and raw.

“So,” Caleb says, voice lighter than his eyes. He holds his tie out to you like a peace offering. “Think you can help me with this? Or should I go ask him, too?”

You step forward and grab it before you can think.

“You always ask me,” you say. “You never learned how to do it yourself?”

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I just like when you do it.”

You step up to your brother, looping the tie around his neck with practiced fingers. His hands settle at your waist, light and familiar. And for a moment, you’re aware of everything—his heartbeat, the lingering smell of Zayne’s cologne, the way your hands tremble slightly as you tug the knot into place.

“Tighter,” Caleb murmurs, low enough that you almost miss it.

You glance up, and he’s already watching you. His eyes don’t move when yours meet them. They just darken—flicking briefly to your mouth before returning to your face.

“Not used to you being this quiet,” he adds, softer now. “You okay?”

You nod, your fingers still working the knot of his tie. But they move slower now. Less sure.

“Just…thinking,” you say.

“About him?”

Your hands still. The knot is nearly done, but you don’t step back yet.

“About everything,” you say finally.

You’re standing so close now, your chest nearly brushing his.

“You know,” he murmurs, voice dropping lower, “I’ve never liked sharing. Not when it comes to you.”

Your breath catches.

His gaze jumps past you, toward the mirror behind you both. You follow it, and realize how close you really are. How your back is slightly arched. How his chest is nearly pressed to yours. How his hands, at some point, found your hips.

“Look at us,” he says, just behind your ear. “You really think anyone else would love you like I do?”

His hands don’t move, but you feel them everywhere. The ghost of them. On your back. Around your throat. Running up your thighs. The places they haven’t dared touch yet—but want to. Desperately.

You inhale too sharply, because you feel it, too. You always have. The kind of love that borders on obsession. That makes you feel like you belong to him—like you always did. The kind of love you’re not supposed to say out loud.

And maybe that’s why you don’t.

You turn to face him slowly, eyes meeting his. And for one terrifying, beautiful second, he thinks you’ll say it. That you’ll surrender.

But instead, your gaze drops to his chest. You fiddle with the edge of his tie like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to sanity.

“I think your tie is all set,” you whisper.

It’s an out. It’s mercy. And it tears something open in both of you.

He lets out a low laugh, like he knows. Like he’s going to let you get away with it—for now.

But this thing between you? It’s not going anywhere. And next time, he won’t let you walk away so easily.

—

You’re slipping on your heels when the lights flicker. Once. Twice. Then—dark.

The apartment goes silent except for the wind howling outside.

“…that’s not good,” Caleb says, straightening from where he’d been lounging by the kitchen counter, champagne bottle in hand.

Zayne’s already at the window, pulling back the curtain. “Shit,” he mutters

The snow is blowing sideways, so thick you can hardly see the outline of the streetlamps.

Caleb lifts a brow. “So…no rooftop countdown?”

Zayne doesn’t answer right away. His eyes are on the snow, calculating.

“It’s not safe,” he says finally. “Even if we could get there, power’s out across half the grid. Roads are iced. No one’s going anywhere tonight.”

You blink. “Wait, seriously?”

Caleb sets the bottle down. “Seriously seriously?”

Zayne finally turns to face you both. “We’re officially snowed in.”

There’s a pause—three overly dressed-up people in the middle of a darkened apartment, surrounded by flickering streetlights and a winter storm.

You’re the first to break it.

“Well,” you say, “this feels like a wildly overdressed sleepover.”

“Could be worse. At least we’ve got champagne,” Caleb grins. “Guess the party’s here now.”

You glance down at yourself—the curve-hugging silk, the neckline that’s barely legal. You’d worn it for a rooftop, not a blackout.

“Guess I should take this off then,” you mutter, mostly to yourself, already turning to head to your room.

“No,” Zayne and Caleb exclaim in perfect unison.

You freeze.

Their voices echo together for a beat too long, until Caleb laughs and runs a hand through his hair. “I mean—I just think you should, uh, give it the night it deserves.”

“I’m just trying to be practical,” you tease. “This is not exactly blizzard-friendly attire.”

“You’re not exactly going outside,” Zayne countered.

Caleb leans back. “Besides,” he adds, “you’re the one who said the dress deserved to be seen.”

You glance between them. The way Zayne avoids your eyes. The way Caleb doesn’t. And suddenly, the snowstorm doesn’t feel quite so inconvenient.

Zayne’s already moving to the supply closet. “I’m getting the candles.”

You blink. “Okay then.”

As his footsteps fade, Caleb lifts an eyebrow and hands you the champagne bottle. “Will you do the honors?”

You take it, fingers curling around the chilled glass. “Bold of you to trust me with this.”

“First time for everything,” he grins.

You eye him over the cork. “Not exactly. Remember New Year’s when I was, what—sixteen?”

His laugh is immediate. “God. When I smuggled us that cheap sparkling wine from Gran’s basement?”

“You called it champagne. You were very insistent.”

“I was trying to impress you.”

You pause mid-twist, looking at him. “It worked.”

The cork pops with a soft thud. You pour, slowly, careful not to spill, and hand him a glass.

Caleb’s smile fades into something gentler. “You were so nervous that night. One sip and you looked at me like the whole world was about to change.”

You shrug, cheeks warming. “It kind of did.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Just the flicker of a memory, the fall of snow against the windows, and the fizz of champagne filling the quiet.

Then the hallway glows—candlelight spilling back in, soft and golden. Zayne steps into the room, arms full of half-melted tea lights and mismatched candle jars. The glow spills across his face, turning the sharp edges warm.

His eyes land on you first—still in that ridiculous dress, holding a half-full champagne flute. Then they flick to Caleb, relaxed on the couch now, glass in hand, smirking like he never left.

“I leave for two minutes,” Zayne says, setting the candles down, “and you two are already drinking?”

You point to your brother. “It was his idea!”

“Guilty,” Caleb says, lifting his glass with a smug grin.

Zayne sighs, but there’s the ghost of a smile at the corner of his mouth. He reaches for the bottle and pours himself a glass.

“Since we’re stuck here,” he says, raising his glass, “we might as well make the most of it.”

The three of you gather around the counter, lifting your glasses in a toast.

“To old traditions,” Caleb says.

“To unexpected nights,” Zayne adds.

You look between the two of them for a moment too long before murmuring, “To both of you. To us.”

“To us,” they respond, the three of your glasses clinking together softly.

There's a warmth in your chest now—part champagne, part something else.

“Sooooo,” you say, voice light as you set your glass down. “Now what?”

Caleb downs the rest of his glass. “Well, we could sit here and talk about our feelings—”

“Please, no,” Zayne deadpans.

“—or,” Caleb continues, undeterred, “we could play something.”

Zayne arches a brow. “You brought board games?”

“No, old man. I was thinking…,” Caleb grins, reaching for the champagne. “Truth or sip.”

Your eyes widen. “Seriously?”

“You said it yourself—wildly overdressed sleepover,” he shrugs. “It’s tradition.”

You glance at Zayne, expecting resistance. But instead, he just takes another slow sip of champagne and says, “Fine. But no lying.”

A shiver of anticipation curls low in your stomach.

“Deal,” you say, already bracing. “Who goes first?”

The three of you drift into the living room, gathering around the candlelight like moths. Caleb sinks easily onto the rug in front of the couch, stretching his legs out and tugging a throw blanket over them. You follow, folding yourself beside him, your shoulder brushing his in a way that feels both familiar and new. Zayne takes the armchair across from you, one elbow resting on the armrest, long legs stretched out. A little more distant—but his gaze never strays far from you.

Caleb lifts his glass with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Alright. I’ll start.”

You and Zayne exchange a look—his is more suspicious than yours.

Caleb turns to you, grin widening. “When was the last time you had a crush?”

Your hand tightens slightly around your glass. “Define crush.”

“You know,” he says casually. “Butterflies. Staring too long. Thinking about someone when you shouldn’t.”

Zayne doesn’t say a word, but he shifts in his chair.

You hesitate, pulse ticking up. “…Can there be more than one answer?”

“Only if it’s recent.”

You glance between the two of them—your brother, who’s always known you too well, and Zayne, whose gaze feels like it could burn through you if you let it.

Then you lift the glass and take a sip.

Caleb groans. “Coward.”

You smirk over the rim. “I’m choosing peace.”

Zayne leans forward slightly, resting an arm on the side of the chair. “My turn?”

Caleb raises a brow. “Go for it.”

Zayne’s eyes flick to Caleb. “What was your impression of me the first time we met?”

Caleb barks a laugh. “Easy. Thought you were boring as hell.”

You snort into your drink.

“But,” Caleb adds, “I also figured you were the only guy in town smart enough not to flirt with my sister.”

The pause that follows is heavy. You don’t look at Zayne, but you feel him.

“Well,” Caleb sighs. “Guess that aged poorly.”

Zayne doesn’t deny it.

You clear your throat. “My turn.”

You turn to Zayne. “What did you think when you saw me in this dress?”

Zayne’s jaw clenches. Caleb chokes on his drink.

Zayne meets your gaze across the candlelight, slow and steady. “That I was going to have a problem.”

Your stomach flips. Caleb coughs into his glass again.

“Your turn,” Zayne says to him calmly, as if he didn’t just wreck the room.

A few rounds pass like that. Laughter builds, champagne flows, and the questions shift from innocent to reckless faster than the candle wax can melt.

You learn Caleb once stole your middle school crush’s number out of your phone and prank-called him. You learn Zayne once got suspended in high school—something about pulling a fire alarm for a friend to get out of their math test. And when Caleb asks who your first kiss was, you drink. No one complains.

By the time another bottle’s been opened, you’ve all stopped pretending this is just nostalgia.

Zayne leans back, cradling his glass loosely in one hand. “We should raise the stakes.”

Caleb eyes him. “What, like stripping?”

Zayne doesn’t dignify that with a response.

You smirk. “What do you mean?”

“Add dares,” Zayne says simply. “If someone won’t do it, they take a sip.”

You nearly spit out your drink. "Are you drunk?"

Zayne just shrugs. "Maybe a little."

"You hate games," Caleb says, glancing at you with mock horror. “Who are you and what have you done with our buzzkill?”

"I don't hate games," Zayne corrects. "I hate losing."

Caleb groans, pretending to think hard, then narrows his eyes at Zayne. “Fine. Dare.”

Zayne’s voice is deceptively calm. “I dare you to whisper something to her. Something you’ve never said out loud.”

That gets Caleb’s attention. His grin falters, just slightly.

“That’s dangerous,” he says. But he sets down his glass.

Zayne shrugs, sipping his drink. “So is champagne.”

Your pulse stutters.

Caleb looks at you. Really looks at you. Candlelight paints the sharp lines of his jaw, the glint in his eyes.

Then, without breaking your gaze, he leans in.

His lips brush the shell of your ear, and his voice drops so low you feel it more than hear it:

“I used to dream about you in this dress before it ever existed.”

You freeze. Heat rushes to your face, your spine, the space between your thighs.

He leans back like he didn’t just knock the air out of your lungs. Zayne’s jaw is tight.

It’s your turn next. And they’re both looking at you like they already know you’re going to make a mistake.

You set your glass down with a clink and stretch your legs out in front of you, wriggling your toes.

“My turn,” you say, pretending to think hard. “Okay…I dare both of you to take off one of my shoes.”

They both blink.

“What?” Caleb laughs.

You shrug. “My feet hurt. I didn’t know I’d be stranded in five-inch heels.”

Zayne cocks his head, slow. “You’re serious.”

“Completely,” you say, lifting one leg and pointing dramatically. “Left and right, please.”

Caleb shifts forward first, crawling just enough to reach your feet. His hand curves around your ankle, warm and steady, and you feel it in your chest. Long fingers brush warm against your skin as he unclasps the strap and eases the shoe off, slow and careful.

Zayne doesn’t move at first. Just watches. Then he sets his glass down and crosses the distance like it’s nothing. His touch is more clinical, but no less gentle—his thumb pressing just slightly into the arch of your foot as he slides the heel free.

The second shoe hits the floor with a quiet thunk.

You swallow. The room feels warmer now.

“Well,” you say, voice thinner than you meant. “Thank you.”

Caleb’s next, and he turns his attention straight to you.

He pretends to think. Then—

“I dare you to drink champagne…” His eyes go to Zayne, then back to you. “From both of us.”

You stare at him, confused. “Like—from your glasses?”

Caleb just smirks. “Not quite.”

Zayne stiffens. “Caleb,” he says, low. A warning.

“What?” Caleb laughs. “It’s just a dare. One sip from my mouth, one from yours. Nothing she can’t handle.”

Your mouth goes dry.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re stalling.”

You glance at Zayne, expecting him to shut it down. But he doesn’t.

He just…holds your gaze. Silent. Still. Waiting.

Your heart slams.

“Fine,” you mutter. “Let’s get it over with.”

Caleb leans forward first, barely suppressing his grin. He takes a sip—just enough to pool behind his lips—and tilts his chin.

You move in slowly, bracing one hand against his chest. You feel his heartbeat race against your palm, kicking fast as you bring your lips to his. And when your mouths touch, he lets you take it—smooth, cold champagne passed between you like a secret.

His breath catches as it happens. His hand hovers at your waist but doesn’t touch. He wants to. You feel it in the way he exhales like he’s been punched.

And when you pull back, he doesn’t move for a second. Just looks at you like he’s seeing something he’s wanted for a long time and can’t believe he’s feeling.

The room tilts slightly, or maybe it’s just your pulse crashing in your ears. That wasn’t a kiss—not really. Not by definition. And yet—Oh, my god. You just kissed him.

Not on the cheek. Not by accident. Mouth to mouth. Lips to lips. Champagne flowed between you, but it’s not the drink that’s making your head spin.

Caleb’s still staring. Like he doesn’t want to look away, in case this was a dream. Like if he blinks, he’ll wake up.

And he’s not grinning now. Not teasing. Not cocky.

Just wrecked.

His eyes drop to your mouth, like he’s remembering exactly how it felt. Then flick up to yours—searching for a sign. For permission. For regret.

You don’t know what you’re showing on your face, but your heart is doing something violent in your chest. Because it wasn’t supposed to feel like that. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. It was a dare. A game.

So why does your skin still burn where he touched you? Why can’t you look away?

Why does it feel like you just crossed a line you can’t uncross?

Caleb finally shifts back, running a hand through his hair like it might cool him down. But his knuckles are pink. His ears are red. His whole body is buzzing, and you can feel it across the space between you.

You drag your gaze to the floor. But you don’t have any more time to process it.

Zayne is already standing.

He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t blink. Just takes a slow sip, his throat working as he holds it behind closed lips. Then he crosses the room.

When he stops in front of you, he cups your jaw, guiding you to your feet. Your hands find his shoulders, solid and unmoving beneath your palms. You feel the tension in him. Every nerve coiled. Every instinct leashed.

You tilt your head back instinctively, inviting him in without words. He leans down until your lips meet.

Zayne is restraint incarnate. His touch is steady. But everything else—his breath, the tremble at the corner of his mouth, the way he holds perfectly still as you take the sip from him—betrays the storm inside him.

The taste is barely there. But the feeling lingers forever.

When he pulls away, your lips are still parted. He reaches up without thinking, thumb dragging slowly across your bottom lip.

“You missed a drop,” he whispers. He’s too quiet, too close. But he doesn’t pull away.

Instead, he brings that same thumb to his lips—and closes his mouth around it.

His eyes flutter shut. Just for a second. When they open again, they’re darker.

You don’t breathe until he steps back, jaw clenched, hands fisted at his sides like he doesn’t trust them.

No one speaks.

Caleb clears his throat and pours another drink. “Fun,” he tries to say, but it’s hoarse. Almost angry. “You’re up, doc.”

Zayne returns to his seat, eyes never leaving you. He doesn’t even blink. “Who are you planning to kiss at midnight?”

Fuck.

“I hadn’t thought about it,” you respond. Because it’s the truth. Because even in your wildest dreams you’ve never let yourself imagine that you’d get to kiss one of the favorite men in your life, let alone both of them.

Zayne hums. “Think about it now.”

Your eyes dart between them. Neither one is smiling now. “That’s not fair.”

Zayne shrugs again, but something in his jaw ticks. “Didn’t say it was.”

You glance at the digital clock on the emergency radio. 11:42. Less than twenty minutes left. Midnight is coming. You have to pick someone, and they both know it.

That doesn’t mean you have to pick now, though.

So you drink.

When you set your glass down, there’s nothing left. Not even a drop.

Zayne’s eyes flick to the empty glass. Caleb stares, fingers flexing around his own drink.

And that’s when it hits you. You don’t get to dodge anything anymore. No more sips to hide behind. No more stalling.

Your heart pounds.

Caleb leans forward slightly. “Guess that was your last out,” he murmurs, voice quiet but tense.

You glance at the clock. 11:45. Only fifteen minutes left.

“Guess so,” your voice is barely above a whisper. You clear your throat before continuing. “Well, lucky for me, it’s my turn.”

The two men stare back at you, waiting for your next command with bated breath.

“I have a question for both of you, then,” you say slowly, building up confidence in preparation for what you're about to ask next. “If I asked you to kiss me…tell me how you’d do it.”

The room stills. Even the candlelight seems to pause.

Caleb looks at you like he’s not sure you’re serious. Then he sees your face—how you’re not backing down—and something in him shifts.

“I’d take my time,” he says. “Let you feel every second of it.”

Your throat goes dry, eyes wide. You don’t expect his response to come so easily.

“You think I haven’t thought about it?” Caleb’s voice is low, almost casual—but his eyes are locked on yours like he’s daring you to run.

“If I kissed you,” he says, shifting just slightly closer, “it wouldn’t be careful.”

His glass tips slightly in his hand, long forgotten. “I wouldn’t ease into it like I was afraid to scare you off. I’d pull you into me so fuckin' close—so close you couldn’t leave.”

Your pulse skips a beat.

“I’d hold the back of your neck. Thumb right here—” he gestures gently along the hinge of his own jaw, “just enough pressure to remind you I’m not letting go.”

His voice drops even lower, his eyes dark and wild in the candlelight.

“I’d kiss you like I already knew what you tasted like. Like I’ve imagined it too many times to get it wrong.”

He exhales. “Because I have.”

You feel it—physically, like heat pooling low in your stomach.

Zayne hasn’t moved. He’s still seated in the chair, elbows on his knees, watching the flicker of flame like it’s the only thing keeping him sane. When he speaks, it’s quiet. Like he’s choosing each word with a scalpel.

“I’d back you into the wall.”

Your head snaps toward him.

“Not hard. Just…enough.”

“I wouldn’t touch you. Not at first. I’d let you feel it. The closeness. My breath on your lips. The wait,” his voice dips. “I’d wait until you asked me. Until you begged me.”

Heat flashes through your chest. Zayne’s gaze flicks down—to your mouth, your neck—then returns to your eyes.

“Then I’d kiss you slow. Hold your face in my hands,” he pauses, like the thought alone overwhelms him. “Press my mouth to yours so deep you forget where you are. Who else is in the room.”

Caleb lets out a humorless laugh at that, but you don’t hear it.

“I’d kiss you like I’ve tried not to,” he went on, his voice growing rougher around the edges. “Like I’d forget every rule I’ve made for myself.”

“Enough,” Caleb snaps. The word cuts through the room like glass breaking.

Zayne goes still. Caleb doesn’t even look at him. His eyes are locked on you—burning, unreadable, muscles tensing like he’s barely keeping something down.

“My turn,” he says, voice tight. “One last dare.”

You try to breathe. Of course you can’t.

“You pick.”

Your heart trips over itself.

“Pick what?”

Caleb’s gaze flickers down to your lips, then back up.

“Who gets your kiss.”

You peek at the clock. 11:59.

“It’s your dare,” Caleb murmurs. “And your choice.”

They both move at once.

Not fast—just a slow, inescapable convergence. Like gravity. Like heat drawn to heat. Caleb rises from where he’s been sitting on the floor, eyes never leaving yours. Zayne doesn’t speak, doesn’t breathe. He just stands—shoulders squaring as he closes the distance, like he’s already preparing to be chosen or destroyed.

Your breath stutters. They’re both in front of you now. Close enough to touch you. Close enough to ruin you.

Caleb’s voice is low, frayed. “Just say it.”

Zayne’s eyes scan over your face. “Or don’t.”

The final seconds tick down.

Ten. Nine. Eight.

You’re trembling, chest tight. You could say a name. You could stop this. But you don’t.

Five. Four. Three.

Then—

Two.

Their shoulders brush. Neither backs down.

One.

Midnight.

—

No one moves. Until they both do.

Caleb’s hand finds your jaw at the exact same time Zayne’s thumb brushes your cheekbone. Your breath hitches—caught in the no man’s land between them—as two sets of eyes lock on you like you’re a sin they’re both ready to commit.

Caleb’s hand tightens ever so slightly, tilting your face toward him.

“You waited too long,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours—not quite a kiss, but not not one, either. It’s a warning. A claim. A threat and a promise. “Happy New Year, meimei .”

And then he takes your mouth.

Not gently. Not sweet. It’s possessive—like he’s afraid if he doesn’t do it now, Zayne will.

His mouth crushes into yours, heat and hunger and years of not yet all flooding in at once. You gasp, and he uses it—drinks you in like he’s parched, tongue claiming yours like you were meant for this. Meant for him.

He pulls away to look at you, at the way you’re already falling apart for your brother after just one kiss. His mouth is all over your neck, kissing your cheeks, your nose, the tips of your ears.

“You know I’d do anything for you, pretty girl,” he breathes, tongue darting out to trace the sensitive part behind your earlobe. “So why’d you make me wait this long?”

But just as quickly as it starts, Zayne is there. He doesn’t pull Caleb off you. Doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. Instead, his fingers trail from your cheek to your throat, the touch sending shockwaves to your core, and you feel your body tip toward him before you even register the movement.

“Did he give you what you wanted?”

The air leaves your lungs in a sharp, trembling breath. Caleb tenses beside you, cursing through gritted teeth.

Zayne lifts one hand, thumb dragging along your bottom lip like he wiped the champagne. But he doesn’t stop there this time. He presses inward, just enough to part your lips. Just enough for the pad of his thumb to slip past your teeth.

“No? Pity,” he says, but there’s no softness to his voice.

You feel your body go still, every nerve ending tuned to the weight of him on your tongue. Caleb growls low beside you, but Zayne doesn’t even look at him. His focus is entirely on you.

He presses in deeper.

“Then ask.”

Your lips part wider, a soft noise escaping as he finally pulls his thumb free. The absence hurts more than the pressure did.

“Please,” you whisper. You don’t even know what you're asking for. You just know that you need it now .

Zayne barely tilts his head—like he’s deciding whether to give it to you—when Caleb moves. His arm snakes around your waist and yanks you back against him, hard enough to steal your breath.

“ No ,” Caleb nearly snarls, arm caging you tighter against him. “Don’t beg him.”

You feel Zayne shift in front of you—closer. Not competing. Waiting. The energy between them is like two storms circling the same eye.

“What happened to that little mouth of yours, huh?” Caleb’s voice is meaner, hot and taunting against your neck. “Now you wanna be quiet? Or did he already fuck the fight out of you with just his thumb?”

You try to turn your head, but Caleb’s hand is already there—fisting in your hair, tilting your face toward him.

“Nah,” he snaps. “You don’t get to hide now. Not after the way you looked at him.”

His thumb swipes your lip rougher than Zayne’s did, like he’s trying to erase the touch.

Then his mouth is back on yours, tongue licking deep against you like he’s trying to mark you from the inside out—claim every soft sound you make before Zayne can hear it. He drinks in your gasps, bites the edge of your lip like a warning, and silences whatever protest you might’ve had.

It’s so overwhelming that you don’t feel the zipper at first.

Not until the fabric at your back loosens, cool air replacing warmth, your dress slipping inch by inch.

“You can let him have your mouth,” Zayne’s teeth graze your ear. “Everything else is mine.”

Your lips part in surprise against Caleb’s, but it’s already happening. Zayne’s fingers trace the length of your spine, but his hand is soon replaced by his lips. He kisses the small of your back, the space between your shoulder blades, the base of your neck, each one hotter and longer and more agonizingly delicious.

Caleb pulls back just enough to drag your dress lower, baring your shoulders, then your chest, until the fabric pools loosely at your waist. Normally, you’d feel the urge to cover yourself, to hide your body from your brother. Your guardian. But your focus is already elsewhere, too overwhelmed to feel exposed.

“Zayne,” you whisper, turning halfway, reaching for him.

He doesn’t let you kiss him.

Instead, one hand finds your waist, holding you still. The other rises to your chin, tilting your head back just enough to make you feel helpless. His mouth brushes your jaw, your cheekbone—everywhere but your lips.

“You want it?” he asks softly, like he’s asking about more than just a kiss.

You nod. Desperately.

“Then say it.”

Before you can respond, Caleb’s hand slides up your bare waist, just under your breast. He slides his thumb slowly across your nipple, teasing the sensitive skin there. The sensation causes you to gasp, your eyes fluttering shut, back arching instinctively into the warm, broad body behind you. But Zayne doesn’t flinch.

“Eyes on me. You know what I want to hear,” Zayne murmurs, voice dark with command. “Don’t make me take it without asking.”

Your breath catches on the shame of it. The need.

“I—” you whisper. But it’s not enough.

Zayne’s fingers tangle in the hair at the base of your neck, like he might take it anyway.

So you give in.

“Zayne, please,” you beg, and you can already feel his lips curve in satisfaction. “Kiss me. Touch me. Anything, just…I—I can’t take it anymore.”

Whatever was holding him back finally breaks.

“So beautiful,” his breath mixes with yours. “Open for me.”

You do. Of course you do.

And then he’s on you. Tongue sweeping in, mouth dragging yours open wider, deeper, until you’re trembling in his hold. He doesn’t rush. He devours. He teaches your mouth exactly how he wants it.

You melt against him, back arching, head tipping, lips parting wider as he sucks on your bottom lip. It’s not gentle. It’s not soft. It’s everything.

Caleb’s hands are firmer now, like he needs to remind you he’s still here. Still watching. Still the one who saw you first. His mouth is on your breast now, his teeth finding your nipple, biting down just hard enough to draw out a moan.

Zayne pulls back suddenly, breathing hard, forehead resting against yours.

“This is wrong,” he pants. His voice is low, shaky. “You’re too young. You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

He closes his eyes, like it hurts to even look at you, at the way you’d give him anything he’d ask for.

“But I do. And I’ve wanted it for way too long to be gentle about it now.”

His eyes flick down to your mouth.

“I’ve thought about that mouth. About you. For years. And now that I’ve had a taste…” He swallows hard. “I’m not going to be able to stop.”

You’re panting, lips kiss-bruised, eyes wide. Your dress is hitched around your waist, straps fallen, spine pressed against Zayne’s chest like you’re trying to hold yourself upright—but it’s barely working.

Then Caleb kneels.

He doesn’t ask. Just sinks to the floor in front of you with a look that’s all hunger and heat and something darker. His hands slide up your thighs, under the slit of your dress, finding the curve of your ass.

“She doesn’t want you to stop,” he says without looking up, voice thick. “She’s already begged enough.”

You whimper as his fingers curl into the fabric at your waist, dragging it down inch by inch.

“She’ll tell us what she wants,” Zayne murmurs, breath brushing your ear. “Won’t you, angel?”

His thumb strokes over your pulse, lazily. Dangerous.

“But you already got what you wanted, didn’t you? My kiss? Your brother’s tongue in your mouth?” His lips ghost over the shell of your ear, his filthy words making your thighs press together involuntarily. “Wasn’t that enough?”

You shake your head, frantic, eyes flicking down to where Caleb has the dress bunched at your hips.

“More,” you whisper. “Please—I need more. I need both of you.”

The words hang in the air, trembling like they’ve been waiting to be said. Then everything between you shifts.

It’s Zayne who speaks first.

“If that’s what you need,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, “then that’s what you’ll have.”

You nod, breath catching. But it’s not Zayne you’re afraid of.

It’s Caleb.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him. Not at first. Because what if he thinks it’s too much? What if needing both of them makes you selfish? What if it ruins everything?

But then you feel his hand—reaching, grounding, curling gently around your wrist. He stands up, and when you finally lift your eyes to him, Caleb’s already looking at you like he knew. Like he’s always known.

He steps in closer, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I’ve imagined a hundred ways to have you,” he murmurs. “And none of them looked like this.”

He kisses you then, hard, leaving you breathless. Like he just remembered that he could and didn’t want to waste it.

“I should be mad. Furious,” he says, breath hot and shaky against yours. “But all I feel is relief.”

It’s you that kisses him this time, and the low, broken sound he makes when your lips find his burns deep in your chest.

“I’ll take it,” he groans. “I’ll take anything you give me.”

“She asked for both of us,” Zayne says, gaze steady on Caleb. “So that’s what we give her.”

“Yeah,” Caleb nods once, but his eyes don’t leave yours. “Whatever she wants. I’m in.”

And for the first time, you don’t feel like you’re asking too much. You feel like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

Both sets of hands are on you now—Zayne’s on your neck, your shoulders, your spine, Caleb’s trailing down your throat, your chest, your stomach. And both sets of hands stop where your dress has fallen at your hips.

“Show us what’s ours,” Caleb says, fingers curling around the silk fabric that still keeps the most intimate part of you covered.

And with one sharp tug, the fabric pools at your ankles—and everyone stops breathing.

Because under your dress, you’re bare. No silk, no lace. Just you, naked and throbbing and embarrassingly wet.

You never would have gone without underwear had you known. You never thought it could get this far. You just didn’t want panty lines.

And now the two men who are supposed to be your protectors are circling you like prey.

“ Fuck ,” Caleb breathes, his voice wrecked. “You were this ready for us?”

You start to shift—to cover yourself, maybe, to escape—but Caleb’s hands catch your wrist before you can hide.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls. “Not after letting us see you like this. Not after giving us this.”

“I didn’t mean to—” you whisper.

But even you don’t believe it.

“No?” Zayne’s fingers glide up your ribs. “You think we don’t notice? How you look at us? How you walk around this house with wide eyes and those tiny fucking sleep shorts like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing?”

“I—I don’t know what I’m doing,” you stammer. And you mean it. You’re not playing games. You never were.

But you always wanted to be noticed. Wanted them to notice.

“Then maybe it’s time we show you,” Caleb murmurs, tilting your chin up with two fingers. “What it does to a man. What you do to a man. To us.”

Before you can register the movement, you’re hauled into Zayne’s lap, the two of you seated on the armchair. Your brother kneels between your knees, forcing them wider.

“God, you really didn’t know what you've done, do you?” Caleb groans, trailing kisses up your thigh. “What you've been doing to us for years?”

You try to close your legs, shy, uncertain—but they don’t let you. Zayne’s hands are unmoving, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh of your inner thighs, keeping you open. Caleb’s hands stay firm on your knees, holding you right where he wants you.

“Look at him,” Zayne growls in your ear. “He hasn’t even touched you yet. Hasn’t even tasted how sweet you are, and he's already shaking.”

He's right. Caleb hasn’t touched you, not where you really want him to. But he’s getting closer with each movement, with each open-mouthed kiss he presses between your legs, across your hips, low on your stomach.

