Chapter 19 - Em #3
“And I told you anytime,” Stan replies, sitting beside me and reaching for my hand. “I meant it, Em.”
His fingers gently pry one of my fists open to thread the digits together. The contact sends a tremor up my arm. It’s such an unexpectedly pleasant thrill that I can’t possibly pull away.
Nil watches from the bedside. His attention rests on where Stan’s holding me, then lifts to my face, careful and searching.
The intensity of his gaze makes me fidget. I adjust my glasses with my other hand, though they sit perfectly fine on my face.
“The reason I’m here is…” I swallow as my throat tightens. “I came for clarity.”
Stan’s other hand cups my cheek. “Then we’ll give it to you.”
The mattress dips as Nil joins us on my right side. His gold stud on his left ear catches the flicker of the artificial fire.
“What do you need to know from us, Em?” Nil asks, tipping his head down and leaning toward me to be at my eye level.
Heat spreads low in my abdomen, rather insistent for attention aching between my inner thighs. I take in a careful breath, focusing on the artificial fireplace and the rushing rhythm of my heart.
“It seems what I’m hearing from you both is…” I start, choosing my words with care, “desire to perform physical intimacy?”
Stan grins, entirely unapologetic. “Yep.”
Nil takes my other hand tentatively with a looser grip compared to my left hand in Stan’s. “That, yes,” he says. “But also, we want to take care of you.”
He clears his throat, color blooming across his cheekbones and ears. The sight pulls my focus toward him. His gaze is on mine, even when his fingers in mine twitch.
“You’ve been on our minds, Em,” he says. “Both of ours. It feels right to take care of you. To be here with you.”
I glance over to my left. Stan stays silent, watching Nil with an expression that reads proud and patient.
When I stare at the man on my right, Nil continues. “We’d be honored if you chose us, Em. Even if it’s just for one night. Even if all you want is to lean on us because you want to.”
The room feels compressed around us, shaped by the sincerity in his words.
I draw in a breath, trying to make a decision. I hadn’t assembled these pieces myself before they laid them out, but in hindsight, the pattern’s quite clear.
With Stan, his attraction and desire was always apparent. He flirted freely, joked boldly, and never hid his interest. But Nil caught me by surprise. Until moments ago, I mistook his blushing for something else. Now I recognize it for what it is. Attraction and the potential to act on it.
My heart stutters, then resumes with renewed strength, easing some of the lingering pressure from my failed experiment.
All the lives I’ve affected—ruined—merely because I can’t keep focus and pay attention to every detail laid out in front of me. I don’t intend to miss any more.
Decision-making has been difficult, but I won’t overlook what’s in front of me again.
Stan brings my hand to his lips, pulling me from my thoughts. “That’s as clear as we can get,” he whispers. “Hope it wasn’t too much all at once, Em.”
I take in the intentness in their gazes.
My skin’s overly aware and slick with sweat now that I’m warm all over my body, from my damp collar to my fingertips, no longer freezing cold.
“I’m still processing,” I admit. “I didn’t expect this.”
I attempt a smile, but it doesn’t hold.
“You may already know this about me, but I pride myself in my observations,” I say. “Nothing goes unnoticed, typically.” My gaze drifts between them. “I notice details, patterns, symmetry. I notice that you’re both—”
“—hot as hell,” Stan supplies.
A corner of my lips lifts, but the warmth drains almost immediately as my thoughts scatter.
The room feels even more compressed, altered in a tilting motion that makes me nauseous, as images surface in my mind.
Roaring fire. Warm blood. My mother’s emerald green eyes losing their sparkle.
Sergio losing his eyes. Gerald losing his liver.
And every single person—subject, staff, friends—on that ship or those still in the grip of an unclean Kys…
I’ve let them all down.
The crushing pressure of my glaring failures close in from every direction.
My breath shortens. My hands feel distant. I recognize the sensation. I don’t know how to stop it once it starts. I can only hope it ends.
There’s movement beside me. A voice cuts through, close to me. “Em,” Stan says, sounding oddly scared. “Hey, look at me.”
I can’t. I try, but everything inside my head feels loud. Information stacks faster than I can sort it. Nil’s blue eyes. Stan’s gray gaze. How they look at me as though I’m worth concern, when I’m wasting time cataloging data that leads nowhere except deeper into a mind that’s far too filled.
Nil’s voice joins his. “Idris said she might get overwhelmed sometimes,” he says, not to me but near me.
“What do we do?” Stan asks, urgency breaking through.
Nil answers in an instant. “Breathe with her. Idris said four counts. We guide it.”