When Caleb finally traces his finger across the seam of you, featherlight, you practically scream.

You can’t help yourself, not when you’d only ever imagined what it’d feel like for someone to touch you there. Not when the one to finally do it was the man you were never supposed to want.

And certainly not when you feel the cock of the man who had taken you in press hard and heavy through his slacks against your back.

“Shh,” Zayne leans forward to kiss your temple, but the shift only pushes him against you harder, the friction unbearable. He locks his arm around your waist, caging you against him in an attempt to stop your squirming. “It’s okay to let go. It’s just us three.”

You nod, then shake your head. You don’t know what you’re feeling, or if you’re doing anything right. You just don’t want it to stop.

Caleb’s mouth is so close to you now that you feel his voice more than you can hear it.

“You’d let me, right, meimei?” With the way he looks at you now, eyes wild and desperate, you don't care what question comes next. The answer is already yes. “You’d let me touch you? Just once? Just tonight?”

You don't answer with words. Your hips tilt towards him instinctively, and that's all the invitation he needs.

“ Yes ,” you gasp, but his two fingers are already inside you, curling slow and deep and punishing. It’s already too much. Not enough.

When his tongue finds your clit without warning, you nearly come undone then and there.

Your head falls back against Zayne’s shoulder with a moan. His hand, warm and strong, kneads your breast in encouragement.

“That’s it. You’re being so good for us,” he praises. “You love this, don’t you? Feeling your big brother inside you?”

You want to cry yes , but you can hardly focus on the words. Your attention is too tied up in the feel of Zayne’s length grinding up against your backside now in a steady rhythm, all while Caleb’s mouth and fingers claim your cunt like he’d die if he stopped.

“You’re so fucking responsive,” he murmurs against you, the vibration of his words only teasing you more. “Every sound you make, every time you clench—I feel it, baby. Fuck, I feel all of it.”

You don’t know how much more of it you can take, just know that you feel an aching emptiness where Caleb had been when he finally pulls away. He laughs when he sees your expression—breathless and flushed and wrecked—and pulls you up to stand with him.

Your older brother just stares at you in awe for a moment, the two of your panting breaths filling the silence. His lips are shining with your slick pleasure, visible even in the dim candlelight. When the corners of them turn up in a prideful smirk, you playfully push him away.

“You said it was just a touch,” you pout, teasing.

He pulls you back into his chest in one possessive move. “Didn’t say it’d just be my fingers.”

Your lips part to respond, but his mouth covers yours before you can get a word out. He licks your tongue with his, over and over and over again, until all you can taste is the heat of the way he made you come apart.

“Mmm, fuck ,” he mutters hot against you. “You’ve been keeping this from me? All this time?“

He holds your jaw, then drags his tongue across your bottom lip like he’s savoring the taste. You whimper, and he only holds you tighter.

“You won’t be able to hide anymore, sweetheart. Not when I know what’s under those pretty little dresses,” his teeth graze your jaw as he speaks like you’re something holy. “It’s mine now. It’s always been mine.”

Your world is turned upside-down before you can finish listening to his sentence.

Literally.

Zayne’s strong arms haul you over his shoulder, his grip firm and steady across your bare thighs. He’s shirtless now, the press of his skin against yours sending electric heat between your legs.

“Zayne!” you yell, wriggling in his grasp. “What are you—“

He slaps your ass, hard, and you cry out. He’s already soothing it with gentle circles of his palm, turning his head just enough to kiss your side. You're halfway to his bedroom before you can even say anything about it.

“My turn.”

You’re down the hall in a few strides, Caleb already stripping out of his dress clothes as he follows behind you. You only breathe again once you’re laid out on Zayne’s king bed, the soft sheets cool against your back, the faint yellow of the streetlamp illuminating you in a warm glow.

Once Zayne takes off his pants, he doesn’t move right away. He stands at the edge of the bed beside you, palming his cock over his boxers, eyes dragging over you like he’s deciding whether you earned the right to lie there.

“ Fuck , look at you,” he murmurs, eyes hungry, reverent. “This is how I always wanted to see you. Open for me where you belong.”

Before you can cover yourself with the blanket, Zayne grabs your wrist and pulls you upright. Then he shifts back and sits, legs spread long, beckoning you forward with two fingers.

“Come here.”

You hesitate, but something in his gaze makes your body obey before your mind can catch up. You crawl forward, flushed and trembling, until you’re straddling his lap—bare and open and completely at his mercy. He leans back slightly, one hand sliding up your thigh, the other resting at your waist.

Your hands hover near his chest, uncertain.

“Can I—” you start, then trail off, unsure where the line is anymore. Unsure what you’re allowed to want.

His hands move to cover yours, pressing them gently to his chest. He guides them lower, over the smooth, hard lines of his abs, down to the waistband of his underwear. He seems in control, the way he’s showing you where to touch. But the shake of his breath and the tension in his brow say otherwise.

“You can,” he whispers, and his hands release yours. The next move is up to you, now.

Caleb’s hand at your back grounds you, gives you a moment to take everything in. You turn to your brother, in nothing but tight black boxer briefs that do little to hide his erection. The sight of it makes your core throb, and you’d do anything to see it uncovered.

“You’re in charge, yeah?” Caleb assures you. “Take what you need. All of it. Make him beg for it.”

You don’t know exactly what you need. Not yet. But you do know that you hate being the most underdressed person in the room.

Your fingers tighten around Zayne’s waistband, your gaze shifting between the two men. Zayne nods in approval. Caleb’s hands find his own waistband, but he doesn’t move yet. Like he’s waiting for you to direct the pace of things.

You drag Zayne’s boxers down his hips, unable to quiet the gasp that escapes when you see his bare length for the first time, heavy and full of want. Caleb follows, his own cock springing free as he sheds the last of his clothes.

Your lips part without meaning to, and you don’t know where to look first. They’re both so impressive, bigger than you dreamed they would be, thick and throbbing, with veins you instinctually wanted to trace with your tongue.

You swallow once, your throat suddenly dry. “I didn’t think—I mean, I figured, but…seeing you like this…”

“You figured, did you, now?” Zayne teases, stroking himself as he watches you in awe. “So you’ve thought about this before?”

Your cheeks burn red, but there’s no use in denying it now. You want to know what they feel like, want to know if they’ll be just as affected by your touch as you are by theirs. You just don’t know who to touch first.

So you don’t choose.

You wrap one hand around Caleb, and his knees nearly buckle at the contact. He grabs onto the headboard to steady himself. Your other hand finds Zayne, moving up and down the length of him like you watched him do to himself.

“Harder, angel,” Zayne instructs, eyes dark with need. “It’s not going to break.”

At that, you pump them both with more force, your grip more confident now. You don’t know where to look—at Caleb, who watches you like he regrets even blinking if it means missing the sight, or Zayne, who looks at you like he’s imagined this moment a million times before tonight.

As if sensing your internal dilemma, Zayne smiles, pulling your hand away. You frown, your other hand still loosely wrapped around Caleb.

“Am I doing it wrong?”

“ No ,” the men reply instantly, reassuring you. That’s a relief.

Zayne grabs you by the hips, pulling you closer to him, so close that you can feel the heat of his cock inside your thighs.

“There are ways to make it easier, though,” he says. But you’re still confused.

You tilt your head. “Easier…?”

Caleb gathers your hair in his hand, turning your head to face him. You can see every pulse of his hard length this close. You look up, trying your hardest not to stare. Caleb only smiles.

“If it’s wet, you can move faster,” he tells you.

You think back to his mouth on you, and your stomach flips.

Your eyes catch the prominent vein, the one you want to lick but you don’t know why. It‘s right there, just in front of your mouth. You don’t ask before wetting your lips, don’t give them any chance to tell you it’s wrong.

You press your tongue against the underside of his cock, tracing the vein slowly. Caleb lets out a low curse, his grip on your hair tightening. You blink up at him, mouth parted, eyes wide.

“Like this?” you ask genuinely, and that only makes it worse.

He forces his eyes shut. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m not gonna last.”

You take that as a sign to keep going, wrapping your lips around the tip and sucking softly, his precum salty and warm on your tongue. You find a steady rhythm, taking him deeper and deeper until he hits the back of your throat.

The stretch of him leaves your jaw aching, tears stinging behind your lashes. But you’ve never felt better. Never knew of a pain that could feel so, so good. You moan around his cock, and his entire body shudders.

He pulls out suddenly, releasing his hand in your hair and running it through his own, staring at the ceiling like it’ll save him from ruin. You don’t know why he stopped. You thought you were doing a good job.

“You were going to kill him if you kept going like that,” Zayne’s voice, warm and easy, interrupts your spiraling thoughts. “You were perfect. So perfect.”

You turn your attention to him now, preparing to take him in your mouth next. But he stops you with a hand at your jaw before you can shift lower.

“But I want to be perfect for you, too,” you blink up at Zayne, so desperate to make him unravel as well.

“You already are,” he grits out, voice wrecked. “God, you always are.”

He brings your face close to his, close enough to kiss you, but stopping just before.

“But there’s another way to get it wet.”

Your heart is beating so hard, you’re sure they can hear it.

“Show me,” you whisper.

And that’s all it takes.

He lifts you up by the waist, flipping you onto your hands and knees. You face Caleb at this angle, your brother cupping your face so softly, like he still can’t believe you’re real.

“You’re gonna take him, pretty girl. And I’m gonna let you,” he tells you, and it’s the most serious you’ve seen him all night. “But if you so much as flinch the wrong way, he won’t get to finish a breath.”

You nod, although you’re not quite sure what you’re agreeing to. Not until you feel the unmistakable press of Zayne’s cock against your entrance.

You gasp at the pressure of it, and he didn’t even go inside of you. Your reaction makes Zayne smirk.

“You’re trembling,” he says. “Still think you can handle it?”

You nod, shifting your hips back in an attempt to feel more of him. But Zayne pulls away.

“Words, sweetheart,” he commands. “I need to hear you say it.”

“I—” you start. “I want to feel you, Zayne.”

Caleb strokes your cheek, the movement keeping you calm. “Want to feel what? Tell him.”

“I want to feel Zayne’s—” you hesitate, afraid to say the rest. “Zayne’s cock.”

Zayne groans at your admission, rewarding you with a slow drag of the head of him against your slick folds. He taps it against your clit once, twice, already making you clench around nothing. And when he finally presses in—just an inch—you need Caleb to hold you steady.

“You need to tell him where you want it,” he says. You watch as your brother touches himself at the sight of you, spread and begging for another man, and the sight alone nearly breaks you. “Tell him exactly what you need. Make him give it to you.”

“Zayne, p—please, I need you to fuck me,” your raw need outweighs any of the shame you felt a few minutes ago. “Oh, please, Zayne, I need your cock in my—”

If he had any ounce of self-control left, it evaporated the second he heard the words I need you and fuck me come out of your innocent little mouth. He fills you completely with a single thrust, and you cry out at the feel of him, deep and hot inside you.

“ Fuck ,” Zayne curses, grabbing your hips so hard you suspect they’ll bruise. “I knew you’d be tight, but fuck —you’re unbelievable.”

“You knew, did you now?” You say coyly, unable to resist teasing him the way he did you, but it comes out more breathless than you mean it to. “So you’ve thought about this before?”

Unlike you, though, Zayne doesn’t avoid the question.

He makes sure you hear his answer.

“I’ve thought about it, angel,” he says. “About the way you’d sound when you begged for me.”

He rolls his hips, and you whimper.

“How pretty you’d look when you’d spread your legs for me.”

His next thrust is shallow, almost cruel.

“How long you’d last once I got my mouth on your perfect little cunt.”

Another thrust.

“And especially,” he pulls out almost entirely, “how fucking good you’d feel coming around my cock while you cried my name.”

He slams into you—hard—pumping into you again and again and again.

“Zayne, I—”

You try to turn your head, but you’re stopped by Caleb's hand under your jaw.

“Don’t look at him,” he growls, grabbing your face with both hands now. “He didn’t watch you grow into this. Not like I did.”

You open your mouth—part gasping at his confession, part moaning at the way Zayne hits the front of your walls just right at this angle. Caleb uses it as an invitation, licking into your mouth at the same pace Zayne fucks into you from behind.

“He didn’t suffer every night, lying awake in bed because he was aching to touch what he couldn’t,” Caleb says between kisses, practically panting. “Not like I did.”

His mouth consumes yours once more, each of Zayne’s thrusts pushing your tongues deeper against each other. He pulls away only once he can sense you’re at your breaking point.

“So you look at me while he takes what I’ve been dying for,” Caleb says, just as Zayne’s fingers work your clit as he thrusts into you just the way you need.

You don’t realize you’re crying until Caleb’s thumbs wipe tears from your cheeks.

“Let go, meimei.”

And you do.

Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, all-consuming and overwhelming and everything you wished it would be.

“Caleb,” you breathe as you clench around Zayne, the feeling of being in between the two so intoxicating it makes your head spin.

You reach for your brother, but he’s already pulling away—the sight of you reaching your climax for the first time in front of him, because of him, all too much. He wanted to last for you, and you were making that damn near impossible.

Zayne pulls out just as the last wave of pleasure washes over you, and you whine at the loss.

“Don't worry. I’m not done with you,” he says like a warning, or a promise.

He lays you down on your back, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear. The moment is so sweet, so tender that you nearly forget where you are. What you’re doing. Who you're doing it with.

Zayne’s cock, hard and heavy against your belly, quickly reminds you.

“Zayne?” you say, quieter than you mean to.

You feel his cock twitch just at the sound of his name in your mouth.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“You said I could have anything I wanted,” you remind him. “That you’d do whatever it takes to make me happy.”

He nods, concentrating on your every word.

“And I meant it. You just need to ask. So tell me,” he says, trailing kisses down your throat. “Tell me what it is that you want.”

He enters you again, the new position forcing you impossibly close. When he fucks you this way, it’s slower—so intimate it makes your heart ache.

“I want you to come inside of me,” you ask before you can hesitate. “I want to feel it. All of you, in me.”

He stills, eyes wide, then narrowing just as quickly. When he pumps into you again, it’s a little harder. A little rougher.

“You don’t have to say that,” he murmurs, eyes flickering over your face like he’s looking for the catch. “Not for me. I thought we were talking about what makes you happy. Not…not my favorite fucking fantasy.”

Your heart skips a beat. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and the sound he makes is so un-Zaynelike that you almost laugh.

“Who says it’s not my fantasy, too?” you challenge.

“Do you know what you’re saying? What that means?” His voice breaks. “You can't say that. Not unless you know I won't stop.”

You nod, all softness and wickedness at once.

“I want all of you. I want to know what it’s like to be yours like that. To feel you come apart inside me.”

Zayne goes still, like your words alone might put him over the edge if he doesn't stop himself.

“Your brother won’t be happy, will he?” You glance over at Caleb, whose eyes are locked on you.

“He’s watching. He’s hard. And he wants you all to himself.” Zayne’s voice is low, so low you didn’t think Caleb could hear it.

But he crosses the room at that in two strides.

“You’re really gonna sit there and tell her no?” He gestures at you, gaze soft but voice sharp. “Look at her, Zayne. She’s asking so sweetly. And you’re really gonna deny her that?”

Zayne does look at you then. He stares at you like he’s never seen you before.

“You’re sure?” he pleads, rocking slowly now inside you. “Not for me. Not for him. For you .”

“For me.”

At that, he surges forward, mouth at your neck like he’s starving, hips pressed hard against yours. You arch without meaning to, the way he’s fucking into you now almost too much for your body to handle.

“All I’ve ever wanted was to see you happy,” he admits. You’ve heard him say it before, but this time you really believe it.

His hands thread into your hair, strong arms caging you as he leans in, breath trembling.

“I’ve tried to be good. Tried to keep my hands off you. Keep you safe. Thought maybe that was what you needed,” he swallows, jaw tight, like the words cost him.

“But if this—” he kisses your temple, and you lean into it. “If this makes you happy…”

His pace turns relentless, like he's trying to bury a lifetime of restraint in the space between your hips.

“Then I’ll give you every goddamn piece of me.”

You smile, and that’s what shatters him.

Not the lust. Not the moans. Not even the way you beg.

That smile.

“Mine,” he growls, clutching you tighter. “ Mine .”

You feel him pulsing inside you, filling you with the heat of his release. It only makes you smile harder, the feel of him losing control inside of you sending you over the edge once more.

“ Fuck —I love you,” he says it like a curse, like it hurts. And maybe it does. “I love you so much it makes me fucking crazy.”

“Zayne, I—” I love you, too. You want to say. I love you so much it scares me.

But before the words can land, Caleb’s hand is on your jaw, two fingers sliding between your lips, wet and possessive and smug.

“Mm-mm,” he hums. “Not yet.”

Zayne growls, eyes locked on your mouth as Caleb’s fingers press deeper on your tongue, claiming your silence.

“Say it. Say you need me,” he rasps, voice like sin. “Say it when he’s still inside you.”

You look between the two men, lips full, heart thrumming. You try to breathe. Try to form a sound around the pressure in your mouth.

But even if you could, what would you say?

This shouldn't feel right. But Zayne's gaze doesn't hold jealousy. Only hunger. Curiosity. Like he wants to see how far you'll go.

So when his fingers slip out, wet and slow—you choke on your own breath as you gasp it out:

“Caleb, please…I need you.”

You barely register Zayne easing out of you before your brother’s hands are on your hips.

He doesn’t ask. Doesn’t wait. Just grips your sides and shifts you down the mattress like you weigh nothing.

You gasp as your thighs hit the edge of the bed. Caleb stays standing, looming between your legs while Zayne shifts behind you, arms bracketing your waist to keep you upright. He kisses your shoulder, your spine, grounding you while Caleb drinks in the view.

“She needs a minute,” Zayne mutters, voice wrecked. “Look at her. She can’t take more.”

You make a soft sound—half protest, half plea—and Caleb smirks, leaning in close.

“You really think she needs saving from me?” he speaks to Zayne, but his focus is entirely on you. “Or are you just scared of how good it’s gonna feel?”

Caleb’s hand trails up the back of your thigh, making your legs twitch. He feels it. So does Zayne.

“I can take it,” you whisper, and both men freeze.

“Angel—” Zayne starts, like he’s about to argue again.

But you turn your head toward him, eyes glassy but blazing. “I want to.”

Caleb’s expression turns feral. “That’s my girl.”

He lines himself up against you, hands wrapped around your thighs, the position leaving you spread and helpless before him.

“He made you smile like that. I saw it. And I’m glad.”

He leans forward—the smallest movement—but the head of him catches your clit in a way that makes your breath stutter.

“Now I wanna ruin it.”

Caleb grinds the length of his cock against your entrance, up and down, coating himself in the slick combination of your and Zayne’s pleasure.

“You should’ve let me have you first. You should’ve known I’d love you better.”

You’re so wet that he slips in without meaning to, just a little, but it’s enough to make him curse, enough to make you clench around the heavy tip of him.

“Then prove it,” you’re panting now, looking up at him with eager eyes. “Take me how you wanted to all this time. Like I’m yours. Like I should’ve been.”

“You should’ve been?” His voice is raw, disbelieving, cracked wide open.

You gasp as he slams into you in one brutal, claiming thrust, and the sound that rips from his throat is somewhere between a growl and a prayer.

“You were . You fuckin’ were,” he thrusts harder, like he can make you feel it in your bones. “It doesn’t matter who touched you first. I’ll be the last. You belong to me. It’s always been me.”

He fucks into you like he’s losing his mind. Maybe he is.

“I should’ve taken you the first time you looked at me like I was more than just your brother. Should’ve put you in my bed and never let you out.”

“I would’ve let you,” you whisper, and there’s no hesitation. "I still would."

"Don't—”

You moan his name, and that’s it.

It’s not pretty. It’s not gentle. It’s everything you’ve both ever wanted.

You’re trembling, legs shaking, vision white at the edges. Caleb doesn’t stop—won’t stop, not even when his cum drips down your inner thighs—but Zayne’s still there. His hands cradle your waist, guiding you through every wave, every cry. He leans in, presses a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head.

You reach for him blindly—grasping, needing—not because you’re slipping, but because you need him to know. Need him to know this doesn’t make him less. That you’re not choosing one over the other.

His hand finds yours and squeezes.

“I know,” he says quietly, forehead pressed to yours. “You don’t have to say it. I know.”

He shifts closer, wrapping you up even while Caleb breaks you open.

“You’re everything to me. You hear me?” His voice wavers, but never breaks. “You’re everything.”

And that’s what kills you. Not the pleasure, but this—being loved so wholly you can’t remember how you ever survived without it.

Then— pop.

You flinch as the window flashes with white-gold light, followed by the sharp crack of fireworks lighting up the night sky.

Caleb blinks, lifting his head, still buried inside you. “Seriously?”

Zayne huffs a soft laugh into your hair.

And you smile.

Only for your throat to tighten—because you realize what that means.

The night is slipping. Already changed. You’ve already crossed the line and now…now there’s no going back.

Your laughter stutters into a quiet sob. “I don’t want it to end.”

"Then we won’t let it,” Zayne cups your face instantly, thumbing away the tears before they fall. "We're not going anywhere."

“I don’t know what happens next,” you whisper.

"We figure it out. Together,” Caleb’s voice is rough and sure as he gently pulls out of you. His hand sneaks up to ruffle your hair. "You're stuck with us now, y'know that? No way out now."

You huff a tired, shaky laugh. Because god, you want that to be true.

The two help piece you back together again. Caleb cleans you up, pulls one of his t-shirts over your head with careful hands. Zayne’s there a moment later, kneeling in front of you with a glass of water. His other hand cradles your jaw as you sip, thumb brushing softly over your cheekbone.

“Slow,” he says when you start to gulp. “You’re okay. Just breathe.”

And only then—when your body is clean, clothed, and cradled in warmth—do they lay you down between them, the blanket pulled over all three of you. Caleb curls behind you, hand splayed possessively over your stomach. Zayne pulls you toward his chest, heart beating steady beneath your cheek.

You don’t know what tomorrow looks like. But for the first time, you’re not afraid of asking for too much. Of being too much. You understand now. That this kind of happiness—this deep, aching love—only happens when it’s both. When Zayne holds you steady and Caleb tears you apart. And somehow, they both make you whole again.

"I love you," you breathe. "Both of you."

For a second, you think they won't answer. That maybe they didn't hear you.

But Zayne kisses the top of your head. "We know," he murmurs.

Caleb holds you tighter.

"We love you, too," he adds, quieter than you've ever heard him.

When you close your eyes, tucked between your brother and your guardian, sleep no longer feels like an escape.

“You’re dripping.”

Caleb cracks one eye open. The bag of frozen peas you set at his neck fifteen minutes ago has gone soft, condensation tracking down his throat and disappearing into the collar of his henley.

“I’ll get him a new couch.”

You cross your arms and raise a brow. “With what money.”

“He can add it to my tab. Right under the chiropractor bill.”

“Careful with the tab, captain,” Sylus warns drily. “I’m very creative about collecting, and I’m starting to think you enjoy owing me.”

Caleb chucks a pillow across the room. Sylus catches it without flinching and tucks under his arm like he won it fair.

“You boys—” you look between Sylus, settled into his armchair like a throne, and Caleb, sprawled on the couch “—are going to play nice.”

“We’re behaving,” Sylus says.

“Barely,” Caleb adds.

Sylus shrugs. “Barely counts.”

They’ve been like this since tonight’s game. Before the game, actually. Since the first time they met on the ice two seasons ago, since something sparked between them the first time your brother knocked your boyfriend flat on his ass only for the silver-haired menace to come up smiling.

Tonight’s third period had been ugly. Caleb’s team down two, Sylus’s team running clock, and somewhere around the seven minute mark Caleb had taken Sylus into the boards in a way that could have looked accidental from the cheap seats and looked extremely on purpose from the bench. Sylus answered with his fists. The refs let them go for longer than they should have. Both were ejected, and you’d watched them get walked off in opposite directions like dogs separated mid-fight while five thousand people screamed.

You’d had the idea on the walk back to your dorm. Stupid. Catastrophically stupid.

Come over, you’d texted Caleb. Sylus’s place.

Three bouncing dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again. He’d called you instead.

“You’re out of your mind, pips.”

“Probably.”

“Meimei.”

“Gege.”

He released a long, suffering breath. “Why?”

“Because I love you and I love him and I’m so tired of being caught in the middle like this.”

“He gave me a split lip.”

“You gave him a bloody nose.”

“And you think this is a fix?”

“I think it’s a try.”

He showed up an hour later, of course. You’d never asked Caleb for something he didn’t give you.

“How’s the nose,” Caleb says without opening his eyes.

Sylus touches the bridge of his nose, more out of habit than concern. “Fine.”

“Shame. Could’ve sworn I did more damage.”

“You always did overestimate your impact.”

“Overestimate?” Caleb’s eyes finally open. “I’ll overestimate my fist up your—”

“Okay!” you interrupt, lifting both hands in surrender. “New rule.”

“This should be good,” Sylus says under his breath.

“Each of you has to say one nice thing about the other,” you announce. “One. Single. Nice. Thing. And then we can move on with our evening like adults.”

“I am being an adult,” Sylus counters. “I haven’t poisoned his drink.”

You scoff. “That’s baseline human decency.”

“For me, sweetie, it’s generous.”

Caleb snorts. It’s the first sound he’s made in Sylus’s direction that isn’t hostile, and you watch Sylus clock it with a small flicker at his eyebrow.

“Caleb,” you say. “You first.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re in his apartment drinking his whiskey and bleeding on his furniture, and I think that earns him a compliment.”

Caleb stares at the ceiling for a long second, jaw working, like you’ve asked him to move a mountain with his bare hands.

“He’s fast,” Caleb says, finally.

“Fast,” you repeat.

“On the ice. He’s fast. Faster than he should be for his size.” Caleb pauses. “It’s annoying. Like a cockroach.”

“That’s not exactly a compliment.”

“It’s adjacent.”

You look at Sylus. “Your turn.”

Sylus takes a sip of whiskey, holding it in his mouth for a moment as he turns over his options. He swallows and tilts his glass toward Caleb.

“He doesn’t quit.”

Caleb glances over.

“Down two,” Sylus says. “Most players know when they’re beaten. He apparently lacks that particular survival instinct. Played the last seven minutes like he could bully the scoreboard into changing.” He takes another sip. “It was irritating.”

“So we’ve established you’re both fast and stubborn and you hate each other for it,” you say. “Wonderful. Truly groundbreaking diplomacy.”

“You asked for one nice thing,” Sylus says, swirling his glass. “That was one nice thing.”

“That was one nice thing wrapped in three mean ones.”

“What can I say? I’m efficient.”

“You’re efficiently a prick,” Caleb fires back.

“Mm,” Sylus hums, entirely unbothered. “Is that what you say when you don’t have a comeback, or is that what you say when your sister’s watching and you want her to think you’re tough?”

Caleb sits up. Drains his whiskey in one go, sets the glass on the table, and lets the bag of peas slide from his neck and thud to the floor.

“Watch it, pretty boy,” he says, eyes narrowed.

“It’s a genuine question. Because you do the same thing on the ice. All those big hits, the scrapping, mouthing off at the refs. It’s very impressive. Very masculine. Especially when she’s sitting third row.” Sylus tilts his chin toward you without taking his eyes off your brother. “Must be exhausting, carrying a crush that obvious for that long. I’m surprised she hasn’t said something.”

“Shut your mouth.”

“She’s a kind girl. Probably doesn’t want to embarrass you.”

“I said shut your mouth.”

“Or maybe she likes it. Having her big brother panting after her like a dog at the door every time she—”

“That’s enough!” you yell.

Both sets of eyes snap to you. You’re not one to raise your voice, and they both know it. You don’t know what you’re going to say next until you’re already saying it, and by then it’s too late:

“If you can’t talk it out, maybe you should just kiss and make up.”

You know it sounds wrong the second it leaves your mouth. You’re tired and tipsy and your brother and your boyfriend are having a conversation about you like you’re not in the room, and all you wanted was for them to stop, and what resulted was the dumbest sentence you’ve said in your entire life.

You try to chase it with a laugh that doesn’t quite land. The room doesn’t laugh with you.

You scramble to walk it back. “Kidding. Obviously. God, your faces. I’m going to get more ice—”

Sylus sets his glass down. The sound of crystal on marble is small, though it lands like a gavel.

“Interesting,” Sylus says.

“I was joking,” you reply, too fast.

“Were you.”

“Yes.”

“Hm.”

Sylus rises from the armchair, crossing to the couch in three steps. He holds out a hand to Caleb.

“What the hell are you doing?” Caleb asks.

“She asked us to make up,” Sylus says simply. “I’m making up. Stand up, captain.”

“You’re out of your goddamned mind.”

“She’s been mediating between us all night, and she’s running out of patience.” Sylus’s hand is still extended, patient and unmoving. “Your poor sister has spent two years trying to keep us from killing each other. The least we can do is give her what she wants for a few seconds.”

Caleb tries to look unbothered, but you catch this jaw tightening at your poor sister. ”She was being sarcastic.”

“Was she?” Sylus glances at you over his shoulder. “Sweetie. Were you being sarcastic?”

You should say yes. You should laugh it off and go get more ice and let the night fade into something survivable.

You just can’t seem to make yourself do anything at all.

Sylus turns back to Caleb, eyebrow raised. See?

“Fine,” Caleb says. “Fine. One kiss.”

He doesn’t take Sylus’s hand. He stands up on his own, because of course he does, and squares up in front of Sylus with his shoulders braced like he’s about to take a penalty shot.

“One kiss,” Caleb repeats.

“One kiss,” Sylus agrees.

Sylus cups the side of Caleb’s face, thumb settling by the butterfly bandage at his brow. Caleb swallows hard, but doesn’t pull away.

“Relax, sweetheart,” Sylus teases. “It’s a kiss. We’ve gotten more physical over a little black puck.”

Caleb’s hands curl into fists at his sides, his face carefully impassive. “Get on with it, pretty boy.”

Sylus leans in and kisses him.

It starts as nothing. A closed-mouth press, chaste, just sufficient enough to satisfy your request. Sylus’s hand stays at Caleb’s jaw. Caleb’s hands stay at his sides. It’s two men doing something for the benefit of a third person they both care deeply about, and nothing more than that.

Then Caleb’s mouth moves.

It’s the smallest shift—his lower lip catches against Sylus’s, and you watch Sylus notice it—tilting his head to change the angle, transforming the kiss from nothing to everything in the span of a heartbeat.

Caleb’s hand comes up to Sylus’s collar, fisting the cotton there. Not pulling, just holding, his split knuckles going white behind their tape. Sylus makes a small sound, approval or surprise or both. His hand slides from Caleb’s jaw to the back of his neck and he deepens the kiss, mouth opening against Caleb’s slowly, like he’s afraid to startle him, afraid for the moment to vanish, and Caleb lets him.

The kiss isn’t for you anymore.

You can see the exact moment it stops being a performance and starts being something private. Caleb’s other hand comes up, both fists in Sylus’s shirt now. Sylus’s fingers curl into the hair at Caleb’s nape, tugging gently. The sounds shared between them are wet and obscene and utterly, nakedly honest.

Your hands are in your own lap, fingers laced tightly together. You’re watching your boyfriend kiss your brother and the thing you're feeling isn't jealousy or shock or any of the things you are supposed to feel. What you feel instead is heat pooling low, the kind that makes you press your thighs together and the friction of your jeans agonizing.

Sylus pulls back first, turning his head just enough to look at you. His eyes scan yours, drop to your lap, then return to your face. His mouth tilts, and he’s beside you on the couch in three strides.

Caleb stands frozen in place, mouth still slightly open.

Sylus pats the empty space beside him. “Sit down, captain.”

Caleb sits.

Sylus settles between you, one arm stretched across the back behind your shoulders, the other behind Caleb’s.

“Well,” Sylus says to no one in particular. “That was overdue.”

Caleb is staring at the muted TV, jaw working, suddenly captivated by what might be the least consequential Division III basketball game of all time. His lip is bleeding again, the split reopened from the kiss, but he makes no move to wipe it clean.

“Caleb,” you say.

“Don’t.”

“Your lip—”

“I know.”

“It’s bleeding again.”

“I know, pips.”

Sylus reaches over and swipes his thumb across the corner of Caleb’s mouth, catching the blood. Caleb flinches but doesn’t pull away. Sylus studies his thumb for a second, then wipes it on his own jeans, satisfied.

“Good kisser, by the way,” Sylus says lightly. “In case that wasn’t clear.”

Caleb closes his eyes.

“Very direct. Bit aggressive. Holds on like he’s afraid you’ll leave.” Sylus glances your way. “You should try it, sweetie.”

Whatever lust-drunk haze you were in is sliced clean through by the implication, cold and brutally sobering.

“Try what,” you murmur.

“Kissing him,” Sylus clarifies. “You should try it. I think you’d like it.”

Heat floods your face. “Sylus.”

“Hm?”

“You know we can’t—that he’s—” you gesture vaguely between yourself and Caleb, then toward Sylus. “—and we’re—”

“Why not? Because we’re dating?” Sylus asks, sounding genuinely curious. “Or because he’s your brother?”

Your stomach falls through the floor.

Because you thought you’d hidden it. You’ve been so goddamn careful—with your eyes, your hands, the way you angle your body when Caleb sits too close and the way you laugh at his jokes exactly as long as a friend would and not one second longer. And Sylus just picked up everything you’ve been hiding and set it on the coffee table between the three of you, and now you’re all staring straight at it, and there’s no putting it back.

“Both,” you say. “Obviously both.”

“What if it’s neither,” Sylus says, holding both of you in the loose parentheses of his arms, as if he doesn’t find any of this complicated at all. ”What if the problem is that you’ve both wanted each other for so long you’ve turned it into something you’re not allowed to have, and the not-being-allowed has gotten so big you can’t see past it anymore.”

Caleb is staring blankly at the TV again. His throat works around his response.

“She’s your girlfriend, Sylus.”

“She is.”

“And I’m her—”

“You’re her brother. Yes. You’re also in love with her. We all know this. We’ve known it all night. We knew it long before tonight.” Sylus inspects his nails, nonchalant. “So let’s stop building the case and move to the verdict, shall we?”

“Sylus,” you whisper.

“Sweetie. Look at me.” You do. He’s giving you the look he gives when he wants your full attention, a look he doesn’t use often and one you’ve never been able to refuse. “Listen to me. Both of you. I’m going to say something, and I’m going to say it once, and after I say it neither of you gets to pretend you didn’t hear.”

You nod. So does Caleb, in sync, and you watch the small flicker pass across Sylus’s eyes that means he noticed.

“Your big brother won’t touch you,” Sylus says to you. “You know that. I know that. He knows that. He’s spent—how long, Caleb?”

Caleb blinks up at the ceiling.

“How long,” Sylus insists.

“Since I was thirteen.”

“Since he was thirteen. All those years deciding he’s not going to touch you. He’s not going to undo that tonight. Not for me. Not for you. Not for anyone.”

Your heart beats so heavily you’re certain the whole room can hear it.

“But,” Sylus continues. His arm tightens behind your shoulders. His other arm tightens behind Caleb’s. “He can touch me. Can’t you, Caleb?”

“...Yes.”

“And I can touch her. Can’t I, kitten?”

“Yes.”

“Then look at that. Look at how convenient that is.”

Caleb leans out of Sylus’s reach, dragging a hand through his dark hair. “Did I knock something loose up there, Qin? Lay into you a little too hard tonight?”

“Not nearly hard enough.” Sylus smirks, the amusement fading into something more focused. “Nobody touches anybody they’re not supposed to touch tonight. Everybody goes home having had exactly the experience they pretend they didn’t want.”

“That’s a nice speech. You rehearse that in the penalty box?”

“I had five minutes. Figured I’d make good use of them.”

“You’re delusional.”

“And you’re still here.”

That lands. You see it hit in the way Caleb’s mouth opens and stays there, the argument dying in his throat. Because he could leave. The door is right there. He has a car. A phone. Yet he’s sitting under Sylus’s arm and hasn’t taken a single step toward any of them.

Sylus sees it, too.

He reaches up and catches Caleb’s jaw, thumb finding the split in his lower lip, and presses into it. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to feel.

Caleb hisses through his teeth. His hand wraps around Sylus’s wrist but doesn’t pull it away.

“Unless,” Sylus says, his thumb resting in the seam of Caleb’s mouth, “you’d rather go back to arguing about hockey.”

Caleb doesn’t argue. He doesn’t say yes, or nod, or do anything at all except sit there with Sylus’s thumb against his lip and his hand around Sylus’s wrist and his chest rising and falling faster than it ever has on the ice.

That’s enough for Sylus.

He tilts Caleb’s jaw down and kisses him, tongue working in slow and unhurried strokes, like he has the whole night and intends to use every second of it. His thumb slides to the hinge of Caleb’s jaw and rests there. His other hand stays on your shoulder, keeping you close. Keeping you watching. A warm, heavy, point of contact that says stay and watch this and you are not going to look away from what I’m doing to your brother’s mouth.

Caleb’s hand finds the back of Sylus’s neck, and you inhale sharply.

Sylus pulls back at your gasp. His hand leaves Caleb’s jaw and finds yours with the same grip, thumb at the corner of your mouth, fingers curving under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. His eyes scan yours, and something in his expression comes alive and hungry.

“Open, sweetie.”

He kisses you, and it’s a kiss you know. The shape of his mouth, the pace, the pressure of his tongue against yours. You’ve kissed this man so many times you could map it blindfolded.

But there’s something in his mouth that isn’t his.

It takes you a second to place it, a warmth that doesn’t belong to Sylus. A faint copper edge that blooms on your tongue when his presses against it. The blood of a split lip. Caleb’s, carried on your boyfriend’s tongue, delivered to yours with each stroke. You whimper against his mouth, and feel Sylus smile into the kiss—a small, satisfied flex that says his hypothesis just proved correct.

“There,” he says quietly, pressing a parting kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Now you’ve had him, too.”

On the couch behind him, Caleb’s eyes are focused on your face—specifically on your mouth, more specifically on the place where his blood is still sitting on your lower lip and you haven’t wiped it off.

“Now,” Sylus says, turning back to Caleb. “Your turn, captain.”

Caleb opens his mouth and Sylus kisses him, tongue sweeping wet and slow and thorough. Caleb’s teeth close around Sylus’s bottom lip and hold, pulling, tasting the sweetness that’s sitting on Sylus’s lip from yours. The bite pulls a low sound from Sylus’s throat, his eyelids fluttering at the pressure, and Caleb doesn’t let go. If anything he sucks harder, desperately chasing your mouth the only way he’s allowed to. 

Sylus finally pulls back with noticeable effort, running his tongue over his own lip where its newly swollen.

“Well?” Sylus asks, amused and knowing. “Could you taste her?”

“Apple.” Caleb swallows. “Green apple.”

The words hit you hard and low. Your Chapstick. The one he’s bought for you in bulk since you were in middle school and keeps in his glovebox because you always lose yours. The one he tosses into your lap without comment every time you get in his car, the one you reapplied before walking into this apartment.

“Yeah,” Caleb says, rougher. “Yeah, I could taste her.”

Sylus’s mouth curves. “Good.”

“Again,” Caleb says to Sylus, not asking. “Kiss her again.”

Sylus obliges. He turns to you and claims your lips, longer, dirtier, a thin strand of spit connecting your mouths when he pulls away. He turns to Caleb, who catches it with his mouth before Sylus finishes turning, desperate and graceless and nothing like the controlled athlete who commanded the ice earlier tonight. Caleb’s hand comes up to the back of Sylus’s head and holds him there, kissing him harder, letting Sylus feed him the taste of you, only pulling apart when his lungs burn for air.

“More,” Caleb groans.

Sylus huffs a laugh. “Greedy.”

“More, Sylus.”

The rhythm turns hypnotic. Sylus kisses Caleb, turns, kisses you. Kisses you, turns, kisses Caleb. Each pass filthier than the last, a little more urgent, carrying more of your brother to you—not just his taste but his small, wet sounds, his shallow breaths, the barely-held-back noises he keeps making against Sylus’s tongue that Sylus carries to you like gifts.

You don’t know how you end up pressed together.

Caleb’s thigh is flush against Sylus’s, their shoulders overlapping. You’ve managed to end up in your boyfriend’s lap, straddling his hips. And Sylus keeps one hand on each of you the entire time, one at your hip now, the other on Caleb’s bicep.

You lean in after one of the passes and catch Sylus’s mouth before he’s fully turned away from Caleb, the kiss off-center and messy, and you taste Caleb so strongly that your hips buck against Sylus’s.

Sylus laughs. He gives your ass a teasing smack.

“Bedroom,” he says.

Caleb pulls back, eyes widening. “Sylus—”

“We’re moving this to the bedroom. This couch costs more than your car, and your sister’s about to ruin it.”

You frown. “I am not—”

“Sweetie, your hand is on his belt.”

You look down. Your hand is, in fact, on Caleb’s belt.

Not through Sylus, just—your hand, on Caleb’s belt buckle, fingers curled around the leather, and you don’t remember putting it there and you don’t remember Sylus guiding it, and you’re dangerously close to not remembering why this whole thing was ever a bad idea in the first place.

You pull your hand away like it’s been burned.

“Bedroom,” Sylus repeats, an order rather than suggestion. He stands, bringing you with him, your legs wrapped around his waist. He eyes Caleb and tips his head toward the hallway. “Now.”

Nobody argues.

Sylus’s bedroom is all dark wood and low light, with a bed that takes up most of the space. It’s a mattress you’ve been on a hundred times. You know how the sheets feel bunched in your fists, how the pillow positions your hips at just the right angle when he puts it under your stomach, how the comforter feels around your shoulders when he tucks you in with a kiss to your temple.

You have no idea how different it’ll feel with three people on top of it.

Sylus deposits you in the middle of the bed before crossing to his nightstand. 

“Caleb,” Sylus says. He turns the lamp down another notch. “In or out. I won’t ask twice.”

You watch your brother from the doorway, his gaze flicking to and away from you, like the sight of you—leaning back on your elbows, lips kiss-swollen, hair a little mussed, eyes alive and wanting—is too much to bear.

He steps in, locking the door behind him with a loud click. “I’m doing this for her.”

“Of course you are,” Sylus says.

“I mean it, Sylus. This isn’t—I’m not here for you.”

“Nobody asked you to be.”

“Good.”

“Good.” Sylus reaches behind his neck, pulling his shirt up and over his head. “Clothes. Off. Both of you.”   

“All of them?” Caleb asks, still lingering by the door.

Sylus drapes his shirt over the back of his desk chair. “Leave the underwear. We’re not animals.”

“Debatable,” you mutter, and Sylus’s mouth twitches.

The three of you strip in silence, shirts tossed aside, all three pairs of jeans hitting the floor at different speeds— Sylus’s first, folded; yours next, kicked off the edge of the bed; Caleb’s last, shoved down and stepped out of.

You’ve seen your brother shirtless—at the beach, after a shower, when he mows the lawn in the dead of August. What you haven’t seen is your brother in gray boxer briefs that do nothing to hide the way his erection strains against the fabric, tight enough that you can tell where the head of his cock meets the shaft, that you can see the darkened spot at the tip where precum bleeds through.

Caleb catches you staring, eyes finding yours and holding them until you’re the one that breaks. Your cheeks burn violently, fingers fumbling with your bra clasp like you’ve forgotten how it works.

“Eyes up, captain,” Sylus warns, moving to the foot of the bed. “She’ll still be there in a minute.”

“You going to coach me through this like it’s a power play?” Caleb grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

“If that’s what it takes. You never could finish without a setup.”

“I have fourteen goals this season.”

“And how many assists?”

Caleb's mouth opens and shuts.

“...Shut up.”

Sylus huffs out a laugh. He pulls you to the edge of the mattress by your ankles, and you yelp.

“I’m going to tell you where to look all night, sweetheart. Get used to it,” he says to Caleb before turning his attention back to you. “Lie back, kitten.”

You settle back. Sylus stands between your legs, one hand braced beside your head, and for a moment it’s just the two of you. He kisses your throat, your collarbone, mouth moving down the center of your chest slow and warm. His free hand finds your waist and holds there, thumb tracing the skin above the waistband of your underwear.

“Caleb,” Sylus says against your skin. “Behind me.”

“I’m not cuddling you, Sylus.”

“Nobody’s cuddling anybody. Get behind me. Hands on mine.”

“This isn’t—”

“For her, captain. You’re doing this for her. Remember?”

Caleb positions his knees on either side of Sylus’s calves, chest close to Sylus’s back but not quite touching. He braces one hand on the mattress, the other settling over Sylus’s at your waist, lining up finger over finger, his broader palm bracketing Sylus’s against your hip. The added weight presses Sylus’s grip firmer into your skin, and you arch up into it.

“There,” Sylus says. “Feel her through me. When I move, you move. Yes?”

Caleb’s voice is barely there. “Yes.”

Sylus’s thumb traces up the curve of your waist. Caleb’s follows—riding the back of Sylus’s hand, tracking every motion. Sylus’s hand slides to your ribs, and Caleb’s follows, up and around. Sylus’s fingertips graze the underside of your breast and you gasp, and Caleb’s knuckle catches the edge of your skin where Sylus’s hand doesn’t fully cover.

Caleb freezes.

“I didn’t—I—”

“Caleb…” you whisper.

You look up at Sylus, but he doesn’t intervene. He watches your face from above, letting you be the one who tells Caleb what’s allowed.

“It’s okay, gege,” you decide. “You don’t have to stop.”

Caleb’s hand unfreezes. His fingers resettle over Sylus’s, and they keep moving.

The next touch isn’t an accident.

It’s the back of his ring finger, tracing a line along your ribs that Sylus’s hand doesn’t cover. A quarter-inch of contact, gone, then back—his pinky, grazing the curve of your waist as Sylus’s hand slides lower, gone just as fast. Ghost touches, so minimal you could pretend they didn’t happen. Caleb finding the gaps and pressing into them, testing, learning you through the spaces between your boyfriend’s fingers.

“Sylus,” you whisper.

“I see it, sweetie.”

“Is he—”

“He’s being creative.” Sylus’s mouth lifts. He shifts his hands enough to widen the gaps between his fingers by a fraction, adjusting his grip to give Caleb more room. “I’m allowing it.”

Caleb presses closer behind Sylus. His chest makes contact with Sylus’s back, and the added weight pushes Sylus’s body down against yours.

“Caleb,” Sylus says, in warning and permission at the same time.

“I know.”

“You’re on top of me.”

“I know. That doesn’t mean I like you.”

“You liked me just fine on the couch.”

“That was—that was the situation. That was for—”

“For her. Yes. You’ve mentioned.”

Sylus lowers his mouth to your breast. His tongue traces the curve, teeth teasing your nipple, and you arch up into him. The motion presses your hips against his, and Sylus’s hips press back against Caleb’s, and Caleb—

Caleb grinds forward.

It’s a small, involuntary roll of his hips against Sylus’s ass that pushes Sylus’s hips into yours, and you feel the force of Caleb traveling through Sylus like a wave cresting against you.

Your mouth falls open.

“Caleb. Do that again,” you urge.

“Pips—”

“Gege, please. Do that again.”

He does it again, harder this time. His hips roll forward, grinding Sylus into you, and the pressure hits you exactly right. You gasp and grab Sylus’s shoulders. Sylus makes a low, strangled sound you’ve never heard from him before, Caleb’s hips driving him forward and yours rocking up to meet him.

“More,” you gasp.

Caleb grinds harder, his exhales ragged against Sylus’s neck. The bed is moving. You’re moving. Caleb’s hands are now white-knuckled on Sylus’s hips and Sylus’s are braced on either side of your head and you’re gripping the sheets with both fists as the room dissolves to nothing but friction and heat and breath.

“Caleb—” Sylus manages, his voice is rough in a way that makes your stomach clench, “Caleb, you need to—fuck—you need to—slow down.”

Caleb doesn’t slow down. His next stroke grinds Sylus into you so hard you nearly scream, grabbing onto Sylus’s shoulders, and your boyfriend shudders—actually shudders—and Caleb’s hips snap forward again, relentless.

Sylus throws his weight backward, driving Caleb off him enough to break away. He holds a hand between you and Caleb like a referee calling a penalty—chest heaving, skin flushed, entire body vibrating with the effort of stopping.

“Christ,” he grits out. “The pair of you.”

You stare up at him, breathless. Caleb has one knee up at the end of the bed, hands still shaped around hips that aren’t there anymore.

“We need to slow down,” Sylus says, pushing his hair back with one hand, “or one of us was going to finish in our underwear like a teenager, and I am not going to let that be me.”

“Could’ve been me,” Caleb says, roughly.

“It was going to be all three of us. And we haven’t even started yet.” Sylus looks between you, eyes dark, still catching his breath. “Underwear off. All of us.”

“Thought we weren’t animals,” Caleb mutters.

“We evolved.” Sylus counters, already halfway out of his own boxers. “Take them off, captain.”

You lift your hips and shimmy out of your panties, tossing them off the side of the bed without ceremony. Caleb relents, kicking his underwear off in the general direction of his jeans.

It’s seeing them side by side that knocks the air clean out of you.

Sylus stands tall, lean and carved, all controlled lines and casual strength. A trail of silver hair guides your eyes to where his cock hangs heavy between his thighs, the tip flushed and leaking. Caleb stands broader, rougher around the edges, the bruise on his ribs going green, tape still half-wound around his knuckles. Dark hair runs in a line below his navel, and when you see your brother’s cock for the first time—thick and eager in his hand—you draw your knees together.

Sylus’s hand catches them before they close.

“Uh-uh,” he says simply. With one palm on each knee, he eases them back apart. “None of that, sweetie.”

He guides you back against the headboard, adjusts the pillow under your lower back, running a hand down your calf once he’s finished like he’s admiring his handiwork.

“Comfortable?” he asks, sitting back on his heels.

You nod. “Yes.”

The mattress dips as Caleb moves to kneel behind Sylus. He reaches for your boyfriend’s hip, already angling to resume the position—his chest against Sylus’s back, Sylus between your legs, the structure of this arrangement he knows and trusts.

“No,” Sylus stops Caleb with a hand around his forearm, pulling him to kneel beside you instead. “I want you to see something.”

Sylus settles between your legs, lowering himself on his elbows. His mouth grazes the inside of your thigh, red eyes pinning Caleb.

“You can look, captain.”

Caleb swallows. “I am looking.”

“Then look properly.” Sylus’s breath hits your aching core with each word, and you squirm. “It’s okay. Look at her.”

Sylus holds Caleb’s eyes as his mouth moves higher. He kisses your hip, the crease of your thigh, the soft skin below your navel. Then his tongue teases your clit, and your hips jerk up off the bed. Caleb’s hand, resting on his own thigh, curls into a fist.

“See how pretty she is?” Sylus murmurs against you.

“Sylus—”

“Look.”

Sylus parts you with one long, flat stroke of his tongue, closing his lips around your clit with a teasing suck before pulling away—giving your brother an unobstructed view, you realize hazily. He spreads you open with both thumbs, displaying your swollen, slick pussy with an almost reverent care. You’re so wet that you’ve made a mess of your inner thighs, so wet it should shame you, but the way Caleb is looking at you right now leaves no room for any feeling other than the dizzying certainty that your brother wants you as badly as you want him.

“You did this, Caleb. Your sister’s pretty little cunt is ruining my sheets. All because of you,” Sylus muses. He drags a thumb up through your slick heat, eyes locked on Caleb’s expression as he circles the wetness around your clit. “She’s been like this since you grabbed me by the shirt. Since you made me bleed on the ice, I’d imagine.”

Sylus lowers his mouth to you once more, tongue patient and expert, licking into you the way he knows you like. The sensation makes your toes curl, but you’re faintly aware that the act isn’t for your pleasure, but for the benefit of the man kneeling beside you with bated breath.

Caleb watches intently—the way Sylus’s jaw works, the speed and pressure that makes you gasp, the way your hips buck when he hums against you every few strokes—studying like an exam he’s desperate to pass.

“Caleb,” Sylus says, lifting his mouth just enough to speak. “Spit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You can’t put your mouth on her,” Sylus explains. “But you can give her something from it. Can’t you?”

Caleb exhales hard through his nose, but doesn’t deny it.

He leans over you, and his face is close, close enough that his breath heats your stomach, close enough that you see his nostrils flare, briefly, involuntarily, his lips parting at whatever he finds there. He lets saliva pool under his tongue and glances at you sideways, a silent plea for approval.

You nod, quickly, anticipation buzzing under your skin. “I want to feel you there, gege.”

He spits.

When it lands directly on your swollen clit, you cry out. The streak of saliva runs down your slit slowly, torturously, so erotic it makes you clench around nothing.

“Good,” Sylus murmurs, and drops his head back down. He works it in with his tongue, and the added slick makes you moan. “Feel that, sweetie? That’s all your brother. You’re taking him so well.”

Your hand finds the nearest solid thing—Caleb’s thigh—and grips tight.

Caleb lets out a strained sound at the contact, but he doesn’t pull away. You can feel the small shifts in his weight as he leans closer, pulled in, unable to help himself. He watches Sylus’s mouth on you with an expression that’s long passed hunger and arrived somewhere more primal.

“Sylus,” Caleb says, more groan than word.

Sylus hums against you but doesn’t move.

“Sylus. Let me—”

Sylus lifts his head, mouth glistening. He looks at Caleb with his chin resting against the inside of your thigh and a lazy, knowing expression that makes your stomach flip.

“Let you what, captain?”

Caleb’s throat moves. “Taste.”

“Taste what.”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“I’m going to make you say it.”

“Her. I want to taste her. Sylus, let me—”

“How badly.”

His jaw flexes once. Twice. “Badly.”

Sylus presses a kiss to your thigh before sitting up, giving his cock a few lazy strokes. “Hm.”

He positions the head of his cock between your legs—not to enter, just outside—sliding just the tip up and down the wet of you. You gasp, cunt throbbing, aching to be filled by him—by Sylus, by Caleb, by both.

Caleb is watching with his mouth open.

“How badly,” Sylus repeats, eyes on your brother as he rolls his hips against you this time, dragging the full length of him through your folds.

“Sylus—” Caleb urges.

“Tell me, sweetheart. I want to hear you say it.”

“Please.” It falls out of Caleb’s mouth unauthorized. “Please, Sylus, let me—”

Sylus grinds against you again, slower. He makes sure every inch of him is covered, glistening with you, and Caleb is watching with every muscle tense and his hands gripping his thighs hard enough to bruise.

“More?” Sylus asks Caleb, almost bored, like he’s asking about the weather.

“Sylus, for fuck’s sake—”

“That didn’t sound like more.”

“More. Yes. More, just—Sylus, come on—”

Sylus rolls his hips into you one last time, a long, slow grind that pulls a moan out of you and leaves him drenched. He rises onto his knees, cock gleaming with you, and looks at Caleb.

“Come here, captain.”

Caleb moves before the sentence is finished.

His mouth is on Sylus faster than you can process it—tasting you with one long, flat stroke of his tongue from base to tip; a wrecked, thankful sound torn from somewhere deep inside his chest.

“That’s it.” Sylus’s hand finds the back of Caleb’s head and holds there. “Taste your baby sister, Caleb. That’s what she tastes like when she wants you. And she’s been wanting you all night. Can you taste that? Can you taste how badly her body needs yours?”

Caleb’s hands grip Sylus’s thighs as his mouth works—tasting, chasing it, trying to get every trace of you off Sylus’s skin. You watch your boyfriend lose himself for a moment: his hips jerk forward once, and he looks down at Caleb with an expression you’ve only ever seen him give you.

“God, look at you,” Sylus says, low. “This is what you’ve been missing. Years, Caleb. Years of this.”

Caleb lifts his head. His mouth is wet, eyes nearly black. He looks at Sylus first—a look that is somehow both grateful and furious—and then he looks at you.

“I know,” he says, bitter but not at you. 

“Was it worth it? Being noble?”

Caleb shakes off Sylus’s hold, running his hand over the back of his head like he could erase the man’s touch. “Shut up, pretty boy.”

Sylus raises his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not saying anything.”

“You’re thinking it.”

“I’m thinking—” Sylus wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and settles beside you against the headboard. His hand finds your knee, pulling it closer to your chest. “—your sister has been lying here all alone, begging for you to fuck her, while you’ve been busy showing a lot of enthusiasm for a cock you claim to hate.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Qin.” His words are calm. His ears, unfortunately, are bright red. “That was for her, not you.”

“Was it. Then prove it.” Sylus gives your thigh a squeeze. “Do something for her she can actually feel. Between her legs, captain.”

“No. That’s—no. That’s not what we agreed to.” Caleb’s whole body goes rigid. “You said nobody touches anybody they’re not supposed to. That was the rule.”

“We didn’t agree to anything,” Sylus counters. “We’ve been making it up as we go. And so far, everything we’ve made up has worked, hasn’t it.”

“This—this is different.”

“Is it? You tasted your sister on my cock and the world kept turning.” Sylus raises a brow. “What makes you think this will be any different?”

“It’s completely different and you know it.”

“How.”

“Because she’s—” Caleb gestures at you without looking at you. “She’s right there, Sylus, and I—”

“Look at her, Caleb.”

Caleb looks at you, and you don’t soften it. You don’t close your legs or reach for the sheet or give him something to hide behind. You let him see the aftermath of an hour of being touched through another man, what a lifetime of being so close to your brother but never close enough has done to you.

“Caleb,” you say. “Please. Just come here.”

His hands open and close at his sides. “Pips, you don’t know what’s going to happen if I—”

“I know exactly what’s going to happen.”

“You don’t.”

“You’re going to touch me and it’s going to feel like it should have felt a long time ago. And I’m going to be fine. And you’re going to be fine. And I’m asking you, gege. I’m asking. Please.”

He’s quiet. He looks at Sylus—not for permission, not exactly. Giving your boyfriend one last chance to change his mind, to tell him this is wrong, to kick him to the curb and slam the door behind him and pretend none of this ever happened.

“She’s asking, Caleb,” Sylus says gently. “And I’m tired of being the only one who listens to her.”

Caleb closes his eyes with a heavy exhale. Opens them.

He moves between your legs.

“Closer, sweetheart,” Sylus directs from beside you. “She’s not going to bite. Yet.”

Caleb nods and inches closer on his knees, until the front of his thighs are flush against yours. He takes himself in hand and you open for him, drawing both knees tighter into your chest.

“I don’t—” Caleb starts. “What if I—”

“Just the outside,” Sylus says. “You don’t have to go in. Just feel her against you. That’s all.”

That’s all.

He presses the length of his cock flat against you the way he watched Sylus do, sliding slowly through your slick heat without entering, and the weight of your brother against your cunt makes you forget how to breathe.

“There,” Sylus says from beside you. You watch him wrap his hand around his own cock, stroking it in time with Caleb’s slow rolls, the visual sending a new wave of heat down your spine. “Just like that. Easy, captain.”

Caleb rocks his hips in long drags, hot and devastating as he slides through the wet of everything the night has built. His hand is still on himself, still controlling the angle, still holding onto the last bit of restraint he has left.

“Shit,” he manages. “Sylus, she’s so—feels so—”

“I know.”

“She’s—I can’t—”

“You can,” Sylus assures, gentle and genuine. “You’re fine. She’s fine. It’s just the outside.”

Your hips rock up to meet his on the next stroke, shifting the angle, and the head of his cock catches at your entrance.

All three of you gasp at the same time.

“That’s okay. Just a little is okay,” Sylus says, quieter now. He leans closer to rest a hand on Caleb’s lower back. “You can give your sister just the tip. That’s allowed. That’s nothing.”

“That’s not nothing—”

“It’s close to nothing. Let it happen.”

Caleb rocks forward and the head of him slides in—just barely inside, the tight heat of you closing around the first inch, your legs falling wider open with a small gasp. He collapses forward, free hand fisting into the sheets beside your shoulder. Your mouths open, only inches apart now. His hand tightens around himself like a brake.

“There,” Sylus murmurs. “See? That’s fine. Nothing to be afraid of.”

“I’m not afraid,” Caleb grits out.

“Then go a little further. You can let go of yourself. You don’t have to hold on anymore.” His thumb soothes small arcs on Caleb’s back. “Why don’t you give her a little more. Just an inch. She can take it. Can’t you, sweetie?”

Caleb’s hand releases. He plants it beside your other shoulder.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, more, please—”

Caleb sinks deeper. An inch. Another. His jaw is clenched so hard you can see the tendon at his neck as his eyes lock on yours, searching for the thing that will tell him to stop.

You don’t give it to him.

“More,” you beg. “I can take it. I promise I can take it.”

“Pips—”

“Gege, please. I need you closer. I need more.”

“All the way,” Sylus says, and his hand presses flat against Caleb’s lower back. “All the way, sweetheart. She’s asking so nicely. Give your baby sister the cock she’s been begging for.”

Caleb pushes all the way in.

His forehead drops to yours, eyes squeezing shut. His forearms are shaking where they cage your head, and you’re full of him, completely, finally, and you have never in your life felt more whole.

Your arms come up around his neck, legs wrapping around his waist, and you hold him there, as deep as he can go. Sylus strokes the back of Caleb's head once before returning to your side.

“There you go,” Sylus murmurs. “There. You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

Caleb’s breath shudders against your mouth.

“Give me a second,” he says. “Meimei, give me one second.”

You give him a second. You give him several. You lie there with him buried inside you and his sweat-slicked forehead against yours and your breath mixing in the inch between your mouths and you wait.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

When he moves, it’s in rolls, not thrusts. He moves like he’s terrified of the end of this, like if he goes slow enough it will never stop, and you let him, because you’ve waited years and you can wait a few more minutes.

Sylus settles back against the headboard, stroking himself slowly, watching the two of you with half-lidded eyes, his free hand resting on his own thigh. Occasionally it drifts—brushing a strand of your hair out of your face, giving a reassuring squeeze to Caleb’s forearm. Though you can barely register anything aside from the way Caleb is looking at you the way you always dreamed he would, like he’s burning alive and doesn’t want to be saved.

“Faster,” you plead, gripping his forearms for leverage.

Caleb doesn’t check with Sylus anymore. He goes faster.