Hands find me. I don’t register whose at first—only pressure, solid and warm. Arms around my shoulders, holding me so close that I can feel a heartbeat against my cheek.
“Em,” Nil whispers. “You don’t have to think. Just breathe.”
I try. Air stutters in.
Stan’s voice is right by my ear. “Hey, Em. Copy the way my chest moves, okay?”
They breathe for me. Count for me. I latch onto the sound of their voices, the rhythm of their breaths. The pressure around me pulls back a bit. It feels as if I’m finally taking in oxygen.
“In,” Nil murmurs. “Good. Out.”
My body responds before my mind does. Breath steadies in increments. The noise inside my head dulls, receding as sensation returns.
Stan’s arms remain wrapped around me, his chin on top of my head. Nil keeps my hand enclosed in his, thumb tracing the same path again and again.
“That’s it,” Stan whispers. “You’re doing great, gorgeous.”
I don’t answer. I don’t need to. With Nil and Stan, there’s no pressure to perform or explain. They simply let me exist. No expectation but breath.
The room gradually comes back into focus. When I lift my head, I see Stan, his gray eyes dilated wide, tracking me closely.
As panic subsides, a stronger drive rises within me, cutting through every rule I ever made, and stirring arousal below my abdomen. It pushes everything else aside. The ship. The sea. The experiment. The feeling of not noticing sooner, of not being enough.
I don’t want any of those feelings. I want this.
I lift my hand, holding the front of Stan’s shirt to draw him closer. His next breath leaves him shaky, but he doesn’t pull away.
“Em,” he murmurs, rough and careful all at once.
Then I kiss him, the choice clear now that I’m letting instincts drive me, no longer heeding the spiraling thoughts of my overanalyzing mind.
Stan exhales into the kiss, breath breaking into a soft sound of surprise and pleasure, as his smile curves slowly against my lips.
“But…” I murmur against his mouth. “I’m not interested in attachment. Not in the traditional sense.”
Stan’s thumb brushes my jaw, light but certain. “Yeah?” he whispers, his lips hovering shy of mine. “We’ll see about that, gorgeous.”
Then he kisses me back, confident yet leisure, as though he has all the time in the world and intends to use it.
He lets me breathe when his lips drift down the line of my jaw and the column of my neck. Heat continues to pool low, slow and heavy, between my thighs, until the ache demands immediate attention.
Nil’s by my side, his hands careful as they skim my waist, holding me down while I writhe from Stan’s wandering lips.
When Nil’s fingers begin to ease my clothes aside, a sultry sound leaves me before I can stop it.
“Nil—”
He stops me, placing his lips on mine. “Moan my name again, Em,” he murmurs, strained like it costs him to speak. “But from now on, call me Lix.”
Stan’s kisses are incredibly distracting, but a question breaks through the haze, too curious not to be asked. “Is there…any particular reason?” I manage between heavy breaths.
“Because it’s the name I heard the most,” Nil answers, “from people I love.”
More heat rushes through me. My face burns, too fast, too much. It’s become difficult to breathe again while I’m overheating.
“I—” I try to say, but the word dies in my parched throat.
They both react with worry instantly.
“Em,” Stan says, all humor gone. His hands grip my shoulders. “Hey, gorgeous?”
Lix curses under his breath and steps away. “I’m getting water.”
He’s gone in a flash. Stan moves just as quickly as he reaches for a remote. The artificial fireplace clicks off. He cracks a window open, and cold winter air spills in, bracing and crisp.
“Breathe,” he murmurs, his lips landing gentle kisses on my hair. “C’mon, Em, breathe with me.”
The cool air helps. My head clears enough for embarrassment to arrive in its wake. “I’m sorry,” I say.
Stan squeezes my shoulders, loosening knots. “Not something you ever need to say sorry for.”
Lix returns soon after, breathless and holding a cold bottle of water. He twists it open and brings it to my lips. I drink, guided by his careful hand.
“Good girl,” he says, watching me with focused concern. “Feeling better?”
His praise has me dizzy for a few seconds, but I nod, swallowing down more water.
Once the lingering heat ebbs, I lift my gaze to him.
“Lix,” I say, calling him as he requested.
His breath catches, and when he smiles, it’s so beautiful that it almost takes my own breath away, but I can’t keep worrying them.
So I smile back as he steps closer, the air between us becoming charged. His eyes dip to my lips, restraint visible in the tension of his jaw.
“Em, if you’re feeling better,” he murmurs, his voice deep and strained. “Would you mind giving us tonight?” His breath brushes my cheek. “One night to see if the three of us fit.”
My answer comes without a second’s hesitation. “No.”
Stan goes still, gray eyes going wide. “What?”