You dig your heels into his ass, pulling him impossibly deeper. He groans against your throat, the loudest sound the room has heard all night, and his hips snap forward and the bedframe hits the wall with each thrust and neither of you cares. You’re nothing but two people who have been starving trying to eat at the same time, and it’s too fast and too much and not enough and—

“Caleb,” Sylus says.

His rhythm stutters. “What could you possibly—”

“Kiss her.”

Caleb cuts Sylus a sidelong glare, but he doesn’t reply.

“You heard me, captain.”

Your brother looks down at you, hips still rolling in a steady rhythm. He lowers his mouth to your forehead and presses his lips there. It’s the kind of kiss you’ve received a thousand times—at the airport, at graduation, in the parking lot after games. Safe. Known.

Sylus clicks his tongue, dissatisfied. “Lower, Caleb.”

Caleb inhales sharply, eyes scanning your face, contemplating. His hips have all but stilled, as if he needs all of his focus to fulfill the request. He picks a lower spot—the apple of your cheek—and kisses you there softly.

“Gege,” you whisper against the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah.”

“Please.”

“I know, meimei.”

You tilt your chin up, lower lip brushing his. “Please. Just one.”

Caleb kisses you, and the world falls away.

It’s slow, unbearably slow, just the full, warm weight of his mouth against yours for the very first time. His hand comes up to cradle your face, the gesture so tender you feel the start of tears pooling behind your lashes.

Caleb pulls away a fraction and comes back. His lips part, barely, and yours open to meet them. His tongue finds yours tentatively, nothing like the way he kissed Sylus, and you savor the way it glides against yours like it was always meant to. He tastes like whiskey and copper and Sylus’s skin and underneath all of it like Caleb—not number five, not the hockey captain, but your older brother, the one who taught you to skate when you were nine and held both your hands the whole time and never once let go.

His hips start moving again, each stroke matched to the kiss, each deep roll timed to the slide of his tongue against yours. Your hand moves from his jaw into his hair, and you kiss him back and feel a lifetime of careful distance dissolve like it was never there. Like all those years you thought were keeping something out were really keeping something in, something alive and wound tight and desperate for the chance to break free.

Caleb deepens the kiss, hungrier now, tongue licking deeper against yours as his hips snap forward so hard it’s almost painful.

“There he is,” Sylus says, barely above a breath, hand quickening on himself. “Fuck, look at you two. Let go. Together. Let everything go.”

“Gege,” you manage. “I’m close.”

“I know.” Against your lips. “Me too, meimei. Me too.”

“Don’t stop.”

“I’m not—I won’t—I—”

You both let go.

You break around him. His hips stutter. The sound he makes into your mouth is the twin of the one you make into his, and there’s nothing poetic or graceful about it. He holds your face like he’s trying to live inside the kiss, like if he stays long enough it’ll become something he can keep. You feel his release pulse hot inside you, your own orgasm pulling him in even deeper, and you hold each other through every wave, never breaking the kiss. Not even when he’s shaking, and you’re shaking, and neither of you can breathe.

Beside you, Sylus comes with his forehead tipped back against the headboard and his hand in your hair, fingers tangled loosely in the damp strands at the back of your neck while the two people he brought together fall apart. His exhale is long and heavy and sounds, if you’re listening for it, like satisfaction.

The kiss finally, reluctantly breaks.

Caleb pulls back an inch, resting his forehead against yours, the two of you trading shaky breaths while you wait for the room to stop spinning.

“I just kissed you,” he whispers.

You laugh, and it comes out wet. “You did a lot more than that.”

“Yeah, but—“ He wipes away a tear from your cheekbone you didn’t realize had fallen, his eyes glassy and dark and full of so many emotions your chest aches. “I kissed you, meimei.”

“Yeah, gege.” You grin. “You did.”

He smiles. It’s a smile you’ve know your whole life but never from this close, and from here it simply looks like pure, wild joy. And you think, without deciding to, that you’d burn the entire world to the ground just to see him smile like that twice.

Caleb stays inside you for a long time. His face is in your neck, your fingers in his hair, the two of you so thoroughly entangled your heartbeats are nearly synchronized.

Sylus is the first one to move.

He gets up quietly. You hear the tap run in the bathroom, the sound of a drawer opening and closing. He comes back with a glass of water and a warm cloth, sits on the edge of the bed, and rests a hand on Caleb’s shoulder.

“Out,” he says, gently. “Easy. I’ve got her.”

Caleb pulls out—reluctantly, carefully—and rolls onto his side. He reaches for you immediately, pulling you against his chest, arm heavy over your waist, nose in your hair, like he’s afraid someone’s going to call time.

Sylus cleans you up. Sets the water on the nightstand within reach. Pulls the sheet up over both of you, kisses the top of your head, and goes to the other side of the bed.

He lies down beside Caleb. Not touching, giving the two of you your own space to come down together. Caleb’s palm presses into your bare abdomen, soothing circles over your stomach. And after a minute or two, he shifts backward. Just enough that his shoulders meet Sylus’s chest.

Sylus lifts his arm and drapes it over both of you, over Caleb’s ribs, your waist, his palm settling on your stomach on top of Caleb’s hand.

Caleb exhales. His whole body goes slack against Sylus’s chest.

“Don’t you dare say a word, pretty boy,” Caleb murmurs.

“I’m not saying anything.”

“And don’t bring this up ever again.”

“Bring what up.”

“This. Any of this. Not on the ice, not in the locker room, not ever.”

“Caleb, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m asleep. You’re asleep. She's asleep. Nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Nothing at all, sweetheart,” Sylus confirms. “Though if it had, I’d be putting myself down for the assist.”

“I will smother you with this pillow.”

“That would require you to let go of her first, captain.”

Caleb’s arm tightens around your waist. Sylus’s arm tightens over his. You lace your fingers through both of their hands where they overlap on your stomach and close your eyes.

Somewhere in the living room, the basketball game has ended, the TV humming without an audience. Nobody gets up to turn it off.

Nobody gets up at all.

if u made it this far....thank u for reading, fellow freak ;)

still hungry, sweetie??? -> masterlist | ao3

After a while, though, he realized he wasn’t the only one who could use a little peace and quiet. You had long since finished your slice of chocolate cake, leaving the paper plate with its scattering of crumbs on the chair beside you where Valko had been sitting before another wave of children stole him away. Now you sat beneath the shade of the covered back patio, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone while warm sunlight spilled across the backyard beyond you. Laughter echoed through the air, birds chirped from the trees overhead, and the sweet smell of birthday cake mixed with barbecue and freshly cut grass on the lazy afternoon breeze. Just as someone announced it was time for the piñata, every child erupted into excited squeals before stampeding across the lawn toward the brightly colored prize hanging from one of the trees.

The moment he saw his opportunity, Valko peeled away from the tiny mob and headed straight for you.

“Hey,” he greeted with an easy smile, lifting a hand in a small wave as he walked over. He picked up the forgotten plate of cake from his chair before settling down beside you with an audible sigh of relief, “how ya doing? Bored yet?”

A quiet laugh escaped you. Before you could answer, his large hand reached beneath your chair, wrapped around one of its legs, and effortlessly dragged you closer until the legs scraped softly over the deck and bumped into his with a gentle little clink. Apparently satisfied with the closer distance, he slipped an arm around your shoulders and tucked you comfortably against his side. His broad hand lazily stroked your shoulder in slow, affectionate passes while he looked down at you through relaxed, half-lidded eyes, wearing the kind of soft smile that always seemed reserved just for you.

“I’m fine,” you assured him with a small nod, your hand coming to rest on his broad thigh over the worn denim of his jeans. You gave it a gentle squeeze before teasing, “go have fun. You look pretty happy when you’re terrorizing a bunch of eight-year-olds.”

He let out a hearty laugh, the sound warm and unrestrained as he subconsciously pulled you a little closer beneath the comfortable weight of his arm. Stretching one long leg out in front of him, he settled farther back into his chair, looking out over the backyard where a dozen children tore across the grass in every direction. Their laughter carried through the warm afternoon air beneath the cheerful chaos of shrieks, bouncing balls, and adults talking over one another beneath the covered patio and gazebo of tables.

“Not my fault one of those little rascals stole and hid my keys,” he said with an amused shake of his head, watching them with the fond exasperation only family could inspire, “they had it comin’.”

You couldn’t help smiling as you watched him. It was rare to see Valko this relaxed. There was no tailored suit, no lab coat no assassin’s cloak, no meetings, no responsibilities beyond surviving the relentless affection of his younger relatives. His green flannel sleeves had been rolled neatly to his elbows hours ago after the first game of tag, the top buttons of his shirt left undone against the Spring warmth, and despite spending the afternoon being climbed on like an oversized jungle gym, he still looked perfectly content. This was a side of him few people outside his family probably ever saw, and it suited him surprisingly well.

The peaceful moment lasted only a few seconds before you felt his attention shift beside you. It was subtle enough that most people probably wouldn’t have noticed, but you had begun learning the little tells that came with loving a werewolf. His gaze snapped away from the yard in front of him toward something farther off before yours even had a chance to follow, his posture becoming just a touch more alert as one of the children’s voices caught his attention.

“Hey! Fenris,” he called, his voice carrying easily over the backyard without sounding harsh. Your eyes followed his line of sight until you spotted the little boy clutching a bright red ball. He froze mid-step the instant he realized Valko had seen him, “give Luna the ball back. It’s her turn.”

The little boy immediately threw his head back with a dramatic groan, “but! Cous, she—”

“—No I didn’t!” The little girl shouted over him before he could finish, “cous, he—”

“—Fenris,” Valko interrupted, his tone remaining calm but firm enough to end the argument before it had the chance to escalate, “ball. Now. C’mon.”

The little boy sighed as though he’d been dealt the greatest injustice of his young life before begrudgingly holding the ball out. The moment the little girl grabbed it, she smacked it free from his hands, stuck her tongue out at him with a triumphant grin, and sprinted across the yard in a fit of giggles. He let out an indignant yell and immediately tore off after her, disappearing back into the pack of children while several adults hardly noticed the exchange. You felt Valko shift beside you, already preparing to stand and referee whatever inevitably happened next, but before he could lift himself from the chair, you rested your hand over his broad thigh and gave it an affectionate squeeze to keep him where he was.

“They have parents,” you reminded him gently, leaning just a little closer until your shoulder rested comfortably against his.

“Yeah, but you know my booze-loving uncle,” he huffed, allowing himself to sink back against the chair instead as he folded his broad arms across his chest. His eyes never quite left the children, though there was more fondness than frustration behind them, “he gets two drinks in him and then just disappears. And then he wonders why his youngest are little hellhounds off leashes.”

Despite not being one of the elders of his clan, Valko was still its leader. The distinction mattered. The elders held authority over tradition, counsel, and the customs that had guided the werewolf clans for generations, but when people needed someone to follow, someone to trust, someone to carry the weight of everyone else’s worries, they instinctively turned to him. Responsibility seemed to settle onto his shoulders as naturally as breathing. He was always the first to notice when someone needed help, the first to step between conflict before it could grow, and the first person everyone sought out without even thinking about it. Strength had earned him leadership, but the quiet way he cared for everyone around him was what made them willing to follow.

Ironically, the very people who usually insisted on rank and tradition seemed to vanish the moment a backyard full of children needed supervising. The older generation had long since settled into comfortable conversations elsewhere, enjoying the afternoon while the parents of the youngest children relaxed just a little more than they normally would. It wasn’t intentional neglect so much as quiet confidence. They all knew Valko was there.

And if Valko was there…The kids were safe. He was the only one among his cousins and siblings who didn’t have children of his own yet, which somehow made him the designated babysitter every single family gathering. The little ones absolutely adored him. They clung to his legs, begged him for piggyback rides, demanded another game of tag the second the last one ended, and somehow convinced the six-foot-two chairman of EonCore Tech to chase them around the yard pretending to be a monster every single time. They laughed harder with him than they did with anyone else, and watching him throw himself so wholeheartedly into their games made it painfully obvious why he was everyone’s favorite cousin.

But you had also begun noticing something everyone else seemed to miss. The little moments. The tired sighs he thought no one heard. The way he rolled his shoulders when the children weren’t looking. The quiet glances he’d steal toward you whenever he needed a breather before another tiny voice inevitably called his name again. He loved them. God, he loved those kids. But sometimes loving everyone meant forgetting to take care of himself. Sometimes he was the one who needed someone looking out for him.

“Why don’t we get away from it all for a bit?” You suggested softly, reaching over to take the paper plate from his hands after he scooped up the last bite of chocolate cake you’d left for him, “you said I could nap in one of the guest rooms if I got overstimulated, right? What if we both take a nap together?”

He chewed thoughtfully, though it was obvious he was mulling over far more than the last bite of cake. For just a moment, you thought you had him. Then that familiar, responsible expression settled across his handsome face.

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head as he swallowed, “the kids are gonna be running around looking for me the moment I disappear. There’s no rest for the wicked.”

You sighed dramatically, rolling your eyes with affectionate exasperation.

“God forbid you get away for an hour or two,” you teased, “come on.”

Before he could even begin forming another excuse, you stood, walked the few steps to the nearby trash can, and tossed the empty plate away. By the time you returned, he was only just opening his mouth to protest. He never got the chance. You slipped your fingers around his wrist and gave him a firm tug.

“C’mon.”

Without the slightest resistance, he rose obediently from the chair, letting you pull his considerably larger frame to his feet. The corners of his mouth had already started curling upward into a helpless smile. For all his stubbornness, he was remarkably easy to lead whenever you took charge with just enough confidence.

“Alright,” you said, lacing your fingers through his hand as you guided him toward the house, “here we go…”

You slipped out of your shoes by the door, the action reminding him to do the same. The instant you stepped inside, the atmosphere changed. The muffled shrieks of children softened behind the walls, replaced by quiet conversation, the low hum of music drifting through the open living room, and the occasional burst of laughter from relatives gathered around the kitchen island with drinks in hand. Sunlight spilled through the tall windows, warming the polished hardwood floors while the cool air-conditioning wrapped around your skin like a welcome sigh of relief after the sunny brightness outside.

You glanced back over your shoulder at him with a grin, “lead the way, puppy.”

He let out a warm, hearty laugh, the sound rumbling effortlessly from his chest as he rolled his eyes with exaggerated resignation, his dimples deepening beneath the grin that never seemed to stay off his face whenever you teased him, “whatever ya say, little master.”

A soft giggle slipped out before you could stop it, and you happily relinquished the lead, allowing him to guide you instead as he started toward the grand staircase. You had only managed two steps behind him before his arm suddenly slipped around your waist. The movement happened so effortlessly that your feet barely had time to register leaving the floor before a surprised little yelp escaped you. His other arm scooped beneath your knees with practiced ease, and in one fluid motion you found yourself swept up against the broad warmth of his chest, securely cradled in his strong arms as though you weighed next to nothing. The subtle scent of his cologne mixed with fresh air and sunshine enveloped you immediately, and your breath caught when you instinctively looked up to find him already smiling down at you.

God…That smile. The corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly around those brilliant golden irises, his sculpted cheeks pushing upward into those impossible dimples that never failed to make your stomach betray you. Heat bloomed through your chest and fluttered lower before you could stop it, and you let out the quietest little whine of embarrassment as your cheeks warmed. You very nearly buried your face against his chest, suddenly aware that the two of you were still walking straight through the middle of his family’s house while several relatives lingered nearby with drinks in hand, chatting between themselves.

“Do you have to do that in public??” You whisper shouted, lifting your hand just enough to flick him lightly against the prominent convex of his brow bone.

“Ow!” He scrunched his face dramatically, shaking off your tiny assault as though you’d inflicted a grievous wound before immediately looking back down at you with that same hopelessly pleased grin, “hey, I’m just guarding my emergency rations.”

A laugh escaped you as you rolled your eyes, unable to help yourself while you gently prodded a finger against the firm muscle of his chest, “wow, the big bad wolf’s so territorial.”

“Y’know what? I am, actually—” he answered without the slightest trace of shame, proudly nodding as though that were simply an undeniable fact.

The declaration lasted all of two seconds before one of his feet clipped the edge of the next stair. You felt the sudden hitch in his stride beneath you as his body lurched forward. He recovered almost instantly, catching himself before either of you came anywhere close to falling, but the stumble had already happened. His arms reflexively tightened around you with surprising force, drawing you securely against his chest until there wasn’t even the slightest gap between your bodies. His protective instincts overtook his pride without hesitation, making absolutely certain you hadn’t shifted an inch in his grip before he even thought about his own embarrassment.

“Shit, my bad,” his confident grin vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by immediate concern while his eyes searched your face, “you okay, hun?”

You bit the insides of your cheeks so hard they almost hurt, desperately trying to contain the laughter threatening to spill out. He’d gone from confidently carrying you through the house like some impossibly suave hunk to tripping over his own feet in the span of a heartbeat, and somehow that only made him infinitely more charming.

“Yes, my darling prince,” you answered, your voice thick with barely restrained amusement as your smile stretched wider and wider. You reached up to affectionately pat his chest, unable to hide the fondness sparkling in your eyes while he looked so adorably flustered trying to pretend nothing had happened, “you’re as suave as you are—…Endearing, Valko.”

Before he had the chance to sink too deeply into his own embarrassment, you reached up with an amused smile and gently scratched beneath his chin. The reaction was immediate. His entire expression softened before your eyes, every ounce of flustered dignity melting right off his face as though your fingertips had flipped some hidden switch inside him. His eyes relaxed into warm little crescents, and without even realizing he was doing it, he leaned into your hand, happily following the touch while he continued carrying you up the staircase. The movement was so instinctive, so shamelessly natural, that it made your heart swell. You couldn’t help giggling as you caught the faint blush blooming over the tips of his ears, the soft pink spreading despite all his attempts to stay composed.

“Who’s a good boy?” You whispered through another teasing laugh, your voice dripping with exaggerated baby talk as though you were praising an enormous, overgrown puppy instead of the imposing leader of an entire werewolf clan.

“Shhh,” he whispered back, unsuccessfully biting down on a laugh of his own as the corners of his mouth twitched upward. His pace noticeably quickened, long legs carrying the two of you farther down the hallway before anyone downstairs could overhear your merciless teasing, “quiet…”

“Oh?” You grinned, thoroughly delighted by how easily he’d taken the bait, “who’s a good booooy?!”

This time you didn’t stop at his chin. Both of your hands dove eagerly at the warmth of neck, your fingers happily scratching beneath his jaw before working higher along the strong column of his throat. The delighted little noises he tried so desperately to swallow only encouraged you further as you affectionately scruffed him, watching his composure unravel by the second. He looked like he was fighting for his life not to laugh, his shoulders beginning to tense beneath his flannel while his smile stretched wider and wider despite every hopeless attempt to hide it.

Then you saw it. The unmistakable twitch at the base of his lower back. A heartbeat later, a muffled thump echoed down the hallway. His tail. It smacked enthusiastically against the corridor wall once…Then again. Then faster. You barely had time to laugh before a pair of soft auburn wolf ears sprang up from the cover of his hair, betraying him completely. They perked straight toward you, twitching with every affectionate scratch you gave him while his tail wagged so enthusiastically behind him that it continued bumping against the wall in an utterly futile attempt to contain itself.

Completely busted, Valko hurriedly set you back onto your feet, though it was obvious he wasn’t escaping anything. The moment your bare heels touched the hardwood floor, you took one playful step toward him. He instinctively took one back. Another. You followed. He retreated again until his broad back gently met the hallway wall with nowhere left to go.

“Say it,” you demanded between mischievous giggles, closing the last bit of distance until he was comfortably boxed in by your much smaller frame.

He looked down at you with the most wonderfully resigned expression, already knowing he’d lost. A helpless sigh escaped him as he surrendered completely, allowing the weight of his head to fall into your waiting hands. Your fingers slipped effortlessly into his soft auburn hair before finding those sensitive wolf ears again, scratching gently behind them in slow, practiced circles. His eyelids fluttered almost immediately, and he obediently bent lower to make it easier for you to reach, practically melting beneath your touch until he looked less like the feared leader of a powerful clan and more like the world’s happiest oversized puppy.

“Fine, fine,” he murmured, the words accompanied by another hopeless little laugh as he leaned shamelessly into every affectionate scratch, “I’m a good boy…”

You giggled with quiet satisfaction, thoroughly pleased with yourself as you rewarded his reluctant confession by rising onto your toes and planting a loud, affectionate smooch against his chiseled cheek. His skin was still pleasantly warm beneath your lips, the faint flush lingering there as he let out another helpless little laugh before straightening to his full height once more. Towering over you again, he slipped his large hand around yours without a word, his fingers naturally lacing through yours as though they had done it a thousand times before, and gently guided you farther down the empty hallway.

The farther you walked from the staircase, the quieter the house became. The cheerful sounds of the birthday party softened into a distant blend of muffled laughter, children’s excited voices, and music drifting faintly upward from downstairs, creating a comforting backdrop rather than the overwhelming commotion it had been outside. When you reached the final door at the end of the hall, Valko turned the handle and eased it open just enough to peek inside. Ever vigilant, his golden eyes swept across the room for a brief second before he seemed satisfied. He stepped aside, gently ushering you in ahead of him before quietly closing the door behind the two of you. The soft click of the lock echoed through the room, and with it came an immediate sense of privacy.

The guest room was understated by Ao family standards, though “simple” still meant something far grander than most people would consider ordinary. The room was spacious and modern, decorated in warm neutral tones that made it feel inviting rather than extravagant. A large, plush bed dominated the center of the room, dressed in crisp linens that practically begged someone to collapse into them. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across one wall, their sheer curtains billowing gently in the AC’s trajectory while filtered bands of afternoon sunlight painted soft golden stripes across the floor. It was peaceful. Bright. Comfortable. It was exactly what both of you needed.

The moment the door had clicked shut behind him, Valko let out a long, exhausted sigh that sounded as though he’d been holding it in all afternoon. Without a shred of ceremony, he shuffled a few steps forward before allowing gravity to claim him entirely, pitching face-first onto the enormous bed with all the grace of a tree being felled, “timberrr!”

Thump. His entire body bounced once against the plush mattress before settling there, sprawled dramatically across the blankets. You couldn’t help snorting. The sound of his theatrical collapse was immediately followed by a muffled groan of relief from somewhere beneath the pillows, making you laugh as you wandered over to the bedside. Resting one hand against the back of his broad thigh to steady yourself, you drew your other hand back before delivering a firm, playful smack squarely against the rounded muscle of his jeans-clad ass. The clap echoed pleasantly through the quiet room. He let out another muffled laugh into the comforter, his shoulders shaking beneath his flannel shirt.

“Outdoor clothes,” you reminded him with an amused shake of your head, your voice warm with affection rather than scolding. Your hand lingered long enough to give his undeniably firm, ridiculously squeezable ass a thoroughly self-indulgent squeeze, earning yourself the silent satisfaction of feeling the solid muscle beneath the faded denim, “damn, baby cakes…No pun intended…”

His tail reacted before he did. The large, fluffy appendage gave an indignant little twitch before lazily swishing across the bed with enough enthusiasm that the thick fur nearly smacked you straight in the face. You burst into another laugh, batting the oversized tail away with the back of your hand.

“Oh, right,” he remembered, a sheepish little laugh escaping him as he pushed himself back upright.

Valko rolled his shoulders before stretching his arms high over his head, a satisfying series of cracks traveling down the length of his spine as he arched backward with a relieved groan. The afternoon of chasing children had clearly done a number on him. He lingered there for another moment before his hands found the buttons of his forest-green flannel, casually working them open one by one. The fabric slipped from his broad shoulders before landing in an unceremonious heap on the floor, quickly followed by the fitted tank top beneath it. Warm sunlight spilled across the sculpted lines of his sun-kissed torso as he reached for his belt, the quiet clink of the buckle filling the peaceful room while you stepped out of your denim shorts, letting them puddle around your ankles.

You shrugged out of the oversized jacket he’d draped around your shoulders earlier that afternoon to shield you from the light breeze outside, smiling to yourself at the lingering warmth and faint woodsy scent that still clung to it before laying it neatly across the nearby chair. Across from you, Valko stepped out of his jeans, absently nudging them aside with one foot as though the simple act of getting comfortable already had him relaxing.

The moment you pulled your shirt over your head, you barely had time to set it aside before you felt his hands suddenly settle around your waist. A surprised gasp escaped you. Before you could even ask what he was doing, his powerful arms effortlessly lifted you off your feet, stretching you high toward the ceiling as though you weighed almost nothing at all. The sudden rush of movement sent a burst of exhilaration through you, and your hands instinctively shot out to grab hold of his sturdy forearms for balance while laughter bubbled up from somewhere deep in your chest. He looked entirely too pleased with himself. Those brilliant golden eyes sparkled with mischief as he looked up at you, his fanged grin growing impossibly wider the moment he realized you’d surrendered completely to being tossed around like his favorite chew toy.

“Get over here,” he chuckled.

With effortless precision born from having done this countless times before, he tossed you toward the center of the enormous bed. You landed exactly the way you liked. The plush mattress swallowed your weight before springing you gently upward again, sending you bouncing once, then rolling across the crisp sheets in a fit of delighted laughter as the soft bedding wrapped around you.

You had barely managed to roll onto your back before the mattress dipped dramatically. There he was. With absolutely no dignity whatsoever, Valko launched himself after you, pouncing onto the bed with all the unrestrained enthusiasm of an oversized puppy who’d finally found his favorite person after being apart for far too long. His weight sent the mattress bouncing beneath both of you, and your laughter blended together until it echoed warmly through the quiet guest room.

Then, thunk. His prominent brow bone collided squarely with your forehead. The impact wasn’t hard enough to hurt either of you badly, but it was more than enough to make both of you recoil at the exact same moment.

“Ow!” You complained in perfect unison, laughter immediately dissolving into identical grimaces as your hands flew to your foreheads. The ridiculous timing of it only made the whole thing funnier, and even through the brief sting, you could already feel another fit of laughter threatening to bubble right back out.

Just as the two of you were recovering from the self-inflicted collision, a chorus of tiny footsteps came thundering down the hallway outside. The rapid patter against the hardwood grew louder by the second, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of excited little voices bouncing off the walls.

“Cous?? Helloooo??”

“Uncle?? Are you in heeeeere??”

Both of you froze. Your laughter died in your throat so quickly it almost caught there, and before you could even think to react, Valko’s large, warm hand gently settled over your mouth. His eyes met yours for only a brief moment, silently asking you to stay still. You nodded ever so slightly beneath his palm as the room fell completely quiet around you. Outside the bedroom door, the tiny footsteps stopped. His family was made up of werewolves. Even the children possessed senses that put your own completely to shame. You held your breath without meaning to, listening as the little voices lowered into conspiring whispers just outside the door.

“Can you smell him?”

“Yeah,” another little voice answered with complete confidence, “he’s in here!”

Valko closed his eyes for the briefest second before letting out the quietest sigh through his nose. His free hand came up to pinch the bridge of his crooked dorsal hump with the kind of long-suffering resignation that suggested this was far from the first time he’d been tracked down by a determined pack of children. When he opened his eyes again, he looked back at you and silently mouthed the words, “my niece…”

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. A tiny fist knocked enthusiastically against the door.

“Uncle!! Can you come play?” His niece called through the wood with all the earnest determination only a child could possess, “you said you’d give me another piggy back ride!”

The corners of Valko’s mouth twitched despite himself. You felt the amused breath escape behind his hand before he reluctantly peeled it away from your lips, raising his voice just enough for it to carry through the closed door.

“Uncle’s busy!” He called back, warmth and apology woven together in his voice, “I’ll give ya piggy back rides later…”

A thoughtful little silence followed.

Then another tiny voice spoke up.

“Well—…What about Auntie Y/n??”

Your heart melted. The nickname was still so new that hearing it caught you completely off guard. The children had only started calling you that today, gradually adopting it one after another as the afternoon wore on and they became more comfortable with you. Every time one of them had said it, it had sent a little flutter through your chest, and somehow hearing it now, through the bedroom door, made it feel even sweeter. Before you had the chance to answer, Valko was already smiling to himself.

“Auntie Y/n and I are really tired,” he replied, effortlessly coming to your rescue before you could even open your mouth, “we’re gonna take a quick nap. Why don’t you kids go play in the pool already? It’s nice and sunny!”

A collective chorus of disappointed groans rose from the other side of the bedroom door, followed by a reluctant scattering of tiny voices mumbling half-hearted agreements. You listened as the little pack slowly gave up their search, their footsteps shuffling down the hallway before gradually breaking into a run. A second later, the sound of them thundered down the staircase in a stampede of laughter and excited chatter, already arguing about whatever game had captured their attention next. Children really did move on that quickly. One moment they were determined to hunt Valko down, and the next they’d completely forgotten the last ten seconds ever happened.

You found yourself watching the pair of auburn wolf ears still perched atop his head as they remained angled attentively toward the door, twitching ever so slightly while he listened to the retreating footsteps. They rotated with remarkable precision, tracking the children all the way down the hall, down the stairs, and finally back outside into the backyard. Only when the last traces of their voices disappeared into the distant chorus of the birthday party did his ears visibly relax, the tension leaving them as they settled naturally again. He let out a long, quiet sigh of relief, and you couldn’t help smiling to yourself as the weight seemed to melt from his wide shoulders all at once.

“Told ya I can’t get a break,” he said with a lazy, tired smile, amusement softening every word as his fingers absentmindedly slipped into your hair.

He brushed a few loose strands back from your face with the gentlest touch, his thumb lingering briefly against your temple before his hand settled comfortably along the side of your head. His eyes rested on you with that familiar warmth that always seemed to quiet the rest of the world, “see, this is why I’m always passing up all these family reunions and I just show up to the important ones. It’s not because of you. It’s ’cause I hate all the small talk with the adults and eventually I start getting a headache from all the kids screaming and running around.”

You believed him. There had been a time, early on in your relationship, when you’d quietly convinced yourself he kept you away from his family because he was ashamed, or not taking you seriously. It had seemed like the obvious conclusion. A werewolf clan wasn’t exactly the place you’d ever imagined belonging, and you’d spent longer than you’d ever admit wondering whether bringing you around would somehow embarrass him or complicate his standing within the Ao family.

Over time, though, you’d come to understand how wrong you’d been. It had never been about shame. It had never been about hiding you. If anything stood between the two of you and the approval of certain members of his family, it wasn’t shame; it was tradition. Old expectations. Old rules. Generations of customs that insisted things should be done a certain way simply because they’d always been done that way.

And Valko…Valko simply didn’t care. He respected his elders, but he refused to let them dictate the course of his own life. He’d made that abundantly clear from the very beginning. Whatever opinions they held, whatever expectations they carried, none of them had ever outweighed what he wanted. And what he wanted was you. Not because biology had declared you his genetically chosen mate. Not because instinct demanded it. Not because fate had handed you to him. He wanted you because somewhere along the way he’d fallen hopelessly, unapologetically in love with the woman lying beneath him. Every teasing laugh, every stubborn argument, every quiet conversation, every moment you’d shared had become another reason for him to choose you again and again with complete certainty.

Bringing you here today hadn’t been an obligation. It had been a statement.nHe hadn’t invited you to a quiet dinner where only a handful of relatives would see you. He’d brought you straight into the middle of a children’s birthday party, surrounded by nearly the entire family, and held your hand through every room, every introduction, and every curious glance without the slightest hesitation. He’d carried you through the house in broad daylight, wrapped his arm around your waist whenever he pleased, and looked at you with the same unguarded affection whether anyone was watching or not. He wasn’t trying to provoke anyone. He simply refused to pretend you were anything less than the woman he loved.

Even if a few of his grandparents had barely acknowledged him throughout the afternoon. Even if some relatives had kept their distance. Even if the older generation still struggled to reconcile centuries of tradition with the path he’d chosen. None of it changed the way he looked at you. You wore the ring he’d given you; a piece anyone connected to the Ao clan or EonCore Tech would recognize immediately, and his familiar scent always lingered softly on your clothes, your skin, your hair from the countless little embraces and kisses he’d steal. Every quiet gesture spoke for itself.

You had never wanted to come between him and his family. You’d spent months hoping you wouldn’t become a source of tension, never wanting to be the reason old wounds or disagreements surfaced. But Valko had never once wavered. He had made his choice long ago.

“I know, honey,” you murmured, and this time you meant it with complete sincerity.

A soft smile warmed your face as you looked up at him, feeling the rough pad of his thumb drift gently across your lower lip with a tenderness that made your chest ache. There was something so effortlessly affectionate about the way he touched you, as though every little caress was second nature, every brush of his fingers another quiet reminder that he was happiest whenever the two of you were close.

You reached up and cupped the warm strength of his neck between your palms, your fingers disappearing into the soft auburn hair at his nape as you gently pulled him down to you. He met you halfway. Your lips found his, and the kiss immediately deepened. It wasn’t hurried or desperate. It was slow, warm, and full of everything neither of you needed to say aloud. You could feel the quiet gratitude in the way he kissed you, the lingering appreciation for stealing this little pocket of peace away from the noise downstairs. His lips lingered against yours before he reluctantly drew back just enough to look you over, his golden eyes tracing your face with unmistakable fondness.

With another contented sigh, he carefully lowered himself over you, instinctively supporting most of his weight on his forearms so he wouldn’t crush you beneath his much larger frame. You immediately disagreed. Your arms tightened around him, fingers curling into the powerful muscles of his back as you tugged him closer, silently asking for more of him than he intended to give.

Valko let out a quiet, amused breath through his nose before finally surrendering, relaxing the rest of his considerable weight into you until his broad chest settled fully against yours. The plush mattress welcomed the both of you as his six-foot-two frame comfortably flattened you beneath him, pressing a soft breath from your lungs in the most satisfying way imaginable. You adored moments like this. The sheer size of him surrounding you, the solid warmth of his body blanketing yours, and the comforting heaviness of his embrace made you feel impossibly small beneath him in a way that sent a quiet flutter through your chest. He was built like a wall of warm muscle, and you shamelessly loved every ounce of it.

Apparently, so did he. His face disappeared into the crook of your neck as though he couldn’t get close enough, his nose nudging gently against your skin before he began nuzzling you with slow, contented affection. You felt each deep inhale ghost warmly across your throat as he breathed you in again and again, almost greedily, covering you with his familiar woodsy scent while surrounding himself with yours until they mingled together so completely that they became impossible to separate. A weak little giggle escaped you as you tilted your head to give him easier access, smiling at the way he seemed intent on filling his lungs with nothing but you.

Your own hands wandered lazily across the broad landscape of his naked back, savoring the shifting strength beneath warm skin as your fingertips traced familiar paths over powerful shoulders before drifting lower. Eventually, they found the faint ridges of healing scratches you’d left behind the night before, and your touch instinctively softened as you followed each tiny mark with absentminded affection. The memory of how they’d gotten there lingered pleasantly in the back of your mind, drawing another quiet smile to your lips as your palms continued exploring every broad inch of the man comfortably draped over you.

Somewhere in the middle of simply holding each other, you became aware of another subtle change. A growing firmness rested lightly against the inside of your thigh through the snug fabric of his briefs, almost tentative at first before becoming a little more noticeable each time he sighed contentedly against your neck. It wasn’t hurried, nor was it demanding. It felt like the quiet, instinctive response of a man who loved being close to you, whose body had always been as honest as his heart. The warmth of your embrace, the lingering kisses, your wandering hands, the comfort of finally escaping the noise downstairs, and the simple intimacy of lying tangled together were more than enough to stir him, and you couldn’t help smiling to yourself as you felt his cock slowly growing harder against your leg.

It never seemed to take very much. Sometimes all Valko needed was the chance to hold you, breathe you in, and melt into your arms before his body quietly betrayed just how deeply every little touch, every shared breath, and every ounce of closeness affected him.

“Let’s get inside,” he said then, pushing himself up off you with an easy smile.

You both reached for the blankets together, peeling them back before slipping beneath the cool, silky sheets. The fabric glided pleasantly against your warm skin, a welcome contrast to the lingering Spring warmth outside, though neither of you bothered pulling the comforter any higher than your legs. There was hardly any point when Valko radiated enough warmth to rival the afternoon sun itself. He had always been your own personal furnace, and before you’d even fully settled into the mattress, you already knew exactly how the two of you would end up.

You rolled comfortably onto your side, smiling to yourself as he instinctively followed. Just like always, he gathered you into him from behind. His broad, bare chest molded against your back as he gently pulled you closer until there wasn’t the slightest bit of space left between your bodies. The sheer size of him seemed to swallow you whole in the safest way imaginable, his six-foot-two frame naturally enveloping yours until it felt less like being held and more like disappearing into the warmth of a living, breathing blanket. One heavy arm settled snugly around your waist, drawing you flush against him with lazy possessiveness, while his other slipped beneath your neck before curling over your shoulder. His large hand came to rest against your bare upper arm, and his fingertips began tracing slow, absentminded circles over your skin so delicately that a pleasant trail of goosebumps bloomed in their wake.

You sighed softly, completely giving in to him. When he lazily nudged one long leg between yours, you welcomed it without a second thought, letting yourself sink farther back against the familiar shape of his body until you fit together as naturally as two puzzle pieces. The steady rise and fall of his breathing warmed the back of your neck, his heartbeat thumped gently against your spine, and the faint scent of sunshine, fresh air, and his woodsy cologne wrapped comfortably around you. The two of you let out quiet sighs at almost the exact same moment, your bodies relaxing together as every lingering ounce of tension melted away beneath the comforting tangle of blankets, limbs, and familiar affection.

“This is the fucking life,” he murmured happily behind you, his deep voice rumbling sleepily through his chest and vibrating pleasantly against your back, “the sun’s shining…Birds are chirping…Pups are playing outside screaming their little heads off…”

A quiet laugh escaped you as you melted farther into his embrace, instinctively snuggling closer until there wasn’t the slightest space left between your bodies. You arched ever so slightly, pressing your back more firmly against the broad warmth of his chest, and the contented little squeeze that immediately answered from his arms told you he’d been hoping you’d do exactly that. His embrace tightened around your waist with sleepy affection, holding you as though the simple act of keeping you close was as necessary as breathing.

It was impossible not to notice the growing firmness resting against the curve of your ass through the thin layers of your underwear and his briefs. It nestled there naturally, warm and unmistakable, not demanding anything of you so much as quietly betraying how profoundly he responded to nothing more than lying tangled together like this. It made you smile. Valko had always been hopelessly honest with his body, and somehow that vulnerability only made moments like these feel all the more intimate.

Everything around you seemed to settle into a peaceful rhythm. You felt him breathe you in again. His nose buried itself against the side of your neck, drawing another long, slow inhale that lingered until it filled his lungs completely, and the arm around your waist tightened almost unconsciously. His large hand wandered over your bare skin with slow, absentminded affection, kneading your hip and side as though he wished he could somehow mold you even closer to him. It was never enough. No matter how close you already were, he always seemed to crave another inch, another touch, another breath of you, and there was something undeniably endearing about how unapologetically clingy he became whenever the two of you were finally alone.

Truthfully…You couldn’t get enough of him either. The slow rhythm of his breathing against the back of your neck sent pleasant shivers dancing beneath your skin, every warm exhale making the fine hairs along your arms stand on end. His steady heartbeat pulsed comfortably against your back while the comforting heat of his much larger body wrapped around you like another blanket, coaxing you into melting even farther into his embrace. Without even thinking about it, you arched your spine just enough to nestle yourself more snugly against him, pushing the soft curve of your ass back into the warmth of his groin.

The quiet little movement earned an immediate response. He let out the faintest contented breath against your neck as his hips instinctively followed yours, smothering himself flush against you until there wasn’t the slightest space left between your bodies, “God, c’mere…”

You almost shuddered at the syrupy mutter by your ear. The growing firmness beneath the thin fabric of his briefs settled naturally against you, warm and unmistakable, while his large hand slipped lower to your hip, kneading the bare skin there with slow, possessive affection before giving you a lingering squeeze that drew you even closer. He seemed almost desperate to erase the last traces of distance between you, holding you as though no amount of closeness would ever truly satisfy him, and the quiet need in that simple gesture sent another wave of warmth unfurling low inside you.

The quiet intimacy lingered for another heartbeat before you felt him shift. He rose just enough behind you for his face to find your ear, and a ticklish giggle escaped you as the gentle scrape of his fangs caught your earlobe in the lightest teasing nip. The playful bite was immediately soothed by the softness of his lips, which barely brushed beneath your ear before trailing feather-light along the curve of your jaw. Every lingering kiss sent another pleasant shiver racing down your spine, and warmth slowly unfurled low in your stomach as you relaxed beneath the quiet affection of his touch.

He lingered there for a moment, breathing you in once more before speaking in that warm, shameless voice of his, so close that the words ghosted across your skin, “babe…Can I put it in you?”

You let out an exaggerated little gasp, twisting just enough within the warmth of his embrace to glance back over your shoulder. Your eyes met his heavy-lidded golden gaze, watching it slowly travel over your face with that familiar mixture of tender affection and shameless need that always made your stomach flutter. He looked thoroughly intoxicated by you already, and the quiet yearning softening his features somehow made the enormous werewolf behind you seem impossibly sweet despite the unmistakable heat simmering beneath the surface.

“At your family’s house?” You chided softly, “Valko…”

“Please?” He pleaded, his voice dropping into that warm, hopeful murmur that always surfaced whenever he wanted something from you badly enough to stop pretending he had any dignity. His fingertips were already wandering lazily over the curve of your hip, stroking slow circles into your bare skin before slipping lower to trace the elastic band of your panties with featherlight affection that made your skin pebble beneath his touch, “it’s ot like either of us are gonna make a ruckus, I just wanna be inside you…”

God. He could be so unbelievably, endearingly pathetic. The quiet honesty in his voice melted whatever teasing resistance you’d been pretending to have left. Smiling to yourself, you reached down between your thighs and hooked your thumbs beneath the waistband of your panties, slowly easing them down over your hips. Valko barely let you do any of the work before his large hands eagerly joined yours, helping guide the fabric over the swell of your ass with unmistakable impatience, though every touch somehow remained impossibly gentle. The thin material slipped down to your thighs, bunching there while his eyes lingered shamelessly on the newly exposed curve of your body, drinking you in with the kind of appreciation that always made heat bloom through your chest.

His turn came just as quickly. He hooked his own briefs down his hips, impatiently shoving them past his thighs before stubbornly kicking the tangled fabric somewhere toward the foot of the bed without bothering to look where they landed. The quiet huff of determination it took to free himself made you smile to yourself, because even now, when all he wanted was to hold you, Valko still somehow managed to be adorably clumsy.

His hand returned to you immediately. It settled warmly against the small of your back before gliding lower, encouraging rather than forcing as you instinctively arched away from his chest. You gave him exactly what he was silently asking for, lifting your hips just enough for your lower back to curve while he kept your ass aligned with him. The position tilted your pelvis backward, leaving your pussy presented beautifully behind you, and the stretch through your body felt surprisingly good as his broad palm lingered there, proudly admiring the view you’d given him.

A quiet breath escaped your lips. You were already soaked. You could feel it yourself before he ever touched you. Behind you, his cock had grown fully hard from nothing more than holding you, breathing you in, and feeling your body melt against his, and the moment he finally guided himself closer, you felt the warm, heavy head of his cock drag slowly through the slickness gathered between your folds. He didn’t rush it. He simply traced himself along your wet pussy from behind with agonizing patience, coating himself in you with one slow, deliberate glide that made your breath catch in your throat. The intimate drag of him against your slick heat sent a delicious shiver rolling through your spine, and you couldn’t help arching a little farther into him, silently inviting more as he breathed out a quiet, satisfied sigh against the back of your neck.

“You’re wet,” he whispered with delight, carefully aligning himself behind you.

“Mm…” You answered lazily, your voice soft with contentment as you reached back and cupped one side of your ass, gently pulling yourself open to give the monstrosity you knew his cock was the room it always demanded.

It was a familiar ritual by now. No matter how many times the two of you had made love, the sheer size of him still required patience, your body instinctively preparing itself to welcome something so much larger than you. You felt the warm, velvety head of his cock nudge teasingly between your slick folds, gathering another slow coating of your arousal before he eased himself forward. The pressure built gradually, deliciously, until the thick crown finally breached your tight entrance, stretching you open around him with an intimate fullness that drew matching gasps from both of you. Your eyes fluttered shut as your walls instinctively hugged him, slowly yielding inch by inch while your body greedily welcomed him deeper, the delicious ache blooming through your hips and lower belly in a way that made your toes curl beneath the sheets.

Instinct took over before you even thought about it. Your hand reached back to grip his powerful forearm where it rested behind you, your fingers squeezing hard enough to feel the firm muscle shift beneath your palm as you quietly braced yourself for the seemingly endless stretch of him. He entered you with painstaking patience, letting your body accommodate every thick inch instead of rushing, his breathing growing slower and heavier against the back of your neck while your pussy fluttered and tightened around him, drawing him farther inside with every shallow breath you took.

The steady pressure only continued until, at last, his chiseled hips settled flush against the soft curve of your ass, burying themselves there with a slow, indulgent smother that left you feeling impossibly full. His free hand immediately sought your hip, gripping it with just enough firmness to ground himself against the overwhelming relief of finally being where he’d wanted to be, and a warm sigh escaped him into your hair before he leaned down to press a lingering kiss against the crown of your head. The tender little gesture sent a trail of goosebumps dancing down your spine, the contrast between his immense size and his quiet affection making your heart swell just as much as your body.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. You simply felt him. You felt the slow, steady pulse of his cock buried so deeply inside you that every faint throb reverberated through your sensitive walls, and your own body answered with involuntary little squeezes that seemed to make him melt all over again. The room had fallen wonderfully still around the two of you. The sounds outside drifted through the room like distant echoes while the two of you remained tucked safely beneath the cool sheets, hidden away in your own quiet world.

Valko gathered you even closer without a word. His hips gave a few absentminded little nudges, not real thrusts so much as sleepy, instinctive attempts to smother himself impossibly deeper, as though his body simply refused to accept that there could still be even the slightest space between you. Every tiny movement coaxed another delicious wave of fullness through you, making you unconsciously press your ass back into him while he held you tighter, his broad chest rising and falling comfortably against your back.

Eventually, the restlessness melted completely out of him. A happy little hum rumbled deep within his chest as his large hands began wandering once more, mapping your body with slow, affectionate reverence. His palms drifted over your waist, your stomach, your hips, your arms, memorizing every familiar curve as though he still hadn’t quite convinced himself you were real. No matter how many times he touched you, it never seemed enough. He loved you with his hands just as much as with his words, constantly seeking reassurance through closeness, through warmth, through simple contact.

A long, contented sigh escaped him. He draped himself lazily over you again, his heavy body settling comfortably around yours until you were wrapped once more beneath the comforting weight of his embrace. The tension gradually drained from his muscles as the peaceful afternoon worked its quiet spell over him, and after several slow, sleepy breaths, you felt the firm pulse of him nestled inside you begin to soften ever so slightly, his body relaxing completely now that he’d found exactly where he’d wanted to be all along.

“Thank you…” He whispered, his voice warm with sleepy contentment as he nuzzled into the crown of your head and pressed another lingering kiss into your hair. His arms tightened around you almost imperceptibly while he breathed you in with another quiet sigh, “man, I’ll take this over piggyback rides any day.”

A soft, drowsy laugh escaped you, the sound muffled against the pillow as you settled more comfortably into the comforting weight of his embrace. His body still surrounded yours completely, warm and heavy in the most reassuring way imaginable, his chest rising and falling slowly against your back while the steady rhythm of his breathing threatened to lull you toward sleep.

“I mean,” you murmured with amused innocence, “I think most men would prefer pussy over kids steering them around by the hair. Right, Uncle Valko?”

The laugh that burst out of him rumbled deliciously through his chest, vibrating straight through your back where you remained tucked safely against him. His whole body seemed to shake with quiet amusement, and you couldn’t help smiling as the sound wrapped around you just as comfortably as his arms did.

“That’s a good point,” he admitted between chuckles, giving your waist another absentminded squeeze as though he couldn’t help himself, “hopefully by now they’re all bugging their parents.”

He let out a contented sigh before burying his face against your hair again.

“I’m on permanent do-not-disturb,” he murmured warmly.

“And what if they come up here again?” You asked, turning just enough in his embrace to glance back at him over your shoulder.

His expression softened immediately when your eyes met. One of his hands slipped from your waist to your face, his broad palm cradling your cheek while his fingers lovingly swept a few loose strands of hair behind your ear. His fingertips lingered there, gently combing through your hair before slowly raking across your scalp in a way that sent pleasant little shivers dancing down your neck. He smiled at you with that impossibly fond look that always made it seem as though there wasn’t another person in the world worth looking at.

“I’ll call their parents and explain that I’m busy with a certain some—”

Your elbow found his ribs before he could finish.

“Ow!” He yelped, immediately grabbing your forearm with exaggerated offense while a laugh threatened to betray him all over again, “kidding, babe. Damn. Relax.”

You couldn’t stop the satisfied smile spreading across your face, “good.”

Turning back toward the pillow, you nestled comfortably against him once more, deliberately tugging his arm tighter around yourself until there wasn’t an inch of distance left between your bodies. You pulled his hand beneath your cheek, using his warm palm as an absurdly comfortable pillow while your fingers curled around his wrist in an affectionate hug. He didn’t protest in the slightest. If anything, he looked entirely pleased to have become part of your bed.

“I’ll fucking kill you if you do,” you mock threatened.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what you always say, Hunter Girl,” he teased, a lazy smile spreading across his face as he playfully pinched your cheek between his fingers. Before you could retaliate, he leaned over you to nuzzle affectionately against the side of your face, pressing a lingering kiss to the cheek closest to him before rubbing his nose lightly against your skin, “you can’t get rid of me even if you tried. We’re bound together forever, destined to fight to the death to protect our kin.”

A quiet, weary sigh slipped from your lips, though it carried more thought than exasperation as you stared toward the sunlight spilling softly through the sheer curtains, “…You really think it’ll always be that way, with werewolves and humans?”

You felt him grow a little quieter behind you. His smile didn’t disappear, but it softened into something gentler, something touched by the weight of reality as he let out a slow breath against your hair.

“…I think we’re making a big step together towards a brighter, more peaceful future,” his voice dropped just enough that you could hear the conviction beneath it, warm and steady against your ear, “a great example that not everyone’s bad. Not everyone’s an enemy or prey.”

He paused for a moment, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand where your fingers remained wrapped around his wrist.

“But…I’d be lying if I told you it’s enough to change centuries worth of bloodbaths overnight. That’s gonna take years and years, if it even happens…” He sighed quietly, the sound carrying a sadness that wasn’t hopeless so much as accepting, “…And if it does, we won’t be around to see that kind of future. We’ll be long dead.”

The words settled heavily inside your chest. Not crushing. Just… Bittersweet.

The peaceful warmth of the room suddenly felt a little more fragile as your thoughts drifted farther ahead than they usually allowed themselves to go. You pictured decades slipping by, generations living lives neither of you would ever witness, and for a moment it became painfully clear just how small a single lifetime really was. The realization made your fingers tighten instinctively around his forearm, holding him a little more firmly as though you could somehow anchor both of you to the present.

He noticed immediately. Of course he did. Without saying another word, Valko shifted even closer until more of his considerable weight settled comfortably over you. His broad chest molded more completely against your back while his arms tightened around your waist in a slow, protective squeeze, surrounding you until you were completely enveloped in his warmth. He buried his face beside yours, brushing his nose affectionately along your cheek before pressing another lingering kiss there, his lips warm and impossibly gentle.

“It’s okay, don’t overthink it,” he murmured softly, his deep voice vibrating through his chest where it rested against your back.

He hugged you tighter, every ounce of his affection poured into the quiet strength of his embrace as though he wished he could physically shield you from worries that hadn’t even happened yet.

“Look at it this way. Whether everyone around us likes it or not, we’ll go down in history,” a faint smile returned to his voice, “we’ll carve a path that hopefully future generations can follow. Even though we won’t be around to see it, maybe our kids will. Or maybe their kids will.”

“…Yeah,” you whispered.

Your eyes drifted toward the sunlight stretching across the floor as your thoughts wandered somewhere beyond the quiet guest room, beyond the birthday party still carrying on outside, and beyond the comfortable peace the two of you had stolen for yourselves that afternoon. You found yourself imagining a future neither of you could fully predict, one filled with difficult choices, impossible expectations, and countless battles that had nothing to do with claws or weapons. Loving each other had never been the hard part. It was everything surrounding that love that would test you, and deep down you knew the resistance you’d faced so far had barely scratched the surface. This was only the beginning.

Valko let out a quiet, bittersweet laugh behind you, the sound rumbling softly through his chest where it rested against your back. His arms remained comfortably wrapped around your waist, holding you close as though he couldn’t imagine spending a single second any farther away from you than this.

“Hey…” He whispered, his voice carrying that familiar mixture of warmth and melancholy, “fate’s a bitch, ain’t it?”

A quiet laugh puffed out through your nose as your fingers instinctively curled around the large hand resting beneath your cheek. His palm had long since become your pillow, warm and solid against the cool silk of the pillowcase, and you gave it an absentminded squeeze as you smiled to yourself.

“It really is,” you sighed softly, “why did it have to be you?”

He simply shrugged, though you felt the movement ripple through the broad wall of muscle pressed against your back.

“Who knows?” He answered easily, “maybe we’re meant to be the people who make a meaningful change. Maybe that’s why both of us evolved from the same primordial soup under the same circumstances. ‘Cause we’re meant to be together.”

He paused for only a heartbeat before a quiet chuckle escaped him.

“Hell…I feel lucky, honestly,” he admit, “not every werewolf finds his or her mate in life. Some never do. Most never do.”

Your brows drew together. You turned just enough within his embrace to look back at him, your head resting comfortably against his broad chest as surprise flickered across your face, “wait, really?”

“Well, yeah,” he replied, blinking at you as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, “I mean…What are the chances? With how many living beings inhabit the planet?”

He let out a quiet breath through his nose, shaking his head with a small, disbelieving smile.

“It’s damn near impossible to find your mate. Your true mate. Not just someone that smells good to you, but the person who smells like your missing half,” his thumb slowly stroked across the back of your hand while he spoke, absentmindedly tracing the same comforting path over and over, “so a lot of us settle. Just like humans do. We have a lot in common when it comes to partnership…But that’s one thing that sets us apart.”

His smile grew softer.

“I knew it was you the moment I smelled you for the first time,” the corners of his mouth twitched upward with amusement, “I mean, granted, you decked me in the fucking face and it was hate at first sight…”

A hearty laugh burst out of you before you could stop it, the memory replaying so vividly in your mind that you could practically feel the sting in your knuckles all over again. Back then, Valko hadn’t been the warm, affectionate man wrapped around you beneath cool sheets on a peaceful Spring afternoon. He’d been the enemy. The infuriating, arrogant werewolf standing directly in your way. You’d wanted absolutely nothing to do with him, and judging by the black eye you’d happily given him that day, your feelings had been made abundantly clear.

Life had a twisted sense of humor. Out of everyone in the world…It had paired the two of you together. Valko watched you laugh for another moment, his expression growing impossibly tender as though seeing you smile like that was reward enough for every hardship the two of you had endured to reach this point. He reached up with his free hand and gave your cheek another gentle pinch, his fingertips lingering there affectionately before cupping your face.

“But…” His voice grew quieter, steadier, every word carrying the weight of complete certainty as he searched your eyes, “I love you. Not just ’cause of biology.”

His thumb brushed slowly across your cheek, and the small smile he wore was so genuine it almost made your chest ache.

“I really do love you, Y/n,” he enforced.

You smiled back up at him, warmth blooming through your chest at the quiet sincerity in his eyes, unable to stop your own smile from growing a little softer in return, “I love you too, Val…Even with how punchable of a face you have.”

A hearty, genuine laugh burst out of him, rich and unrestrained, the sound vibrating pleasantly through the broad chest pressed against your back. His large hand rose to cradle your face, gently scooping your cheek into his warm palm before he leaned in to steal another kiss. His lips lingered against yours for a moment before brushing your nose with his own in an affectionate little nuzzle. You smiled against his mouth, your heart feeling impossibly full.

It was true. You loved him more deeply than you ever thought yourself capable of loving another person. Somewhere between becoming allies, becoming friends, and eventually becoming lovers, Valko had woven himself so thoroughly into the fabric of your life that you could no longer picture where yours ended and his began. You craved his company before anyone else’s. You laughed until your stomach hurt because of him. You trusted him with every vulnerable piece of yourself, and somewhere along the way, he’d begun trusting you just as completely with every vulnerable piece of himself.

Together, you’d become something steady, something unshakable despite every obstacle that had tried to tear you apart. He was your safe place after every difficult day, your greatest comfort, your loudest laugh, your strongest shoulder, your fiercest protector, and somehow also the man who needed you just as much as you needed him. You genuinely couldn’t imagine walking through the rest of your life without him so deeply intertwined with your own.

The quiet guest room seemed to breathe around the two of you as you settled back into the peaceful tangle of limbs beneath the cool silk sheets. The world beyond the room continued moving without you, but inside these four walls, time itself seemed content to slow. Neither of you spoke again for a while. You simply existed together. His fingertips continued their slow, absentminded journey across your hip, tracing gentle circles that buzzed pleasantly beneath your skin until you hovered somewhere between wakefulness and sleep.

Every lazy caress coaxed another contented sigh from your chest, your body relaxing more completely into the familiar weight surrounding you. At some point, your bra disappeared beneath the blankets with quiet, sleepy cooperation, neither of you even remembering who had reached for the clasp first, and not long afterward you lazily nudged your panties down the rest of your legs with absentminded little kicks until they vanished beneath the cool sheets alongside his discarded briefs.

Still…Neither of you actually fell asleep. You drifted. Half dreaming. Half awake. Wrapped so comfortably around one another that every slow breath, every heartbeat, and every tiny movement blurred together into a comforting haze. Valko’s hand never stopped wandering. It continued exploring you with the same quiet affection it always had, molding naturally to the curve of your hip before gliding over your waist, your stomach, your thigh, your arm, never lingering long enough to feel intentional and yet never quite settling anywhere else either. It was simply the way he loved you. He loved with touch. With closeness. With quiet reassurance that you were there, safe beneath his hands, and every slow pass of his broad palm seemed to say everything words no longer needed to.

Eventually, your own hand found his. Without opening your eyes, you gently curled your fingers around his larger hand and guided it higher, settling his warm palm over the soft fullness of your bosom while you remained curled comfortably on your side against him. The position naturally pressed your breasts together beneath his broad hand, and the contrast between his calloused skin and your softer warmth sent a pleasant shiver through you. His fingers flexed almost instinctively as they rested there, the rough pads grazing lightly across your sensitive nipples while his palm molded comfortably to your body. The gentle contact lingered, unhurried and familiar, and before long you found yourself becoming increasingly aware of every subtle stroke, every tiny shift of his hand, and every quiet sensation blooming beneath his touch until the simple intimacy of being held like this began stirring something warm and restless deep inside you once again.

Apparently…It was doing something to Valko as well. You felt it before you saw any other sign of it. The comfortable fullness of him nestled inside you gradually changed, the soft warmth slowly firming as his cock began to swell again within the welcoming confines of your body. A quiet, satisfied sigh escaped your lips as you felt him throb, each slow pulse spreading deliciously through your sensitive walls while he steadily hardened, growing more solid with every passing heartbeat. At nearly the same moment, his thumb lazily swept across your nipple in one slow, indulgent stroke, the rough pad of his fingertip grazing the sensitive peak just enough to coax a pleasant shiver from the base of your spine.

Oh…Your stomach fluttered. Was this really heading where you thought it was? It was. God…It absolutely was. Without either of you speaking a single word, his broad hand slowly drifted away from your breasts, lingering over the soft curve of your body as it traced a leisurely path down your stomach. His palm molded comfortably against your waist before continuing lower until it reached your thigh. His touch remained unhurried, almost absentminded in its tenderness, yet there was unmistakable purpose beneath every movement. Gently, he guided your upper leg a little higher over his own, subtly adjusting the way your bodies fit together until your hips naturally opened beneath the warmth of his embrace. The new angle exposed you more fully to him, and his fingertips began the slow climb back up the inside of your thigh.

Every inch of skin they crossed seemed to wake beneath his touch. His fingers wandered higher with infuriating patience, featherlight against your warm flesh until they finally brushed your slick clit. The contact was so gentle it almost wasn’t there. Almost. A slow, buzzing warmth unfurled through your lower belly, making your breath catch as a delicious current rippled upward through your body. You instinctively tightened around him, your walls fluttering in response to the sensation, and the involuntary squeeze drew a warm sigh from Valko as he answered with a slow, appreciative press of his hips. He settled himself just a fraction deeper, the quiet movement accompanied by another contented breath that spilled warmly into your hair.

Nothing needed to be said. You understood each other far too well for words. You simply lifted your leg a little higher against him, silently giving his large hand more room to move. He accepted the invitation immediately. His fingertips began tracing slow, practiced circles over your clit, every deliberate stroke measured with the kind of familiarity that only came from loving you as intimately as he did. The rhythm was gentle, patient, almost reverent, while his hips answered in kind. He began moving inside you with the same quiet devotion, drawing himself back only enough to ease forward again in slow, affectionate strokes that let you feel every thick inch gliding through your welcoming warmth. The steady fullness of him filled you so completely that each unhurried movement seemed to melt straight through your body, drawing another soft sound from somewhere deep in your throat as pleasure gradually pooled lower and lower inside you.

Your hand reached back instinctively until your fingers found the sharp contour of his hip, holding onto him while he continued moving with sleepy, contented rhythm. Behind you, his other arm tightened protectively around your upper body, his broad hand spreading across your shoulder as though he couldn’t bear the thought of letting even an inch separate the two of you. His chest remained comfortably molded against your back, every slow thrust carrying the steady warmth of his body with it while his lips occasionally brushed your hair in absentminded kisses.

It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t driven by overwhelming urgency. It was slow. Tender. Deeply affectionate. Yet somehow that only made every sensation feel more consuming. His fingers never lost their patient rhythm, circling exactly the way he knew your body liked best after loving you enough times to understand every little reaction before it happened. Every practiced stroke over your sensitive clit blended seamlessly with the languid roll of his hips, each gentle movement feeding into the next until your body responded almost on instinct. Warmth spread through you in slow waves, your breathing growing softer and less steady as pleasure steadily gathered beneath the surface. Your eyes drifted closed, your head relaxing back against his shoulder while the familiar heat coiled lower in your stomach far faster than you expected, tightening with every affectionate touch and every unhurried stroke until it hummed through you with quiet, irresistible intensity.

But Valko was unraveling behind you. Every slow roll of his hips drew another deep, shaky breath from his chest, the sound vibrating warmly along your back before dissolving into the quietest moan. He sounded utterly blissed out, lost somewhere between the lazy rhythm of his cock filling you and the comforting intimacy of simply holding you this close. There wasn’t an ounce of urgency in the way he moved. Every slow, deliberate thrust buried itself into you with indulgent patience, his hips rocking forward until they nestled flush against the soft curve of your ass before easing back only enough to begin the journey all over again. His cock glided through your slick pussy with an intimate fullness that seemed to melt the tension from every muscle in his body, and judging by the contented sounds spilling from his lips, he wasn’t thinking about anything in the world except how impossibly good you felt wrapped around him.

His fingertips, however, told a different story. While his hips remained slow and languid, his fingers had gradually found a quicker rhythm over your clit, each practiced little circle coaxing another pulse of heat through your body until your thighs trembled ever so slightly. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew exactly how your body responded, exactly how to build you higher without ever rushing you there, and the quiet confidence born from loving you so many times only made every touch feel infinitely more intimate.

His breathing grew heavier. Quicker. Needier. The sound alone sent a pleasant shiver racing beneath your skin, every warm inhale brushing the back of your neck before spilling into another unsteady sigh. His entire body seemed to radiate quiet want, surrounding you completely until it felt impossible to tell where your own warmth ended and his began. He tucked himself even closer behind you, his broad chest molding more firmly against your back while his arm instinctively tightened around your upper body, drawing you impossibly deeper into the shelter of his embrace. Then his lips found your ear.

“Oh, fuck…” He breathed, his voice rough with barely restrained pleasure, each word ghosting hotly across your skin, “oh my God…”

His next slow thrust drew another helpless sound from somewhere deep in his chest before he whispered your name with such naked reverence it made your heart skip.

“Y/n…” He breathed hotly, “Y/n, your pussy…”

Your entire body tightened around him. The low, lewd rasp of his voice poured straight into your ear like warm, rich honey, thick with want and so utterly sincere that it stole the breath from your lungs. He had absolutely no right saying your name like that. No right making it sound so treasured, so adored, so devastatingly erotic that every syllable seemed to settle beneath your skin and bloom there. It wasn’t just the words themselves. It was the way he said them, every ounce of need woven openly into his voice without embarrassment or restraint, as though speaking your name while buried inside you was the most honest thing he’d ever done. A pleasant wave of goosebumps rippled across your arms. Your pussy fluttered helplessly around him again.

“Shit,” he groaned, the word slipping out on another shaky breath as his broad hand spread firmly across your stomach, holding you securely against him while his other hand quickened over your clit.

The slow, affectionate rhythm of his hips never faltered, each deep stroke filling you completely before easing away only to sink home again with the same indulgent fullness.

“Baby…” His voice cracked ever so slightly beneath the weight of his own longing, “let me knot you…”

Another slow thrust, another desperate breath against your ear.

“Oh, let me knot you…” His voice lowered with need.

Heat surged violently into your cheeks at his plea, blooming all the way down your neck as the image alone sent another pulse of desire curling low in your stomach. You could already feel the first signs of it happening inside you. His hips pressed more firmly against the curve of your ass from behind, the slow, loving rhythm taking on a deeper, more instinctive urgency as though every part of him was quietly surrendering to something older than thought. His large hand tightened over you without becoming rough, anchoring securely across your stomach, keeping you exactly where he wanted you while the other fingered you. It wasn’t force. It was need. Pure, aching, animal need that poured through every deliberate roll of his hips as he continued rutting into your slick, welcoming pussy with slow, passionate devotion.

You could feel every powerful muscle working beneath his skin. Every flex of his abdomen. Every subtle shift of his hips. Every inch of his body moved yours along with it as he rocked into you, his thick cock gliding so deeply through your pussy that each unhurried thrust seemed to melt another layer of tension from your body. His fingertips never lost their practiced rhythm over your clit, circling with infuriating precision until the mounting pleasure became almost unbearable. The steady, delicious friction coaxed the first involuntary flutter from your tight walls, your pussy squeezing him so suddenly and so completely that a broken groan escaped his throat behind you.

“You’re so close…”

The sound alone sent another rush of heat through you. You felt him throb harder inside you. Then you felt something else. The unmistakable swell gathering at the base of his cock began to press more insistently past your entrance, gradually growing thicker with every slow, deep stroke. It made his rhythm change almost without him realizing it. He stopped drawing himself as far back, each thrust becoming shorter, deeper, more possessive than the last as though his body had already decided it wasn’t letting you go anywhere. Every roll of his hips buried him until he met that delicious resistance, his cock settling into a depth that made your breath catch as the growing knot teased insistently at your body. The sensation alone sent your thoughts spinning, your stomach burning hotter and hotter with every passing second while his thumb continued rubbing slow circles over your swollen clit with unwavering devotion.

You were trembling now. Your thighs quivered. Tiny, helpless twitches rippled through your body as pleasure steadily tightened lower and lower inside you, your breathing dissolving into soft, broken whispers while his strong arms held you securely through every shudder. You could barely keep still. Every affectionate thrust, every slow grind of his hips, every practiced stroke of his fingers coaxed another helpless squeeze from your pussy around his cock until you weren’t sure whether you were clinging to him or simply falling apart in his arms. Your nails dug into his forearms without thinking, holding onto the solid strength beneath your fingertips as though he were the only thing keeping you grounded while the tightening coil inside your belly wound itself impossibly tighter.

“Do it,” you urged, your voice escaping in nothing more than a breathless whisper, every word trembling with anticipation as you surrendered completely to the overwhelming warmth building inside you., “w-want you to knot me like last night…”

Your lifted thigh finally gave out beneath the mounting intensity, dropping back down as your legs instinctively squeezed together around his wrist. The movement trapped his hand exactly where you needed it most, and before you were even consciously aware of what you were doing, your hips began helplessly rocking against his palm. You shamelessly humped the steady pressure of his hand, chasing every practiced circle of his fingertips over your swollen clit while he answered with growing desperation of his own. His touch became just a little quicker, just a little firmer, every stroke perfectly familiar after loving you enough times to know precisely what your body begged for when you were this close. At last, heaven graced you.

The tightening coil inside your stomach snapped. Pleasure exploded through you in a blinding wave of white-hot ecstasy that stole every coherent thought from your mind. Your entire body seized in his embrace as your pussy clamped down around his thick cock, fluttering violently while your back arched into the broad wall of his chest. A helpless cry tried to tear its way out of you, but Valko’s free hand rose immediately to cover your mouth, his warm palm gently muffling every broken sound as you trembled uncontrollably against him.

“Cumming,” you cried breathlessly into his hand, your voice dissolving into desperate little whimpers as each pulse of pleasure rolled through you harder than the last, “I’m cumming, Val…I’m cumming, I’m cumming…”

“C-cum on it,” he practically growled, his voice rough, tight, and trembling with overwhelming bliss as he shuddered once, then again, his entire body quaking against yours, “fuck yeah…Cum on it, baby…Just like that…I’m—…Oh God, I’m about—…”

Your climax squeezed him relentlessly. Every helpless flutter of your tight walls milked another broken groan from somewhere deep in his chest, and then you felt him finally let go. Warmth surged deep inside you in slow, powerful pulses, each release painting your insides with familiar heat that spread through your body in delicious waves. You had grown to love that feeling almost as much as you loved the man giving it to you, and you sighed helplessly into his palm as every pulse seemed to melt another piece of you beneath the quiet intensity of the moment.

He was shaking. You felt it everywhere. His thighs trembled against yours. His chest quivered against your back. Even the arm wrapped protectively around your waist tightened instinctively as though he needed something solid to anchor himself while wave after wave overtook him. His hips settled completely flush against the soft curve of your ass, refusing to leave even the slightest space between your bodies while he held you as close as physically possible, his cock seeking its deepest home inside you as his body slowly surrendered to its own overwhelming relief.

Then you felt it. The knot finished swelling. The thick base of him gradually expanded until it settled securely inside you, stretching you with slow, insistent fullness that left him comfortably lodged where he belonged. There was nowhere else for either of you to go now, and neither of you seemed remotely interested in trying. His hips gave one final, lazy press before relaxing completely, and a long, slow breath poured from his lips as every powerful muscle in his body finally loosened beneath the comforting haze of exhaustion.

Valko became deliciously heavy against you. His heartbeat hammered steadily through his chest into your damp back, strong enough that you could feel every beat while his warm skin glistened faintly with the sheen of sweat gathered from the slow, affectionate intensity you’d shared together. His breathing gradually evened out into long, contented sighs as he remained wrapped securely around you, making no effort whatsoever to move away. Instead, he simply nuzzled into your hair once more and pressed the softest kiss to the crown of your head, lingering there as though he couldn’t resist one more quiet expression of affection.

His fingers, still slightly shaky from everything you’d just shared, resumed their slow, absentminded caresses over your stomach and arm, tracing gentle paths across your skin while a blissfully content hum rumbled from deep within his chest. You could hear the smile in it before you ever saw it, and somehow that quiet, happy sound was every bit as intimate as the embrace that still held you so completely in his arms.

You stayed like that for a long while, neither of you feeling the slightest urge to move. The room had fallen beautifully quiet again, save for the slow rhythm of your breathing gradually finding each other until your inhales and exhales seemed to rise and fall in perfect unison. His embrace never loosened. If anything, the enormous werewolf only seemed to melt more completely around you, holding you with the same instinctive tenderness he’d shown from the moment you’d slipped beneath the blankets together. His hand continued its lazy, absentminded journey over your stomach, your waist, and your arm, every slow caress so familiar and reassuring that it felt less like touching and more like quietly reminding himself you were still there.

His face rested against your hair, and every now and then he would press another feather-light kiss to the crown of your head, the gesture so absentminded it felt entirely instinctive. A contented little hum still rumbled in his chest from time to time, vibrating softly through your back as though happiness itself had settled somewhere deep inside him.

Your eyelids gradually grew heavier. The steady beat of his heart against your back, the comforting warmth of his body surrounding yours, and the slow, affectionate rhythm of his wandering fingertips gently pulled you toward sleep one soothing moment at a time. Nestled securely in his arms, you let yourself drift, your breathing evening out as the last lingering thoughts quietly dissolved beneath the simple comfort of being exactly where you belonged.

“You look exhausted,” Valko says to you from where he lounges on the couch. “Another bad day?”

You’ve been disassociating so much the last few weeks that you actually tended to forget that you cohabitated with another person. Rather than being able to sulk in your feelings and waste away from the never-ending disappointment, your roommate wasn’t exactly the kind of man to let you if he had any say.

When you decided to share a space with one of your closest friends, especially one with a personality as out there as his, you figured it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Although it took you a few days to consider his offer, eventually you knew that the benefits were far too great and as time progressed, it proved to be a dynamic going strong for the last three years.

Where you kept to yourself and avoided the unnecessary, he was quick to speak up and make his voice heard. Truly, it was perfect.

You just never anticipated being the one who would be forced to hear it the more your frustrations and grievances became harder to mask.

You kick off your shoes and remove your cardigan in silence, intentionally ignoring him and focusing on whatever commercial that had put a pause to the media he was streaming.

“Am I asking for trouble if I say anything else?” he adds as you plop yourself down on the couch next to him and take a piece of beef jerky from the bag he’s nearly finished with.

“You're so greedy.” He raises a brow and tilts his head with confusion like a lost puppy at your comment.

“You do know that you’re the one eating my snack, don’t you?”

“I thought you didn’t mind sharing with me.”

“I don’t mind. Not at all.” He pauses his wildlife documentary, clearly ready to keep the conversation going and for all of his attention to stay on you. “But you’re the one raiding my stash and calling me names. Then you don’t even say hi. Do I mean nothing to you?”

“You just got this bag this morning and it’s already pretty much gone, dude,” you chuckle. “Greedy, dramatic, and sensitive.”

“You’re pivoting, you know? Not very good at being subtle about it either.”

You didn’t want to talk about it. You really, really didn’t.

You didn’t want to explain what he clearly already knew and didn’t feel like hearing the same reassuring words that weren’t doing anything to ease your constantly racing mind.

Valko leans over and snags the practically empty bag from you and tosses it somewhere out of your reach.

“What the hell is your problem—”

“You’re trying to shut me out again and I’m not letting you do that.”

“Does it kill you to not overstep?”

“That was so damn cheap.”

“How about add nosy to the list while we’re at it.”

“Concerned is more like it,” he corrects. “Why are you pushing yourself so hard when I told you to ease up? You do know that besides being your roommate, I am your friend. And friends don’t let their friends do and experience shit alone. You’re not doing this by yourself and I wish you stopped acting like you are.”

Already, you want to cry. Again.

The tears burn behind your glassy eyes and the uncomfortable tingle in your jaw makes it tick with the urge to let the waterworks flow freely.

Ever since you’ve been trekking through these unexpected hardships, Valko has been covering everything. Rent, groceries, utilities—the whole nine yards. He made you promise to not dip into your savings or to overwork yourself to try compensating for anything he wasn’t expecting of you.

What should’ve been relief had been a nightmare for you ever since.

You’ve always been able to have his back in some way, always have been able to be a dependable counterpart in your two-party pack. But ever since you lost your job, you’ve had to lean on him 100% and never have you ever felt so helpless.

Sure, his job does pay well. Very well, in fact. So much so that necessities and wants for both you and him were expenses he had no qualms about paying.

When he suddenly told you that he planned on seeing what it was like to be a camboy a few years back simply because he had the face and body for it, to say you were stunned was an understatement. At the time, he quite literally said one of his biggest reasons for contemplating such an idea was because he was “bored”. You weren’t one to discourage him if he had the confidence for it either.

Valko’s always been one to try his hand at something if he figured he’d be good at it. Combine that with his carefree-like approach to almost anything he sets his mind to, it shouldn’t be shocking that not only was he right in his assumptions of anticipated success, but he practically became one of the best known in the business what felt like overnight.

Working independently, it wasn’t long before agencies were reaching out and established workers wanted to work with him. Playing his cards right, he chose to remain solo, but when he partnered with the right people and produced the content the fans were begging for, his popularity and finances boosted exceptionally in record time.

To some extent, it’s been a rollercoaster for the both of you. He had to adjust to the recognition and demand while you had to do the same with all the things that could possibly come with the territory of having one of your closest friends be both your living partner and someone who has sex with others on camera.

You felt guilty for your lack of contribution irregardless of the reassurance he gave you and with the sincere look on his face, you were almost certain he could see it.

“We’ve already talked about this, Val.”

“So why does it seem like you still don’t get it?” He sighs, placing his hand on your head and making you turn it to face him instead of the coffee table like you’ve been doing this whole time. “It’s pretty bogus, if you ask me.”

He raises an eyebrow when you sit there silently with such a defiant expression, chuckling at the pouty lips and blank stare.

“Because you don’t get it. You’re not in my position, how could you even?”

“I don’t have to be. I know which one I’m in and I told you what it’s gonna look like until something changes. Nobody’s rushing you around here but you. Funnily enough, you’re the one that doesn’t see that.”

“Oh, you’re sooo inspirational,” you comment sarcastically as you drag out your words. You go to remove his hand from you. Ignoring the truth in his words helps you cope. “Let’s get this one a talk show.”

But he doesn’t let you discard his touch so easily, hand slipping down to the back of your neck to evade your move. He sees the way you tense as much as he can feel it, smiling to himself when your eyes widen and your lips press together.

“Nervous, huh?” Valko’s thumb swipes across your nape gently. “It’s always so easy to mess with you.”

He’s a friend. He’s always been a flirt. Don’t read too much into it.

“You’re so annoying. Get off me.”

“You think just because you’re wallowing in your emotions that I’d let you off easy?”

“Off,” you repeat, trying to shrug him away, but to no avail. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for work anyways? Isn’t that guy coming by? Caleb or whatever?”

Valko raises his arms in amused defeat as he follows your stern order. “He cancelled today. Had something come up. I was gonna tell you later.”

Then that meant… “What about the stream you have to do today?”

“I’m still doing it, just by myself. Probably won’t be as fun for everyone since he can’t make it, but I’m nothing if not resourceful.”

If they were truly present in your head, certainly the both of you would’ve been capable of hearing the gears turning.

You stay with the egregious thought for a minute—a long minute, actually.

Valko, a popular and overly loved camboy with copious amounts of supporters. A job where he makes and earns money in real time. Thousands of fans in one stream surely has to equal the same in revenue, at least somewhat.

You don’t have a job.

You need something to not feel so awful.

It’s quick and relatively harmless.

But this is your friend. This will change the dynamic drastically—forever. Maybe he could handle it, it’s just work to him after all. Another day in the “office”. But could you? Do you want to add more turmoil to your already raging flame?

“Can I...” You stop yourself.

Should you really be asking this? Are you ready for something so extreme and sudden? But the opportunity is sitting in your face and begging to be taken.

“Can you what? Don’t give up, I believe in you,” he jests, leaning into you slowly and close to nudging you with his shoulder.

You push him away immediately and ignore his exaggerated look of betrayal. “Could you be serious?”

“If you could finish your sentence, I can think about trying.”

Rolling your eyes and huffing out a shaky breath that he hears too clearly, you muster up the courage. Or whatever this kind of audacity is.

“What if… what if I take his… place?”

The room falls silent. Too silent. For a second, you think you might’ve actually stopped his heart.

“… What the fuck.”

Not what you were hoping to hear, but it’s a fair reaction nonetheless.

“We don’t have to show my face,” you urge. “I don’t want to show it at all, actually. Just hear me—”

“Are you insane? Absolutely not.”

He doesn’t get to shut you down like this. Maybe it’s the adrenaline coming from what you’re genuinely considering or the desire to make some kind of progress in something that’s been so dormant, but if he would just work with you.

“I’ve been feeling like shit for months, Valko!” He freezes at your voice raised so suddenly, gaze flickering between your clenched fists and avoidant eyes. “Maybe it’s just desperation. Maybe this is so irresponsible of me and… and m-maybe I’ll regret it in the future. But I can’t keep sitting here and failing, okay?”

“How many times do I have to tell you—”

Your head shakes immediately to swat away what’s supposed to be uplifting if you’d let him finish.

“I trust you. I trust you get where I’m coming from and why I’m trying to do this.” You move closer to him, trying not to let it sting when he watches you warily like you’re not in your right mind. “If you don’t want to do it with me, I rather you just say that. But… but I can do it. If you let me, Val, I can show you. Please.”

He tries to ignore the way his dick twitches from the softness that claims your tone. His sweatpants feel like they've suddenly shrunk three sizes and are suffocating him. But the way you cling to him, how you beg…

“I don’t want to take advantage of you being in such a vulnerable place, pup. That’s not my style.”

“You aren’t if I’m asking for it. I want… I want to feel like I’m doing something—that I’m helping and that I believe it in my own terms.”

His features soften. He’s always given you everything you wanted. How could he deny you when you come to him like this? Even with his concerns, he can’t ignore the temptation.

“… Nothing’s gonna change about us? You won’t run when it’s done?”

Your head moves side to side, decision firm and resolute. “I promise not to.”

It’s been hours since you had that conversation and only now were your nerves trying to get the best of you when the act itself was this close to happening.

Seeing Valko live and in his element was different from watching behind a screen in secret. Of course you watched him from time to time, it wasn’t abnormal to be curious. How could one not be?

Were you proud to say that you’ve seen your friend’s cock? Or that you’ve seen what he looks like when his strong thighs are covered in his cum? Or how he sounds when he edges himself for over an hour? No, not really. But you’d be lying if you said you regretted seeing or enjoying it.

The minute he started, having you sit beside him and out of view until it came time to do what the both of you were there for, his stream was flooded with donations, comments, and viewers, instantly.

It almost made you nauseous, seeing the number of watchers jump from 0 to 20, 500, then surpassing the thousands faster than you could blink. He gave them that flirtatious banter and cocky energy effortlessly, teasing a few supporters and playfully reprimanding others for their smutty dialogue.

This was easy for him, at least it had become so with time, and it forced you to observe with admiration.

He didn’t even have to do anything different outside of who he is naturally, simply sitting at his desk and staying dressed in the same comfortable attire you found him in after coming home.

There was something about Valko that you could never put your finger on, and that amplified as you paid close attention to the way he interacts with the people who love him and his body.

valsbabydoll: isn’t caleb supposed to be here today??

locawerewolf: can we get to itttt

valkosprincess: he’s so sexy, i’m dripping

“Don’t be mad at me,” he smirks, eyeing the way they urge him to reveal what he’s been holding onto. “But Caleb couldn’t make it tonight.”

You can already sense the kind of reaction he’ll get for telling them something so disappointing when their expectations were so high, but he continues with confidence. Whether it’s in you or him, you can’t tell.

“I’ve got something else you might like. Someone I know I will.”

Valko looks your way and throws you a reassuring wink, tilting his head for you to stand and come to him. Was it wise to read into his words or was all of this “on the clock”?

The camera’s been angled in a way that only shows your body from the chest down, keeping it safely away from revealing your face. Your body is completely covered in goosebumps, and the jitters are buzzing from your fingertips all the way to your toes.

Turning in his chair, he looks in your direction and caresses you from your ass to the back of your thighs. “Pretty, isn’t she?”

It takes everything to not let your knees give out as he feels on you so tenderly, switching from grabbing the flesh of your ass through your shorts to tracing his fingers dangerously close in between your legs.

“We’ll both do good for you tonight, so make sure you let her know how much you appreciate it.” His hand slips up your tank top from the side, making him grin when you twitch. “I think it’s about time we got started."

“When I’m touching you, you focus on me. They’re paying you to feel good, remember that.”

That’s what you try to keep in mind when Valko’s lips connect to the exposed part of your stomach. It’s what he told you after you reassured him for what felt like the hundredth time that you were not changing your mind. Besides safe words and mutual understandings set, he needed you to feel good. He needed you to have fun and he would put in all the effort necessary to ensure that outcome.

So instead of trying to see what his fans think of you, your body, and unexpected appearance, you fixate upon the warmth of his tongue as he leaves sloppy open-mouth kisses on your tummy and the strong arm he keeps wrapped around you so that you can’t slip away from him. You find your back arching the slightest into his affection the more he gives it and that alone was already surreal because of how natural it felt.

Your fingers cling to the soft strands on his head, running them through his scalp as stimulation for his own satisfaction and as a way to keep you grounded. All you have is the dimmed off-white light coming from his computer monitors and the lamp he has lit to see how he almost loses himself in catering to your torso alone. With you being so reactive to how he nips at your soft spots to make you whine and hiss with pleasure, he could see himself staying there for a very long time.

“Val… p-please” you whisper through a gentle moan when he hums against you in acknowledgment to the sounds you make in response the sensations.

“Don’t be impatient.” It’s ironic for him to taunt you this way when he says that with his sentence muffled since he won’t pull away. “Savoring my treats is what I do.”

He goes for your bottoms next, hooking his thumbs into them and slowly tugging them down whilst seemingly trying to leave an imprint of his lips on your skin.

deepspace4val ~ Donated 300 Chocos - take them off. panties too

The automated voice reading out the note attached to the gift makes Valko laugh and sends vibrations through you.

“Everyone’s just as eager as I am.” He looks into your lust-filled eyes, searching for approval and making a silent promise. Your quick and little nod is what he needs before pulling them down your legs completely and following them to the floor as he removes himself from the chair and falls to his knees.

He has your leg hooked over his shoulder fast, burying his entire face in your pussy as if he’ll die now if he doesn’t inhale you deeply from the source. You have to regain focus quickly and brace your palms to his broad shoulders as he pulls a hearty cry of pleasure from your unexplored depths.

The sounds of him licking and sucking you in such a place, feeling him groan and lap you up as if he’s been stranded in a desert—right here and right now, he owned you.

Donations were coming in waves as you looked out the corner of your eye through hazy vision. Watching your friend taste you like this for thousands to see… you wanted more. The way his jaw moved and how the muscle in it jumped the harder he worked to consume you was intoxicatingly addictive.

“I’m gonna… w-wait. Hold on…!” You try warning him, but your pitched cries and nails digging into his skin is his reason.

Valko sucks your clit into his mouth the more you squirm, focusing all his attention on the swollen bud that pulses against his tongue as his mouth is flooded with your sweetness. He then widens and flattens the muscle along the slit of your puffy cunt, forcing you to nearly hunch over from the dizziness of his overwhelming gluttony.

You can’t utter another word when the tip of his tongue slips into your quivering hole. That and his nose nudging against you is what has the expert holding you by the ass to keep you rooted on his greedy mouth that sucks you dry when your orgasm confiscates all your senses.

You’ve never wailed from such a thing this loud in your life—ever.

“Even better than I expected.” You can’t tell if the glow on his face is from your slick or the fact that he’s thriving off your essence. It’s like he’s almost in disbelief himself. “Fuck, I’m so hard.”

imcumming77 ~ Donated 500 Chocos - fuck her already, i can’t last long

0rgasmsRlife ~ Donated 450 Chocos - i wanna see her tits

“What a coincidence. So do I.” Even breathless and covered in you, he’s still so cheeky.

He presses another kiss to his new favorite place, leaving a trail as he begins to stand. Your shirt rises with him until it’s off completely and a nipple is claimed by him immediately.

“Ah—Hold… Mmph, Valko, that’s s-so…” You’re incoherent now and leaving you speechless has become his guilty pleasure.

His cock brushes up against you and you feel just how much he’s been holding back. Taking his time to tend to you, to relax your mind and body to be ready for both him and this experience, you realize now you could never repay him for something of this magnitude. But, you’d be a liar to say you’d never try.

With newfound boldness, you snake a hand past his elastic waistband and into his pants. As soon as your hand wraps around his cock, you give all the attention to his leaking tip that now creates the same mess in your palm as it’s done all over him.

“Trying to kill me?” he rasps, nose buried in your neck as if your scent will keep him from truly collapsing. “Goddamn, y-you… shit, that's good..”

You look at the screen again and this time he does the same to see what everyone else does. His cum just barely seeps through his pants and the motion of your hand taking care of him underneath sends shivers down his spine.

Your tits glisten with his saliva and having your naked body on display for so many to see yet it only being for him to touch and feel is a reality he can’t quite believe, but he yearns to stay there.

“Not like this.” Although they can’t see your face, it’s clear to everyone when he claims your lips. The taste of yourself flooding your senses and his eagerness to make you savor both it and him, were dizzying. His teeth tugging on them and licking away the dull ache until he pulled away only left you craving more.

Valko takes your hand, bringing you close as he sits in the same chair that he was before everything began. His cock stands tall, thick, and completely flushed in the prettiest pink. He strokes himself a few times while his other hand fondles one of your tits, then flicks a nipple with his thumb while teasing his slit with his other. Only when precum beads and slowly falls down the side of his length does he guide you to stand in between his legs.

“Ready when you are.” Sitting back and waiting for you to make the next move, Valko leaves the ball in your court.

His hands know what to do as you climb into his lap with no hesitation. He looks over your shoulder to see how erotic it truly is and if he were a viewer, he could see himself going bankrupt if it allowed him to witness you spread out with a dick primed and ready to slide into you.

“H-help me,” you plead shakily, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding onto him with an unrelenting embrace. He kisses your shoulder and runs a hand down your back almost lovingly.

“Lift your hips,” he murmurs, placing a kiss below your ear.

The donations were still coming is droves as he grabs his cock and lines it up with your dripping entrance. Valko teases everyone including himself, pushing pass your pussy lips but not fully sinking into your warmth. Rather than continuing to wait impatiently, you work your body to meet him and guide yourself down with an unspoken eagerness.

“That’s it, pup,” he coos, teeth gritting the more your pussy swallows him inside and shapes around his dick to the hilt. “Let them see you take it in good since you can’t wait. Easy… there you go, you’ve got it.”

Your uneven breath fans against his ear and your cunt clenches around him over and over like an unforgiving vice. He takes the lead for you now, his large hands grabbing you by the hips then snaking down to the underside of your thighs.

The first stroke was capable of turning him into a pussy drunk fool. Thousands watch how your juices coat his cock and his cum being dragged down to form a creamy ring at his base.

“More,” you mewl. “Keep—nngh, g-going, Val…”

He couldn’t give a damn about who was watching at that point. In fact, he couldn’t say that he ever did after you graced him with a chance to have you like this.

You’ve always been on his radar yet something he considered untouchable. He respects you, values the things that you say, do, and think. Rejection wasn’t what deterred him from trying but the potential for you to demand any kind of separation, did.

Now that he’s had a taste, good luck trying to act like he’ll never want it again.

Valko grabbed you as securely as he could before he began drilling into you from beneath, his heavy balls slapping against you every time you sunk all the way down. Every viewer was bound to be staring at how you fucked yourself on him and attentively listened to the sounds of both of your ragged breaths and desperate yet filthy panting.

“So damn tight,” he praises, licking the outer shell of your ear and grabbing you harder with promises of marks that you’ll undoubtedly be embarrassed to look at once your high subsides. You were ridiculously soaked for him, and it just wouldn’t stop. Obscene squelches and constantly meeting skin slickened with sweat echoing in his bedroom was enough to prove the heights of your arousal if the visual alone wasn’t enough.

daydreaminlongevity ~ Donated 1000 Chocos - cum in her. don’t waste it

“It’s okay.” Your pussy tightens around him again with anticipation. “I want it… I can take it.”

He brings you in closer as he feels his orgasm coming quicker than he expected it to. His muscles bulge when he envelops you in his embrace, keeping the same breath-stealing momentum as your voice and body shakes uncontrollably from his lack of control.

All it takes is four more deep thrusts before you’re collapsing onto him from exhaustion and feeling the rush of his cum spill into you. You’re held down so that as much as possible stays inside your sensitive cunt, and you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck until the rush washes over.

More people than you could imagine are watching how your thighs shake and your pussy quivers around him. They can see how he raises you just enough to display how his cum overflows and spills out. You both were a mess and all they wanted was more.

*************** ~ Donated 2000 Chocos - again again again

********* ~ Donated 1200 Chocos - eat it out of her

****** ~ Donated 3000 Chocos - can we get a different angle?? i wanna see her better

All the automated messages flowing in has your body on fire more than it already was.

“Seems like I’ve got competition.” Valko’s hand outlines the curves of your body as he lets you rest. “You hear how much they love you, pup?”

You nod. “Again. I wanna go again, too.”

How could he not fulfill such a request? This time though, he planned to show you firsthand for why he was so highly favored.

Could you keep up?

a/n: i was sitting on this for daaays 😭 and i dunno if it’s actually any good.. but i didn’t wanna say anything in case i didn’t finish it lmfaooo BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOYED, MY CUTIES!!!

“You look exhausted,” Valko says to you from where he lounges on the couch. “Another bad day?”

You’ve been disassociating so much the last few weeks that you actually tended to forget that you cohabitated with another person. Rather than being able to sulk in your feelings and waste away from the never-ending disappointment, your roommate wasn’t exactly the kind of man to let you if he had any say.

When you decided to share a space with one of your closest friends, especially one with a personality as out there as his, you figured it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Although it took you a few days to consider his offer, eventually you knew that the benefits were far too great and as time progressed, it proved to be a dynamic going strong for the last three years.

Where you kept to yourself and avoided the unnecessary, he was quick to speak up and make his voice heard. Truly, it was perfect.

You just never anticipated being the one who would be forced to hear it the more your frustrations and grievances became harder to mask.

You kick off your shoes and remove your cardigan in silence, intentionally ignoring him and focusing on whatever commercial that had put a pause to the media he was streaming.

“Am I asking for trouble if I say anything else?” he adds as you plop yourself down on the couch next to him and take a piece of beef jerky from the bag he’s nearly finished with.

“You're so greedy.” He raises a brow and tilts his head with confusion like a lost puppy at your comment.

“You do know that you’re the one eating my snack, don’t you?”

“I thought you didn’t mind sharing with me.”

“I don’t mind. Not at all.” He pauses his wildlife documentary, clearly ready to keep the conversation going and for all of his attention to stay on you. “But you’re the one raiding my stash and calling me names. Then you don’t even say hi. Do I mean nothing to you?”

“You just got this bag this morning and it’s already pretty much gone, dude,” you chuckle. “Greedy, dramatic, and sensitive.”

“You’re pivoting, you know? Not very good at being subtle about it either.”

You didn’t want to talk about it. You really, really didn’t.

You didn’t want to explain what he clearly already knew and didn’t feel like hearing the same reassuring words that weren’t doing anything to ease your constantly racing mind.

Valko leans over and snags the practically empty bag from you and tosses it somewhere out of your reach.

“What the hell is your problem—”

“You’re trying to shut me out again and I’m not letting you do that.”

“Does it kill you to not overstep?”

“That was so damn cheap.”

“How about add nosy to the list while we’re at it.”

“Concerned is more like it,” he corrects. “Why are you pushing yourself so hard when I told you to ease up? You do know that besides being your roommate, I am your friend. And friends don’t let their friends do and experience shit alone. You’re not doing this by yourself and I wish you stopped acting like you are.”

Already, you want to cry. Again.

The tears burn behind your glassy eyes and the uncomfortable tingle in your jaw makes it tick with the urge to let the waterworks flow freely.

Ever since you’ve been trekking through these unexpected hardships, Valko has been covering everything. Rent, groceries, utilities—the whole nine yards. He made you promise to not dip into your savings or to overwork yourself to try compensating for anything he wasn’t expecting of you.

What should’ve been relief had been a nightmare for you ever since.

You’ve always been able to have his back in some way, always have been able to be a dependable counterpart in your two-party pack. But ever since you lost your job, you’ve had to lean on him 100% and never have you ever felt so helpless.

Sure, his job does pay well. Very well, in fact. So much so that necessities and wants for both you and him were expenses he had no qualms about paying.

When he suddenly told you that he planned on seeing what it was like to be a camboy a few years back simply because he had the face and body for it, to say you were stunned was an understatement. At the time, he quite literally said one of his biggest reasons for contemplating such an idea was because he was “bored”. You weren’t one to discourage him if he had the confidence for it either.

Valko’s always been one to try his hand at something if he figured he’d be good at it. Combine that with his carefree-like approach to almost anything he sets his mind to, it shouldn’t be shocking that not only was he right in his assumptions of anticipated success, but he practically became one of the best known in the business what felt like overnight.

Working independently, it wasn’t long before agencies were reaching out and established workers wanted to work with him. Playing his cards right, he chose to remain solo, but when he partnered with the right people and produced the content the fans were begging for, his popularity and finances boosted exceptionally in record time.

To some extent, it’s been a rollercoaster for the both of you. He had to adjust to the recognition and demand while you had to do the same with all the things that could possibly come with the territory of having one of your closest friends be both your living partner and someone who has sex with others on camera.

You felt guilty for your lack of contribution irregardless of the reassurance he gave you and with the sincere look on his face, you were almost certain he could see it.

“We’ve already talked about this, Val.”

“So why does it seem like you still don’t get it?” He sighs, placing his hand on your head and making you turn it to face him instead of the coffee table like you’ve been doing this whole time. “It’s pretty bogus, if you ask me.”

He raises an eyebrow when you sit there silently with such a defiant expression, chuckling at the pouty lips and blank stare.

“Because you don’t get it. You’re not in my position, how could you even?”

“I don’t have to be. I know which one I’m in and I told you what it’s gonna look like until something changes. Nobody’s rushing you around here but you. Funnily enough, you’re the one that doesn’t see that.”

“Oh, you’re sooo inspirational,” you comment sarcastically as you drag out your words. You go to remove his hand from you. Ignoring the truth in his words helps you cope. “Let’s get this one a talk show.”

But he doesn’t let you discard his touch so easily, hand slipping down to the back of your neck to evade your move. He sees the way you tense as much as he can feel it, smiling to himself when your eyes widen and your lips press together.

“Nervous, huh?” Valko’s thumb swipes across your nape gently. “It’s always so easy to mess with you.”

He’s a friend. He’s always been a flirt. Don’t read too much into it.

“You’re so annoying. Get off me.”

“You think just because you’re wallowing in your emotions that I’d let you off easy?”

“Off,” you repeat, trying to shrug him away, but to no avail. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for work anyways? Isn’t that guy coming by? Caleb or whatever?”

Valko raises his arms in amused defeat as he follows your stern order. “He cancelled today. Had something come up. I was gonna tell you later.”

Then that meant… “What about the stream you have to do today?”

“I’m still doing it, just by myself. Probably won’t be as fun for everyone since he can’t make it, but I’m nothing if not resourceful.”

If they were truly present in your head, certainly the both of you would’ve been capable of hearing the gears turning.

You stay with the egregious thought for a minute—a long minute, actually.

Valko, a popular and overly loved camboy with copious amounts of supporters. A job where he makes and earns money in real time. Thousands of fans in one stream surely has to equal the same in revenue, at least somewhat.

You don’t have a job.

You need something to not feel so awful.

It’s quick and relatively harmless.

But this is your friend. This will change the dynamic drastically—forever. Maybe he could handle it, it’s just work to him after all. Another day in the “office”. But could you? Do you want to add more turmoil to your already raging flame?

“Can I...” You stop yourself.

Should you really be asking this? Are you ready for something so extreme and sudden? But the opportunity is sitting in your face and begging to be taken.

“Can you what? Don’t give up, I believe in you,” he jests, leaning into you slowly and close to nudging you with his shoulder.

You push him away immediately and ignore his exaggerated look of betrayal. “Could you be serious?”

“If you could finish your sentence, I can think about trying.”

Rolling your eyes and huffing out a shaky breath that he hears too clearly, you muster up the courage. Or whatever this kind of audacity is.

“What if… what if I take his… place?”

The room falls silent. Too silent. For a second, you think you might’ve actually stopped his heart.

“… What the fuck.”

Not what you were hoping to hear, but it’s a fair reaction nonetheless.

“We don’t have to show my face,” you urge. “I don’t want to show it at all, actually. Just hear me—”

“Are you insane? Absolutely not.”

He doesn’t get to shut you down like this. Maybe it’s the adrenaline coming from what you’re genuinely considering or the desire to make some kind of progress in something that’s been so dormant, but if he would just work with you.

“I’ve been feeling like shit for months, Valko!” He freezes at your voice raised so suddenly, gaze flickering between your clenched fists and avoidant eyes. “Maybe it’s just desperation. Maybe this is so irresponsible of me and… and m-maybe I’ll regret it in the future. But I can’t keep sitting here and failing, okay?”

“How many times do I have to tell you—”

Your head shakes immediately to swat away what’s supposed to be uplifting if you’d let him finish.

“I trust you. I trust you get where I’m coming from and why I’m trying to do this.” You move closer to him, trying not to let it sting when he watches you warily like you’re not in your right mind. “If you don’t want to do it with me, I rather you just say that. But… but I can do it. If you let me, Val, I can show you. Please.”

He tries to ignore the way his dick twitches from the softness that claims your tone. His sweatpants feel like they've suddenly shrunk three sizes and are suffocating him. But the way you cling to him, how you beg…

“I don’t want to take advantage of you being in such a vulnerable place, pup. That’s not my style.”

“You aren’t if I’m asking for it. I want… I want to feel like I’m doing something—that I’m helping and that I believe it in my own terms.”

His features soften. He’s always given you everything you wanted. How could he deny you when you come to him like this? Even with his concerns, he can’t ignore the temptation.

“… Nothing’s gonna change about us? You won’t run when it’s done?”

Your head moves side to side, decision firm and resolute. “I promise not to.”

It’s been hours since you had that conversation and only now were your nerves trying to get the best of you when the act itself was this close to happening.

Seeing Valko live and in his element was different from watching behind a screen in secret. Of course you watched him from time to time, it wasn’t abnormal to be curious. How could one not be?

Were you proud to say that you’ve seen your friend’s cock? Or that you’ve seen what he looks like when his strong thighs are covered in his cum? Or how he sounds when he edges himself for over an hour? No, not really. But you’d be lying if you said you regretted seeing or enjoying it.

The minute he started, having you sit beside him and out of view until it came time to do what the both of you were there for, his stream was flooded with donations, comments, and viewers, instantly.

It almost made you nauseous, seeing the number of watchers jump from 0 to 20, 500, then surpassing the thousands faster than you could blink. He gave them that flirtatious banter and cocky energy effortlessly, teasing a few supporters and playfully reprimanding others for their smutty dialogue.

This was easy for him, at least it had become so with time, and it forced you to observe with admiration.

He didn’t even have to do anything different outside of who he is naturally, simply sitting at his desk and staying dressed in the same comfortable attire you found him in after coming home.

There was something about Valko that you could never put your finger on, and that amplified as you paid close attention to the way he interacts with the people who love him and his body.

valsbabydoll: isn’t caleb supposed to be here today??

locawerewolf: can we get to itttt

valkosprincess: he’s so sexy, i’m dripping

“Don’t be mad at me,” he smirks, eyeing the way they urge him to reveal what he’s been holding onto. “But Caleb couldn’t make it tonight.”

You can already sense the kind of reaction he’ll get for telling them something so disappointing when their expectations were so high, but he continues with confidence. Whether it’s in you or him, you can’t tell.

“I’ve got something else you might like. Someone I know I will.”

Valko looks your way and throws you a reassuring wink, tilting his head for you to stand and come to him. Was it wise to read into his words or was all of this “on the clock”?

The camera’s been angled in a way that only shows your body from the chest down, keeping it safely away from revealing your face. Your body is completely covered in goosebumps, and the jitters are buzzing from your fingertips all the way to your toes.

Turning in his chair, he looks in your direction and caresses you from your ass to the back of your thighs. “Pretty, isn’t she?”

It takes everything to not let your knees give out as he feels on you so tenderly, switching from grabbing the flesh of your ass through your shorts to tracing his fingers dangerously close in between your legs.

“We’ll both do good for you tonight, so make sure you let her know how much you appreciate it.” His hand slips up your tank top from the side, making him grin when you twitch. “I think it’s about time we got started."

“When I’m touching you, you focus on me. They’re paying you to feel good, remember that.”

That’s what you try to keep in mind when Valko’s lips connect to the exposed part of your stomach. It’s what he told you after you reassured him for what felt like the hundredth time that you were not changing your mind. Besides safe words and mutual understandings set, he needed you to feel good. He needed you to have fun and he would put in all the effort necessary to ensure that outcome.

So instead of trying to see what his fans think of you, your body, and unexpected appearance, you fixate upon the warmth of his tongue as he leaves sloppy open-mouth kisses on your tummy and the strong arm he keeps wrapped around you so that you can’t slip away from him. You find your back arching the slightest into his affection the more he gives it and that alone was already surreal because of how natural it felt.

Your fingers cling to the soft strands on his head, running them through his scalp as stimulation for his own satisfaction and as a way to keep you grounded. All you have is the dimmed off-white light coming from his computer monitors and the lamp he has lit to see how he almost loses himself in catering to your torso alone. With you being so reactive to how he nips at your soft spots to make you whine and hiss with pleasure, he could see himself staying there for a very long time.

“Val… p-please” you whisper through a gentle moan when he hums against you in acknowledgment to the sounds you make in response the sensations.

“Don’t be impatient.” It’s ironic for him to taunt you this way when he says that with his sentence muffled since he won’t pull away. “Savoring my treats is what I do.”

He goes for your bottoms next, hooking his thumbs into them and slowly tugging them down whilst seemingly trying to leave an imprint of his lips on your skin.

deepspace4val ~ Donated 300 Chocos - take them off. panties too

The automated voice reading out the note attached to the gift makes Valko laugh and sends vibrations through you.

“Everyone’s just as eager as I am.” He looks into your lust-filled eyes, searching for approval and making a silent promise. Your quick and little nod is what he needs before pulling them down your legs completely and following them to the floor as he removes himself from the chair and falls to his knees.

He has your leg hooked over his shoulder fast, burying his entire face in your pussy as if he’ll die now if he doesn’t inhale you deeply from the source. You have to regain focus quickly and brace your palms to his broad shoulders as he pulls a hearty cry of pleasure from your unexplored depths.

The sounds of him licking and sucking you in such a place, feeling him groan and lap you up as if he’s been stranded in a desert—right here and right now, he owned you.

Donations were coming in waves as you looked out the corner of your eye through hazy vision. Watching your friend taste you like this for thousands to see… you wanted more. The way his jaw moved and how the muscle in it jumped the harder he worked to consume you was intoxicatingly addictive.

“I’m gonna… w-wait. Hold on…!” You try warning him, but your pitched cries and nails digging into his skin is his reason.

Valko sucks your clit into his mouth the more you squirm, focusing all his attention on the swollen bud that pulses against his tongue as his mouth is flooded with your sweetness. He then widens and flattens the muscle along the slit of your puffy cunt, forcing you to nearly hunch over from the dizziness of his overwhelming gluttony.

You can’t utter another word when the tip of his tongue slips into your quivering hole. That and his nose nudging against you is what has the expert holding you by the ass to keep you rooted on his greedy mouth that sucks you dry when your orgasm confiscates all your senses.

You’ve never wailed from such a thing this loud in your life—ever.

“Even better than I expected.” You can’t tell if the glow on his face is from your slick or the fact that he’s thriving off your essence. It’s like he’s almost in disbelief himself. “Fuck, I’m so hard.”

imcumming77 ~ Donated 500 Chocos - fuck her already, i can’t last long

0rgasmsRlife ~ Donated 450 Chocos - i wanna see her tits

“What a coincidence. So do I.” Even breathless and covered in you, he’s still so cheeky.

He presses another kiss to his new favorite place, leaving a trail as he begins to stand. Your shirt rises with him until it’s off completely and a nipple is claimed by him immediately.

“Ah—Hold… Mmph, Valko, that’s s-so…” You’re incoherent now and leaving you speechless has become his guilty pleasure.

His cock brushes up against you and you feel just how much he’s been holding back. Taking his time to tend to you, to relax your mind and body to be ready for both him and this experience, you realize now you could never repay him for something of this magnitude. But, you’d be a liar to say you’d never try.

With newfound boldness, you snake a hand past his elastic waistband and into his pants. As soon as your hand wraps around his cock, you give all the attention to his leaking tip that now creates the same mess in your palm as it’s done all over him.

“Trying to kill me?” he rasps, nose buried in your neck as if your scent will keep him from truly collapsing. “Goddamn, y-you… shit, that's good..”

You look at the screen again and this time he does the same to see what everyone else does. His cum just barely seeps through his pants and the motion of your hand taking care of him underneath sends shivers down his spine.

Your tits glisten with his saliva and having your naked body on display for so many to see yet it only being for him to touch and feel is a reality he can’t quite believe, but he yearns to stay there.

“Not like this.” Although they can’t see your face, it’s clear to everyone when he claims your lips. The taste of yourself flooding your senses and his eagerness to make you savor both it and him, were dizzying. His teeth tugging on them and licking away the dull ache until he pulled away only left you craving more.

Valko takes your hand, bringing you close as he sits in the same chair that he was before everything began. His cock stands tall, thick, and completely flushed in the prettiest pink. He strokes himself a few times while his other hand fondles one of your tits, then flicks a nipple with his thumb while teasing his slit with his other. Only when precum beads and slowly falls down the side of his length does he guide you to stand in between his legs.

“Ready when you are.” Sitting back and waiting for you to make the next move, Valko leaves the ball in your court.

His hands know what to do as you climb into his lap with no hesitation. He looks over your shoulder to see how erotic it truly is and if he were a viewer, he could see himself going bankrupt if it allowed him to witness you spread out with a dick primed and ready to slide into you.

“H-help me,” you plead shakily, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding onto him with an unrelenting embrace. He kisses your shoulder and runs a hand down your back almost lovingly.

“Lift your hips,” he murmurs, placing a kiss below your ear.

The donations were still coming is droves as he grabs his cock and lines it up with your dripping entrance. Valko teases everyone including himself, pushing pass your pussy lips but not fully sinking into your warmth. Rather than continuing to wait impatiently, you work your body to meet him and guide yourself down with an unspoken eagerness.

“That’s it, pup,” he coos, teeth gritting the more your pussy swallows him inside and shapes around his dick to the hilt. “Let them see you take it in good since you can’t wait. Easy… there you go, you’ve got it.”

Your uneven breath fans against his ear and your cunt clenches around him over and over like an unforgiving vice. He takes the lead for you now, his large hands grabbing you by the hips then snaking down to the underside of your thighs.

The first stroke was capable of turning him into a pussy drunk fool. Thousands watch how your juices coat his cock and his cum being dragged down to form a creamy ring at his base.

“More,” you mewl. “Keep—nngh, g-going, Val…”

He couldn’t give a damn about who was watching at that point. In fact, he couldn’t say that he ever did after you graced him with a chance to have you like this.

You’ve always been on his radar yet something he considered untouchable. He respects you, values the things that you say, do, and think. Rejection wasn’t what deterred him from trying but the potential for you to demand any kind of separation, did.

Now that he’s had a taste, good luck trying to act like he’ll never want it again.

Valko grabbed you as securely as he could before he began drilling into you from beneath, his heavy balls slapping against you every time you sunk all the way down. Every viewer was bound to be staring at how you fucked yourself on him and attentively listened to the sounds of both of your ragged breaths and desperate yet filthy panting.

“So damn tight,” he praises, licking the outer shell of your ear and grabbing you harder with promises of marks that you’ll undoubtedly be embarrassed to look at once your high subsides. You were ridiculously soaked for him, and it just wouldn’t stop. Obscene squelches and constantly meeting skin slickened with sweat echoing in his bedroom was enough to prove the heights of your arousal if the visual alone wasn’t enough.

daydreaminlongevity ~ Donated 1000 Chocos - cum in her. don’t waste it

“It’s okay.” Your pussy tightens around him again with anticipation. “I want it… I can take it.”

He brings you in closer as he feels his orgasm coming quicker than he expected it to. His muscles bulge when he envelops you in his embrace, keeping the same breath-stealing momentum as your voice and body shakes uncontrollably from his lack of control.

All it takes is four more deep thrusts before you’re collapsing onto him from exhaustion and feeling the rush of his cum spill into you. You’re held down so that as much as possible stays inside your sensitive cunt, and you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck until the rush washes over.

More people than you could imagine are watching how your thighs shake and your pussy quivers around him. They can see how he raises you just enough to display how his cum overflows and spills out. You both were a mess and all they wanted was more.

*************** ~ Donated 2000 Chocos - again again again

********* ~ Donated 1200 Chocos - eat it out of her

****** ~ Donated 3000 Chocos - can we get a different angle?? i wanna see her better

All the automated messages flowing in has your body on fire more than it already was.

“Seems like I’ve got competition.” Valko’s hand outlines the curves of your body as he lets you rest. “You hear how much they love you, pup?”

You nod. “Again. I wanna go again, too.”

How could he not fulfill such a request? This time though, he planned to show you firsthand for why he was so highly favored.

Could you keep up?

a/n: i was sitting on this for daaays 😭 and i dunno if it’s actually any good.. but i didn’t wanna say anything in case i didn’t finish it lmfaooo BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOYED, MY CUTIES!!!

"Sylus...!"

Your neatly folded clothes had been so carelessly discarded, thrown about the bed and floor as if they hadn't been there at all. You were nearly drooling into one of your own cardigans, gripping at the sheets and your sleep shorts for some sort of grounding.

"S-Sylus!" Again, panting his name as he rocked into you. Though, rocking might be too gentle of a term. Every connection had the rigid edges of his prominent hips digging into the plush of your ass, making the skin ripple. The obscene slap echoing the bedroom only added to the dizzying heat building in the depths of your cunt.

"Keep sayin my name, kitten." He was utterly entranced, eye glowing a bright crimson as he stared down to where his cock entered and retracted from your fluttering, leaking cunt. A thick, creamy ring of your mixing arousal building at his base, creating glossy webs over the neatly trimmed hair of his groin.

It made his throat tight, a wave of pure, unadulterated hunger overcoming him. "Sy!" It's a pretty shriek of his name as he nearly collapses on top of you, one knee coming up to brace on the bed as he keeps his other foot planted firmly on the ground.

"Tell me how much you want this." A slurred promise, the addition of his body weight crushing you into the mattress only made your velvety walls clamp down around him harder. "I want this so bad, Sy. D-don't stop, you're making me feel so good...!" His new angle has his hips moving harder, faster, the pleasure making your head spin.

"Cum for me, my pretty girl. Cum all over my cock, I need to feel it." He felt feral. His hands coming up to brace themselves on the mattress by trapping your trembling ones against it. Squeezing your warm skin as a way of encouragement when he felt your cunt spasming around him.

"Please, please... cum for me, baby. Cum, I need you to cum..." he could practically taste your desire to please him. You manage to lift your head up, saliva connecting you to your once clean cardigan. "Kiss me."

A command so simple, and yet Sylus is struggling to resist the throbbing release that nearly got out of him without his permission. Absolutely throbbing between your walls, Sylus is unable to stop his hips. Head falling forward to capture your mouth in a slopping pass of teeth and tongue, spit dribbling down your chins.

You cum then, crying into his mouth and trembling all the same. Hips jerking as if you could ever escape his grasp, with or without his additional body weight for security.

Sylus doesn't take long to follow, not when he nearly lost his cool seconds prior over the simple request for a kiss. You swallow each other's gasps, every little noise that accompanies your orgasms are consumed by the other's mouth. Only separating when you swear black spots are threatening to overcome your vision.

"I love you." "I love you too, kitten."

and god it had been like this since you'd married him months ago, this constant, humming between your thighs the arousal that woke you up, before the sun outside did, and every time you woke up, your skin prickled with the heat of being stuffed like a fucking turkey before your eyes even opened.

and now you didn't bother fighting it anymore. why would you? like c'mon, other women would die to be in your haven, in your place, and hell be damned if you took what you had lightly.

so moving on, as your chest heaved with heavy breaths you found Leon still half-buried in sleep, his legs spread wide like inviting you to take his cock in your cunt, and christ lo and behold, you wanted to, way too desperately and a whiney little moan slipped past your lips as you predatorily gawked at him, then slolwly your eyes drifted down and you saw how he was already excited, his morning wood hard and thick, which tented the blanket above you and him, and the sight before you, sent a fresh throb through your cunt, and with sudden desperate need, you groaned loudly, then hastily your removed the blanket above you, before discarding it mindlessly on the floor, and as soon as you do Leon stirs a little, but, thank to god he doesn't wake up entirely, and you close your eyes for a second before opening them again, then you sigh in utter relief.

after that for a moment, you simply stared at his heavy cock, ready and flushed, his thick head swollen, and it seemed ready to explode the load in you, and his member remained stood between his thighs, twitching slightly with lazy heartbeats, and god it was so obscene, but it was yours, he was yours, suddenly your gaze drifted towards his thigh, and the muscle there flexed and twitched with his every breath, and fuck, even in rest his everything was so responsive, and just then as you were drooling at the sight, you had an idea, not a good one, but actually a filthy one.

it was to ride his thigh instead of his cock.

then, quickly, with a sly smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth, you climbed over and hovered above him before straddling his bare thigh, and you spread your legs over his hardened muscle before positioning yourself directly above it, and finally, as soon as you sat down on his thigh, your wet, swollen folds settled against him and a low, raspy moan escaped past your lips.

yes—you were going to use his thigh to get yourself off, because why the hell not? after all every muscle in his body was yours now, and he'd told you once, earnestly in the dark, to take whatever you need from him whether he was awake or asleep, so here you were, doing exactly as you pleased, using him as you liked because it was what he wanted you to do.

so you finally started moving, and warmth began to spread across your chest as your swollen naked cunt started to spread and grind down against the hard muscle of his leg with desperate, rolling pressure.

and you groaned his name, your jaw slacking open then you threw your head back, pressing your palms flat against his chest for leverage. then you rolled your hips over him, your tits bouncing with every motion of your body, and the friction of your wetness over his skin, dragged your throbbing clit against his skin in a wet, filthy sound that sent electric sparks racing up your spine, making your breath hitch in ragged, desperate gasps. "oh baby, ah, your thigh is s' good," you whimpered.

then your hips started rolling faster, desperately rubbing your wetness and folds against him, chasing that sharp, building edge of pleasure while your slickness smeared obscenely over his skin, marking him with your desire.

Leon stirred awake a few minutes later, dragged from his sleep by the heat of you, and when his eyes finally fluttered open still half-lidded and blinking dazedly at you — his gaze dropped immediately to where you were spread open and grinding against him.

and his droopy eyes snapped wide as he realized what was happening, and he took you in: your flushed body riding his thigh with desperateness and his expression darkened with hungry appreciation, and he smirked "Fuck, hi, baby. ah, shit, I just woke up and you—ungh—are using me like your toy," he rumbled, his morning voice rough and gravelly, arousing you even more.

then he smiled again, shifting beneath you, his legs spreading even wider to make more room for you to work.

"you are ah my favourite toy, but fuck I hope you don't mind if I--" you could not complete your sentence, because you hit that perfect angle that made you see stars, and your clit rubbed against his throbbing vein of his thigh that made you whimper in pleasure.

and he just groaned your name in a low guttural moan, and you watched him in awe as he wrapped his hand around his cock, his tip flushed and his pre-cum started to leak down steadily down his tip as he stroked himself in one long, filthy pull, grunting incoherent words.

and you turned your attention back to yourself grinding your ass against his leg, then suddenly his other hand pressed firmly against your hip giving it a soft squeeze, then he snaked it around in front of your body, and his thumb sinked down to rub torturous circles on your clit, teasing and rough.

"borrow your thigh," you finally finished, smiling down at him while, rolling your hips harder around him.

"not at all, darling," he grunted, and he kept stroking himself while his other hand fingers rubbed torturous stroked on your engorged nub. "It's all yours anyway, my every inch, my cock, my thigh, so use me however you need."

you grinned, and took him at his word, and rode his leg with desperateness, your slickness smearing filthy and wet over his skin.

and he watched you through hooded eyes, his fist working his length in tight, desperate pulls, matching the rhythm of your rolling hips. "fuck, look at you," he gritted out, his abs tightening as he thrust his hip up into his own grip. "your cunt soaked my leg already and you just started, that desperate for me, sweetheart?"

"Yes," you gasped, chasing your edge with needy rolls of your ass, "Yes, fu--fuck"

"take it then," he commanded, his hand movements on your clit fastening, and you feel your walls spasm, around his thigh, so you grind yourself even harder feeling your clit twitch as it rubs against his thighs, and he smirks, "take what you need then, i am ah, right here."

and you do take him as he wished, and the orgasm builts fast and fierce in your cunt, coiling tight in your belly, your clit throbs with every drag against his muscle, and walls starts to pulse like a butterfly around his thigh, and you feel yourself at the edge and you tremble your thighs shaking around his muscles, "leon--fu-fuck-i--"

"Gonna cum?" he completes for you, closing his eyes, as he jerks himself faster.

"Ungh, ye..yeah", you say, your eyes fluttering shut as pleasure threatens to explode your senses.

"Let me feel, that , shit, let me feel your cunt flutter baby."

finally your orgasm hits your cunt like a freight train and your back arches like a bow, and a sharp cry tears from your throat as your cunt flutters and spasmed violently against his thigh.

your inner walls clamped down on him, pulsing in rhythmic, waves that had you shaking above him, your vision whiting out at the edges, finally feeling something else building in your stomach, you thought you were going to pee.

"Leon, something else—" You didn't get to finish as Leon pressed your clit and you screamed loudly. "thats it fucking mark my thigh, with whatever it is" and you do, you gush out, your slick running hot down his thigh, your clit throbbing in time with your racing heartbeat as pleasure crashed through your veins like electricity, leaving you trembling and your thighs convulsing around him.

and as you shook above him gasping and panting slowly rolling your hips to drown out every drop of your orgasm, he follows your pace, fisting his cock faster, then groaning long and low as he spent across his own heaving stomach.

as you ride out your pleasure his own orgasm struck him too and with a guttural groan he sings your name and jerks his cock fast in his fist, and finally his tip, shoots thick ropes of white heat across his own chest, striping his heaving stomach, one spurt landing hot and wet on your hip, your thigh, marking you both in the mess of his release, and finally as he emptied the last of his load he still kept stroking himself, milking the last drop until his hand was coated in his semen and his breath came in shuddering gasps, and he throws his head back utterly undone and spent.

then you sigh and rub your palm against the splatter on his chest, smearing it into your fingers and finally you guide them towards your mouth, dragging your tongue out to suck them clean, while Leon looked at you completely pussy-drunk.

"ugh, good morning, wifey," he breathed his voice dripped in his pleasure as he looked at you as if he was in heaven instead of beneath you, then finally with a sly grin and without giving you a chance to respond, he wrapped his hands around your waist and he pulls you down on top of him, then slowly he kisses your lips, making you gasp which soon get devoured by his own mouth, and you giggle his name in his mouth, and croon softly, "mhm, best morning ever," you finally agreed, smiling against his mouth.

It's a hot day outside so Sylus and you decide to stay inside, the two of you relaxing with books on the couch. His hand caresses your legs that are draped over his thighs, occasionally moving away to turn the page of his book. It's quiet and peaceful, he seems focused on his book unlike you. You look away from your book to glance at Sylus then quickly back at your book, just as you have been doing for the past two hours.

Suddenly, you hear him chuckle and close his book, setting it aside. You glance up, eyes widening when you see him stare directly at you.

"If you have something to say, just say it"

"Me?" you hide behind your book. "I don't know what you're talking about"

His finger pushes down on your book revealing his amused smile.

"Someone has been acting strange these past few days" he plucks the book from you and sets it aside.

Realizing you've been caught you plan your escape, you start to turn to run away but he's two steps ahead. He grabs your legs pulling you back to him, you try to squirm away but he keeps you in place.

"You're not going to tell me?"

"Nope, there's nothing to talk about" you shake your head quickly.

"No? are you sure?"

"Mhm" you nod innocently.

"I see so the handcuffs I found are nothing then"

"Handcuffs?" you tap your chin. "Never heard of em"

He stares at you for a moment before laughing loudly.

"Ah, I see how it is, however... I have ways to make someone confess"

Before you have a chance to respond one of his hands move to the bottom of your feet to tickle them making you squeal and jerk. You can't help but giggle and try to push him away but his attack is strong.

"Well? have anything to share?"

"N-no" you laugh and squirm on the couch.

...

"Okay I do! but no more!" you laugh breathlessly, "I'll confess! just no more tickles"

He stops and let's you catch your breath, his smile widening at your pout.

"Cheater"

"It's not cheating, it's called knowing your opponents weak spots" he responds.

"Whatever dude" you huff and sit up, crossing your legs. "Fine since you want to know so badly i'll tell you"

He nods, placing his full attention on you.

"So I happened to come across the handcuffs while exploring somewhere. Apparently they are supposed to suppress your evol, but it's defected so they just tossed it"

He hums. "You stole them from your job? I'm impressed"

"I didn't steal!" you huff. "It was trash you can't steal trash"

"So you asked if you could keep it?"

You look away but his body slithers to yours.

"You took what you wanted, I bet it felt good didn't it?" his warm voice reaches your ear and you flinch away.

"Anyways point is is that I would like to try them out"

"That's it?" he tilts his head. "We've done far more adventurous things before"

"It's different" your fingers unconsciously dig into your palms. "You might not like it"

"Or I might do" his hands reaches for yours, gently prying them open "We won't know until we try"

Your face flushes, hesitating for a moment before you nod. "Okay"

"I can't believe you actually agreed to this" you say as you watch him strip.

"Why wouldn't I?" he drapes his clothes over a table then walks over to you.

You politely look away, instead focusing on the chair in front of you. You adjust the straps to his size and tug at them, you hope they're strong enough to keep him down.

"I don't know, I guess I was just surprised by how quickly you agreed" you tug at the straps one last time before standing up straight. You instantly feel his arms wrap around you and relax into them.

"You promised me a 'good time,' how could I not?"

He turns you around and places a piece of chocolate onto your fingers. You look at the chocolate for a moment then at his lips, you reach up to rub the chocolate over them before sliding it into his mouth. His hand reaches for yours keeping it in place as he sucks and licks the traces on your fingers.

With a satisfied hum he pulls back letting the chocolate melt in his mouth.

"Good?"

"Very, want a taste?" he starts to lean down but you quickly stop him.

"One of us has to be sound of mind this time"

"Oh? are you planning on being rough with me?" his eyes glimmer with excitement.

"Maybe" you bite down a giddy smile and guide him to the chair. You crouch to wrap the straps over his legs, while you do you sneak a glance at his hardening length.

When you're done you stand up and walk behind him. His hands are already behind his back waiting for you to restrain them. You click the cuffs into place then turn the switch on, keeping an eye on it and him before you continue.

"How does it feel?"

"Like normal cu- ngh" he let's out a sound between a groan and a moan, his body tensing.

"Sylus?!" you lean over to look at him but he shakes his head.

"It's fine" he breathes out.

Seeing him calm, your nerves are soothed.

"Just like normal cuffs right?" you can't help but tease.

His lips twitch into a smile. "Would you like to try them?"

"No thanks" you check the cuffs one last time before walking back in front of him. "So...?"

"They're different, I've worn evol suppressors before but this one-" his brows furrow momentarily. "-feels good?"

You match his confusion. "Could it be the chocolate?"

"No, this is deeper, a sort of pleasure that isn't usually possible to feel"

"I... see?" you lean forward to look at him, you can see his skin starting to get humid, eyes staring wildly at you. You slowly drag your pointer finger from his navel up to his neck, his breath ragged as you caress his skin.

"So sensitive" you note, dragging your finger up to his chin to lift it. His heavy gaze remains on you. "Interesting"

"Color?"

"Green"

You hum and stand straight, his eyes follow your movements then trace over your body.

"Will that be staying on?" his gaze stays fixated on his shirt you stole borrowed.

"Mhm, it's comfortable, feel it" you stretch out the fabric to him then grin. "Oh right you can't"

He chuckles, his eyes sparkling brighter now. "Someone's having fun"

"Don't worry we both will" you rest your hands on his shoulders then slide down to his lap, your chest firmly pressed against his.

"Do you feel it now?" you wrap your arms around his neck.

"A little"

You slide up and down his chest slowly, each time your nose brushes his until you tilt your head to hover your lips over his.

"What about now?" you whisper.

"You're right, it is nice" for a moment his lips chase yours, then he holds himself back. "But I believe what's underneath is much softer"

You sit back down on his lap and reach for the hem of his shirt that has already raised up to your waist. You easily pull it off, leaving you in your undergarments. You resume your movements, enjoying the way his body reacts.

"This is smaller, can you actually feel it?"

"Mhm" his half lidded eyes look down to your chest.

You follow his gaze then an idea pops into your mind. You raise yourself higher and savor his confused expression before one of your hands reaches behind him to push his face between your chest.

"You can feel it more like this right?"

He responds by kissing the skin that peeks out. You guide his face all over, letting him get a proper feel. Each kiss gets wetter, accompanied by small groans, his eyes closed focused solely on kissing you. The soft cloth glides over his skin, never letting him stay in one area for too long.

He finds himself desperate, his teeth nipping at the cloth that's in the way until he finds his prize. Through the cloth he finds your perked bud, his teeth quickly attaching themselves to the cloth around it, his tongue pokes out to instinctively lick and you can hear his pleased groan when the cloth dampens enough to contour around it.

You suddenly move away, watching how his eyes instantly open, his arms harshly pull at the restraints as he attempts to reach you then tense when he remembers. His body slumps on the chair, his breathing harder now, a vivid blush spread from his ears to his cheeks.

You look at your bra and let out an exaggerated sigh. "Oh no, my bra is ruined, I'll have to take it off now," you bite down a giggle as you do.

You drape your bra over his shoulder then rest on his chest, your arms sneaky up around him again.

"Color?"

"Green" he pants.

You start to rub against him again, this time your buds occasionally rubbing against his which makes you both gasp. Your lips hover over his, your warm breaths mingling. You can see how he twitches, aching to touch and kiss you, it sends a wave of arousal through you making your own mind hazy.

Hunger takes over and you kiss him, his lips eagerly opening to taste you. You can hear the restraints rattling as he fights against them.

"More" he moans into you.

You blindly reach down to his length, which is surprisingly very slick already, and guide it between your clothed folds. You keep your movements slow and firm, each noise he makes making your own juices leak into your panties.

The two of you continue to kiss, your bodies rolling into each other chasing that electric pleasure that strikes with each grind. Each drag makes his tip hit your clit, the friction leaving you trembling on his lap.

He suddenly pulls away, his head resting against yours as he let's out a grunt, ropes of cum shoot out from his tip coating your panties and his belly. Despite his release his hips keep bucking into you, faster now, the force of it makes you lightly bounce on his lap until you stand.

"No" he whimpers.

You look down at him mouth gape. His hips continue to reach to you, body fighting against the restraints, there's a sort of desperation you've never seen on him before. A part of you wants to see more but another is worried that something may be wrong, after all the cuffs were deemed defected.

You gently cup his face, "Sylus, are you okay?"

He pants for a couple seconds then responds lowly, "yes"

"Are you sure? we can take a break-"

"My color is green, very green" his voice is deeper, carrying a firmness that makes you freeze. "Stop hesitating and take what you want"

"You have my permission" he adds softly.

You nod slowly, your hands taking a firmer grip on him. You lean down and press a chaste kiss on his lips then move back to look at him.

"I love you, but I'm going to be mean now"

He chuckles, "I'm all yours sweetie, ruin me"

You feel a surge of confidence and comfort, your body relaxes and your mind shifts. You push your negative thoughts away and focus instead on the handsome man before you.

You step away from him and go to the nearby table that exhibits various toys for you to use. It's hard to choose but you settle with a cock ring and a vibrator for now. You walk back to him, his eyes already curiously looking at what you brought back. He doesn't say anything when you slide down the ring, but you hear how his breath hitches once it settles at the bottom.

Next you turn on the vibrator on a low setting, pressing it against the ring. His body twitches and he moans, now that you're closer you can see how his pre cum overflows from his tip, joining the puddle at his base.

You press the vibrator against different spots, noting which ones are the most sensitive. You drink in all the delicious sounds and expressions he makes, something about him getting lost in pleasure makes hot arousal pool between your legs. You wonder what sort of reactions you could get out of him if you teased him more.

After a bit you step away again, this time you choose a leather crop. As soon as he sees it he grins, glazed eyes looking at it then you.

"Is this revenge for yesterday?"

"Nope" you lie and tap it against his chest lightly. "I'm just curious"

"Aren't you always?" he leans back more to present his chest.

You smack one of his nipples with a playful frown.

"Don't provoke me"

"I wouldn't dare, kitten" he smirks. "Though your punishment is lenient, maybe you just don't have it in you"

You land a swift blow on his left thigh, close to his most sensitive area and he grunts. You land a couple more, leaving red marks on both thighs until the last one lands on the under side of his tip.

"Better?"

He inhales and exhales shakily, his cute stupid smirk still in place.

"Much"

Satisfied you pick up the vibrator again and set it up against the base of his cock on a high setting. His legs tense and you use that distraction to strike the inside of his thigh making him moan loudly.

You watch his smirk fall, his mouth gaping and gasping for air, the intense vibrations surround the ring around his length amplifying the feeling. With your other hand you drag the crop up and down his chest, touch as light as a feather which makes his body twitch with anticipation. When you reach his nipple you drag the pointed edge around it before lightly rubbing it, you repeat the same on each side then drag it back down.

His chest raises rapidly, streaks of sweat gliding down his muscles. You see his body tense and the signs of coming climax, you time it out right and suddenly move the vibrator away, replacing it with a swift strike. The crop slaps loudly against his skin and at the same time he whimpers, which only adds to your arousal.

Just as quick as you took it away you brought the vibrator back to his cock, this time resting it on his tip, drawing circles around it. His eyes clench shut tightly and you can see the last bits of his brattiness slip.

Content you press your lips against his, this time his mouth is slack, letting your tongue explore him with ease. It's wet and messy, the desire to consume him drives you with a force that you're unused to, it makes you wonder if this is how he feels when he pleasures you.

When you feel him get close to the edge again, you cover his opening with the vibrator. With the tight ring around him and the vibrator his release is once again denied. You feel his hips try to squirm away so you pull back to slap the crop on his thigh.

"Stay still"

His muscles tense as he forces his body to obey, but you can see his restraint wavering, so you decide to give him a break. You lower the vibrator's setting to a light buzz and let it sit on his lap, next to it you momentarily set the crop down as well.

"Tired already?" he weakly teases.

"No, just need to clean up" you say as you slide down your panties, you can feel him follow your movements but you remain nonchalant under his intense gaze.

With your panties off you bring them up to your folds, you slowly rub it between them until you feel somewhat dry, then you move it close to his face.

"Wanna help?"

He doesn't verbally respond, with his eyes looking into yours, his tongue darts out giving the cloth a long lick. Strings of arousal connect to his mouth, dripping down with his drool. You feel his warm breath through the cloth, it's accompanied by sweet hums that make you blush from how much he savors your taste.

Embarrassed you stuff the cloth into his mouth using it as a makeshift gag.

You pick up the vibrator and crop, you're not sure of what you want to do next however you now know what your goal is, to make your precious boyfriend cry. Why? because it's hot.

His eyes trail over your nude form appreciatively, unaware of what awaits him. You raise the vibrators level but instead of placing it on him you lower it to your clit, the sudden vibration makes you shudder and close your eyes. It feels so good you almost forget the purpose of this.

You open your eyes to glance at Sylus, his bright eyes look back at you with a mixture of amusement and need. You can tell he wants to say something but luckily your panties keep his mouth shut.

You rub against the vibrator, letting your wetness coat it. Once it's slippery enough you reluctantly move it away to press it against one of his nipples, your juices acting as a lubricant to glide the vibrator over his skin. His perked nubs bend and flatten under the intense pressure, sensitivity increasing with each passing moment.

His body tenses, hips bucking by pure instinct, his cock twitches and drips fighting against the tight ring that forbids him his release. His head hangs low eyes half lided and glossy, jaw tight around the gag. You press soft kisses on his head, contrasting the way your hand tortures his vulnerable body.

"Y'know...you look really good like this" you let the vibrator rest on his lap so you can lift his chin. "I would love to see more, to see what it looks like when you let yourself go completely"

You pause, "I also want to hear it, it should be okay since the room is sound proof right?"

You don't wait for an answer, you pull your damp panties out of his mouth and hang it on his shoulder. His shaky breaths are clearer now and drool drizzles down faster. The vibrator buzzes against the ring, each wave pushing him closer, but it's not time yet.

When he's about to cum you strike his cock again then use your hand to squeeze it. His head shoots back with a broken sob, his body fighting against the restraints. You gently pump his cock as you finally get what you wanted all along.

It starts with a sniffle, a wet moan, his eyes brim with tears. When you swipe your thumb over his red tip they fall. You toss the crop aside then gently remove the cock ring from him. Your finger caress the skin there then you lean down to take his full length into your mouth.

It happens fast, his hips bucking into your warm mouth, his grunts that grow rougher until he cums down your throat. For a moment it's reliving, but then the stimulation continues. You pull back enough to keep his tip in your mouth then you grab the vibrator to position it on his balls.

Your hands squeeze and twist on his length, and your tongue twirls around his tip then probes at the small entrance. You move fast and precise, hitting all of his sensitive spots until he once again cums. You pull away a little then open your mouth to let his cum drip from your mouth over his swollen cock. Your hands move faster, loud wet squelches that sound like music to your ears, along with his delicious moans that border on whimpers.

You move to sit on his lap, your legs part and you feel the vibrator tease your clit making you sigh softly, then you look up to catch a glimpse of his face, for a moment his eyes open and your world stops. Bright red eyes glossed over with tears, a vivid blush that paints his wet face, it's so beautiful you feel yourself stuck in a trance. You don't even notice that he's once again cummed, this time a thinner load.

Your body burns with desire, your core throbbing almost painfully now. You don't think. One of your hands reaches for his hair to bring his face to you, he leans in for a kiss but your lips move away from his.

You lick under his right eye and when it closes you lick over it, then lightly probe between it. His brows furrow, it's an... interesting feeling, your warm tongue tickles his eye but at the same time it feels pleasurable.

When more tears fall your tongue catches them, greedily taking each one. You continue your journey down, licking the dried tears on his cheek until you reach his lips.

"I love you" you pant. "You're mine, only I get to have you, isn't it wonderful?"

You kiss him deeply then pull away again.

"You being mine, it makes me so happy"

You rest your head against his smiling. Your hand works him over to another orgasm, despite the constant release he remains hard, yet he weakly drizzles out cum.

"My heart feels like it's about to burst, it must be because of how much I love you" you giggle almost drunkly, one of your hands reaches up to touch under his right eye. "So pretty"

You pull back to look at his dazed expression.

"Sylus" you call out softly, after moment his eyes flicker to you with low hum.

"Can you give me one more?"

He thinks for a moment then nods.

You feel a rush of adrenaline, your hands start to move fast again, your mouth kissing and biting into his neck. When you feel him get close, you reach for the vibrator to press it on the underside of his tip and your other hand strokes his base. His abdomen flexes as he cums, small ropes that end quickly. Your touch is constant, drawing out the last bits of his orgasm until he's completely empty.

Suddenly his breath hitches, "w-wait I-"

Before he can finish his sentence clear fluid spurts between your bodies, it's a steady stream that coats the front of your bodies. He shudders and quietly whimpers, his tense abs giving out against his natural release. Mesmerized, your hands stay in place as you look at the new mess.

"-sweetie" his brows are furrowed, his voice shaky as he tries to get your attention.

You flinch and look at him, "huh?"

"The cuffs-mm-take them o-off"

"Oh, yes sorry" you quickly get off his lap, placing the vibrator on the floor before removing the cuffs.

Once off you hear him sigh, his body visibly relaxing, you set the cuffs aside and walk back to him. You watch him stable his breathing, as always he quickly recovers, however it doesn't make you feel any less guilty.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention" you avoid his gaze, focusing on removing his restraints.

He weakly chuckles, "I can tell"

You blush then huff. "Whatever"

As you stand his hands reach for you pulling you down on his lap, you lay limply against his chest. One of his hands plays with your hair as the other secures itself around your body.

"Why are you sulking? you looked so happy earlier"

"I'm not sulking"

"Then look at me and tell what's bothering you"

You turn your head up.

"I'm sorry, I overdid it" you hide your face in his chest. "I'm so embarrassed"

"I enjoyed it, and you enjoyed it, what's wrong with that?" he asks.

"You couldn't have possibly enjoyed all of that"

"Why not?"

"Cause some of it was y'know...weird" you mumble. "or gross"

"Stop making assumptions" he flicks your head making you pull back to glare at him. "If I didn't like something I would've said so"

"So you don't think it was weird?" you ask quietly.

"You've always had... unusual tastes, so I'm not surprised nor bothered, and I'm always willing to try out new things with you. I want to experience many firsts with you"

Your body relaxes and you rest your head on his chest again.

"I want that too"

A minute passes and your eyes widen, you completely forgot about aftercare. You sit up and rush over to the nearby table.

"Sweetie?" he looks at you confused.

You grab a couple warm towels then rush back to him.

"I forgot about this..." you say with a sheepish smile.

You lean down and start to gently clean him up, carefully avoiding the more sensitive areas. Then you toss the dirty towels aside and go back to the table to bring back a water bottle. You press it against his lips slowly tilting the bottle as he sips, once done you go back to the table to set the bottle down and pick up another towel.

You sit back down on his lap now lightly rubbing his face, the warmth of the towel making his eyes close blissfully. You hum softly as you wipe taking your time, his voice eventually joining yours.

You wipe one last time then toss the towel with the rest. Your hands cup his cheeks and his eyes open, he looks content which makes your heart swell.

"You should take a shower"

"Take one with me"

You look at him with a knowing gaze, "if I do we won't be showering"

"We can shower afterwards and there'd be no need to clean up"

He's right but you can't say that.

"Are you not tired?" you say instead.

"Not at all" he chuckles, "on the contrary kitten"

You think about all the times you made him cum earlier.

"...Your stamina is a little scary"

"You've never complained about it when I'm insi-"

"Shh!" you cover his mouth.

"Hm?" you feel him grin under your hands.

"I get it you have amazing stamina let's just go shower now" you stand up and offer your hand which he instantly takes.

"I don't think I can carry you yet, so I can only hold your hand" you say as the two of you walk towards the door.

"You want to carry me?" he asks with a slight laugh.

"...Yes"

"Alright, I'll have to help you build your stamina then" he laughs. "A kitten carrying a dragon, that'll certainly be a sight"

I wanted to try something different this time, I feel like I usally write about MC already having experience with being dominant and stuff so I wanted to explore a bit of early on and her opening up about it with Sylus... and yeah I forgot what else I was gonna say, I think its time for me to go to bed😅 anyways! Once again sorry for the wait and thank u all for ur patience!! 🙏🥺

Next up Zayne - coming untouched

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he expected to find you asleep in bed or curled beneath a blanket on the couch with some show playing quietly in the background. sometimes you waited up for him despite his insistence that you shouldn’t. other times, you were already asleep and he could crawl into bed beside you and press a tired kiss to your forehead.

tonight, there was no sleepy greeting. no footsteps hurriedly coming toward him. no familiar voice calling his name.

instead, as leon shrugged off his jacket, he heard a small giggle coming from the living room.

he paused.

then he frowned as he glanced toward the hallway. you were definitely awake. why didn’t you come to greet him?

he followed the sound expecting to find you watching something on tv, but what he found instead made him stop in the doorway.

you were curled up on the couch with your legs tucked beneath you, your phone held in both hands. your hair was slightly messy, and you had a blanket draped loosely around your waist. you looked comfortable and completely absorbed.

your eyes were bright as you stared at the screen, a tiny smile tugging at your lips. then, you covered your mouth, trying (and failing) to suppress another giggle.

leon stood there for a moment. he had been gone for three whole days. three days being shot at, chased at, threatened, and subjected to some crazy things that would haunt the average person to their grave. he spent the entire flight home thinking about you, imagining how it would be to finally see your face again. and now that he was actually home, you hadn’t even noticed him.

leon cleared his throat.

nothing.

he tried again, louder this time.

“babe?”

still nothing.

he walked closer and leaned over the back of the couch. you remained completely oblivious as his eyes narrowed. he caught a glimpse of the screen.

a handsome man filled it. 

“...seriously?”

that finally got your attention. you startled so badly that your phone nearly slipped from your hands. you turned around and immediately lit up when you saw him.

“leon!” you scrambled off the couch and threw your arms around him.

he caught you easily, instinctively wrapping his arms around your waist as you buried your face against his chest. the exhaustion he'd been carrying seemed to disappear for a moment as he held you close, resting his chin against the top of your head.

he had missed this. missed you. and judging by the way you squeezed him, you had missed him too.

“I’m glad you’re home,” you murmured.

“yeah, me too,” he kissed your hair.

for a moment, everything felt normal again. 

then your phone chimed. your head immediately turned toward it. leon felt your attention leave him before you had even moved.

he looked down at you. you looked at the couch. he raised an eyebrow. you gave him an innocent smile.

“...what?”

“nothing.”

you were already trying not to laugh. leon followed your gaze toward the phone, then looked back at you. 

“so that’s what kept you company while I was gone?”

you nodded. “kind of.”

“kind of?”

love and deepspace.

you explained it with far more enthusiasm than leon had expected. apparently, it had become your new favorite thing while he was away. there were characters to interact with, stories to follow, battles, cards, events, and several very attractive men who had somehow managed to capture an unreasonable amount of your attention.

leon listened, despite his head spinning from your lore explanation.

at first, he looked genuinely interested, it sounded like a solid video game. then you showed him one of the characters. his expression went blank.

“this the guy?” he asked.

“one of them.”

“one of them…?”

leon looked at the screen.

the character was handsome, had purple hair, and was dressed far better than leon had ever been. the man said something about starting a painting of you.

your cheeks immediately turned pink. 

leon noticed, of course he did. “...you like him.”

you laughed and tried to hide your face. “he’s cute…” 

leon gave a quiet, disbelieving scoff.

he had seen you get flustered before. he’d seen you blush because of something he had whispered into your ear, or because he kissed you unexpectedly, or because he gave you a special dessert you were craving.

apparently, all he had to do now was leave you alone with a fictional doctor for a few weeks. 

he wasn’t jealous. not at all. just…curious.

he sat down beside you and watched as you continued playing. you leaned closer to your screen, your smile growing wider whenever one of the characters appeared. he lost track of how many times you would giggle.

leon watched you for several minutes without saying anything. he wanted to be mature about it. he was secure in himself. the man in your phone wasn’t real. there was nothing to worry about.

“I can adapt anywhere and call it a home. But now I have a condition. If you’re not there, then I’m not interested” 

he watched you blush, your mouth falling agape.

“you know,” he said casually. “I’ve been shot at for you.”

you lowered your hands. “what?”

“I’ve saved your life.”

you stared at him, already knowing where this was going.

“I’ve fought monsters.”

your grin widened.

“leon…”

“and these guys? a pilot? I’ve driven a plane before,” he scoffed.

you burst out laughing. “you crashed a plane.”

leon leaned back against the couch, still looking unimpressed. 

“a doctor,” he scoffed, as if the profession itself had personally offended him. 

you nudged his shoulder. “hey, he’s really sweet.”

“I bet. dude can’t stop eating macarons,” he rolled his eyes. 

“and he’s really nice.”

“of course.”

“and he says really romantic things.”

“you’ve got to be kidding me.”

that made you burst out laughing. 

leon couldn’t even maintain the annoyed expression. the corners of his mouth betrayed him, twitching upwards despite his best efforts.

truthfully, leon knew there was nothing serious about it. he knew you loved him. he knew a fictional character couldn’t possibly replace what the two of you had.

but after spending so much time away from you, there was something ridiculous about coming home and finding you completely captivated by someone else, even if it was someone fictional. 

he wanted your attention, that’s all it was.

so he grabbed your phone.

“leon…!” you stared at him in surprise.

he held it just out of reach. “I’ve been home for five minutes and you’ve barely looked at me.”

“give it back!” you squealed.

he lifted his arm higher when you tried to reach for it. 

you laughed, climbing on him to reach your phone. his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you in closer. you couldn’t help but wrap your arms around his shoulders, smiling sweetly at him. 

“there,” he murmured, lowering his hand. “now I have your attention.”

“you were jealous.”

“no. not jealous.”

“you totally were.”

“...”

leon sighed, but a smile cracked on his face. “maybe a little.”

you leaned down and kissed his cheek. then the other. then his nose. then all over his face. he chuckled beneath you, his expression softening immediately. 

“you’re my real boyfriend,” you reminded him. 

“good.”

“it’s just a game.”

“even better.”

you kissed him again, lingering for a moment this time. leon relaxed beneath you, his hands settling comfortably around your waist. for all his teasing, this was all he wanted. you, your warmth, your affection, and your simple reassurance.

you pulled away with a cheeky smile. “did you miss me?”

leon gave you an incredulous look. “no shit I did.”

for a moment, the game was forgotten. …until your phone vibrated again. 

a little notification “xavier wants to see you” 

leon scoffed. “xavier isn’t seeing anyone, especially not my girl.”

you giggled as he picked you up, making his way to the bedroom with your phone forgotten on the couch.

masterlist

© lilacgrayskies on tumblr

You delivered the line with a playful wink, your heart hammering against your ribs. It was another signal. Another tiny, desperate breadcrumb you threw out into the open, hoping he might catch it. You were terrified of ruining the perfect, safe camaraderie you shared, but the agony of falling in love with him all by yourself was becoming too much to bear. You kept testing the waters, dropping hints about romance, dating, and your mutual loneliness, waiting for him to either close the door or step through it.

But as usual, Nanami merely took a measured sip of his drink, his expression an unreadable mask of stoic calm.

Of course, you thought bitterly, looking down at your hands. He just sees me as a colleague. A friend. I'm falling in love all alone.

What you didn’t know—what you couldn't possibly see behind Nanami’s professional composure—was the sheer exercise of willpower it took for him to sit across from you every week and not reach across the table.

Nanami was an expert observer. He noticed the slight tremor in your voice when you made those "jokes." He noticed the way your eyes lingered on his mouth, and how you subtly leaned into his space whenever he walked you back to your apartment. He knew exactly what those signals meant. He knew you were falling for him.

And more importantly, he knew he was completely, utterly undone by you.

Nanami did not believe in leaving things to chance. He hated inefficiency, and he despised regret. He had spent weeks analyzing the situation, weighing the risks of breaking the safe boundaries of your friendship. Unlike you, who feared the ruin of what you had, Nanami had already moved past that fear. He wanted to ruin the friendship. He didn't want a safe platonic bond anymore; he wanted all of you. He was just waiting for the right moment to let the truth float to the surface.

"A great friendship," Nanami repeated slowly, setting his glass down with a soft clink. His eyes locked onto yours, suddenly intense, stripping away the casual nature of the evening. "Is that truly what you think this is?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his demeanor. "I—well, yeah. We’re friends. Aren't we?"

Nanami leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. The warmth of his presence felt suffocating in the best possible way. "We are. But I have never been a man who contents himself with half-measures, especially when it comes to things that matter."

"Nanami, what are you saying?" your voice was barely a whisper. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest.

"I am saying that I see the signals you send, and I have no intention of letting you fall in love alone," he said, his voice entirely devoid of hesitation. It was a direct, unwavering declaration. "I am perfectly willing to ruin our friendship, if it means we can find out where this actually goes."

The world seemed to stop. The background noise of the bistro faded into nothingness. You stared at him, your breath catching in your throat as his words sunk in. He wasn't rejecting you. He hadn't been blind to your hints. He had been waiting.

"You... you want to ruin it?" you breathed.

A rare, incredibly soft smile tugged at the corner of Nanami’s lips. He reached across the table, his large, warm hand covering yours, firmly anchoring you to him. His thumb stroked the back of your knuckles, a possessive, grounding touch.

"Yes," Nanami murmured, his gaze softening with a profound, quiet devotion. "Let’s let it float. Let's see exactly where we land."

The cool evening air hit you two the moment you stepped out of the bistro. The city noise was a distant murmur, muffled by the late hour.

Usually, this was the part of the night where Nanami would walk exactly half a step behind you, keeping a respectful, professional distance until he saw you safely to your door. But tonight, the rules were gone.

Before you could even take two steps down the pavement, Nanami’s hand found yours again. This time, his large fingers slid between yours, locking your palms together securely. He pulled you slightly closer to his side, his long coat brushing against your sleeve.

"Are you cold?" he asked, looking down at you. The sharp, intimidating edge he usually carried around the school was completely absent.

"A little," you admitted, your face flushing red, though it had less to do with the temperature and everything to do with the solid, overwhelming warmth of his hand.

"But I'm mostly just... trying to process what actually happened."

"I am a practical man," Nanami said, his pace slow and deliberate, matching your stride perfectly. "If I see a situation that requires a resolution, I resolve it. We have spent six months dancing around an obvious truth. It was a poor use of our time." You let out a soft laugh, leaning your shoulder against his arm as you walked.

"You are the only person I know who can make a romantic confession sound like a business strategy, Kento."

Hearing his given name roll off your lips sent a distinct, heavy jolt straight through his chest. He stopped walking.

They were under the dim, amber glow of a streetlamp, just outside the gate of your apartment building. The light caught the sharp lines of his jaw and the deep, dark intensity of his eyes as he turned to face you fully. He didn't let go of your hand; instead, he used his grip to pull you an inch closer, closing the remaining distance between your bodies.

"It is not a business strategy," Nanami said, his voice dropping an octave, becoming rougher, more intimate. His free hand rose, his long fingers gently cupping the side of your jaw.

His thumb brushed over your lower lip. "A business strategy has a budget. It has an exit plan. I have neither of those things when it comes to you."

Your breath hitched. "Nanami..."

"Kento," he corrected softly.

He leaned down, giving you plenty of time to pull back if you wanted to. But you didn't. You reached up, your fingers gripping the lapels of his suit jacket as you met him halfway.The kiss was everything Nanami had been holding back for the last six months. It wasn't the tentative, fragile kiss of a friend testing the waters. It was deep, possessive, and heavy with an unspoken promise. His hand at your jaw shifted, his fingers tangling into your hair to hold you steady against him, while his other arm wound around your waist, lifting you slightly off your feet to bring you flush against his chest.

He tasted like the dark wine from dinner and the cool winter air, but underneath it all was just him—solid, real, and entirely yours.

When he finally pulled back, he didn't go far.

His forehead rested against yours, his breath hot against your face. His chest was heaving slightly, the perfect composure he prided himself on completely shattered by the touch of your lips.

"The friendship," Nanami murmured, a faint, breathless trace of amusement in his voice, "is officially ruined."

You smiled up at him, your arms wrapping around his neck, burying your face into the crook of his shoulder where it smelled of expensive cologne and safety.

"Good. I hated being friends anyway."