Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
Rowan
"Clothes," Juno gasped, his head falling back against the dusty leather. "Off. All of them. Now."
He looked at us through half-lidded, golden eyes that were swimming in a haze of pure biological demand. Sweat beaded on his collarbone, catching the harsh light of the single bulb.
"If you don't take them off," he warned, his voice a jagged rasp, "I will rip them off. And unlike Stephen, I don't care about the replacement cost of Italian silk."
I didn't doubt him. The air in the room was thick enough to chew on, heavy with the scent of burnt sugar and the electric crackle of his distress. He was burning up from the inside out.
"Understood," Mateo said.
He didn't hesitate. Mateo shed his jacket and his shirt in a series of efficient movements that spoke of doing this many times before.
When he kicked off his boots and shoved his jeans down, the sheer size of him in the small cabin felt like a geological event.
I had seen him before when we'd been together, but it had only been a brief glimpse.
This time I was able to stare, to observe, and my god, the man was a work of art.
Stephen was slower, but no less deliberate. He unknotted his tie, folded his glasses and set them on the mantle, and unbuttoned his shirt with steady fingers. When he was naked, he looked like a runner, all lean, defined, and precise.
I fumbled with the zipper of my dress. My hands were shaking. Group sex was a new experience for me, assuming they wanted me that involved. If they didn't that was fine, but I wasn't about to risk ruining my dress either way. It was one of my favorites.
"Let me," Juno said.
He scrambled off the couch. He moved like a creature made of fever and wire. He was in front of me before I could protest, his fingers parting the silk from my skin, making me gasp from the heat in his touch. He stripped me not with romance, but with a desperate need for skin contact.
When the dress pooled at my feet, he didn't step back. He pressed his naked body against mine.
"Hot," I mumbled. My brain was short circuiting from the overwhelming amount of information it was taking in. I knew that Omegas had temperature spikes during their heats but I hadn't known it the same way I did now.
He was searing. It was like hugging a radiator. His skin was slick with sweat, and the contact sent a jolt through my nervous system that nearly buckled my knees.
"I'm dying, Rowan," he whispered into my neck, nipping at the skin. "Fix it."
He pushed away and looked at the two Alphas standing like statues in the gloom.
"Stephen," Juno commanded. "First."
Mateo didn't flinch at being passed over. He understood the hierarchy of needs. Mateo was the sledgehammer; Stephen was the scalpel. Right now, Juno needed precision before he needed impact.
Stephen stepped forward. He grabbed a bottle of lube from the emergency supply kit had appeared from somewhere in the small cottage.
Juno turned around, bracing his hands on the arm of the sofa, presenting himself. The curve of his spine was elegant, almost feminine in its arch, but the muscle definition was strictly masculine.
"Prep him," Mateo rumbled, watching with dark, hungry eyes.
Stephen coated his fingers. He moved in behind Juno. He didn't rush. He pressed a thumb against Juno, checking the resistance.
"Relax," Stephen ordered, his voice cool and authoritative.
"I can't," Juno whined, his hips twitching. "It hurts. Just shove it in."
"If I shove it in, you'll tear," Stephen corrected calmly. "Breathe."
Stephen slid one finger in. Juno cried out, a sharp, broken sound. Stephen began to work him, stretching the tight muscle, adding a second finger, then a third. He was methodical, his face a mask of concentration as he prepared Juno to take what he was begging for.
"Rowan," Juno gasped, looking over his shoulder at me. His eyes were blown wide, desperate. "Front. I need... I need eyes."
I moved. I stepped around the sofa until I was sitting on the cushion in front of Juno. I was face to face with him, inches away.
"I'm here," I said.
"Touch me," he begged.
I reached out. I ran my hands over his chest, playing with his nipples for a moment before I slid my hand over his damp stomach. He rocked against my touch and Stephen's fingers as I moved lower.
He was hard, painfully so, leaking pre-come that mixed with the sweat on his thighs. I wrapped my hand around him and began to work him.
The angle was slightly awkward so I slid forward and Juno moved as well so he was almost positioned over me. He groaned as I tightened my grip and dropped his head onto my shoulder as I began to stroke.
"Ready," Stephen said.
He didn't wait for a reply. He lined himself up and pushed inside.
Juno screamed. It wasn't pain; it was the sound of a pressure valve blowing. He bucked back against Stephen, impaling himself, taking the full length of him in one desperate slide.
"Good," Stephen grunted, gripping Juno’s hips. "Take it."
Stephen began to move. It wasn't the slow, sensual rhythm he had used on me. It was hard, fast, and deep. He was fucking Juno with a rhythmic precision, snapping his hips forward with every thrust.
Juno was unraveling in my arms. He bit my shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark, while his hips slammed back against Stephen.
I kept stroking him, matching the rhythm of Stephen’s thrusts.
The slick sound of skin slapping against skin filled the tiny cabin, mixing with the rain on the roof and Juno’s ragged moans and gasps.
"Harder," Juno demanded, his voice wrecked. "Stephen, break it. Break the fever."
Stephen complied. He picked up the pace, driving into Juno with ruthless efficiency. I watched Stephen’s face over Juno’s shoulder; eyes closed, jaw locked, lost in the primitive work of claiming his packmate.
"Rowan," Juno choked out. "Don't stop. Don't you dare stop."
I pumped my hand faster, feeling the tension coiling in him. The burnt sugar scent spiked, becoming almost acrid.
Suddenly, Stephen groaned, uncharacteristically loud.
"I'm close," Stephen warned, his voice strained. "Juno, I'm going to knot you. Going to…"
Juno threw his head back and howled.
I watched, fascinated and terrified, as Juno’s body seized. The internal pressure of the knot locking into place sent him over the edge.
He came.
It wasn't a normal release. It was a deluge.
He shuddered violently, crying out my name, and hot fluid erupted over my hand, painting my stomach, running down his own thighs.
It kept coming, wave after wave, an impossible amount of volume that spoke to the specific biological differences he had hidden for so long.
"God," I breathed, slick with him.
Juno slumped forward against me, panting, trapped by the knot inside him and the exhaustion of the release. He looked down at the mess between us, a lopsided, delirious grin cutting through his agony.
"Male Omega privilege," he wheezed, nuzzling my neck. "Volume button is stuck on max."
"It's everywhere," I whispered, wiping my hand on his hip.
"It's supposed to be," he murmured. "Scent marking. You smell like me now."
We lay there for ten minutes, locked together in a sweating, breathing tangle, waiting for Stephen’s knot to subside. Mateo watched us the whole time, pacing like a caged tiger, his erection straining against his own self-control.
Finally, Stephen let out a long breath. He pulled out slowly, a wet, suctioning sound that made my own core clench. A swell of fluids, Stephen’s come and Juno’s own slick, escaped, running down Juno’s legs.
Juno wobbled. I caught him.
"Not done," Juno gasped. "The wave... it's just the first one. Mateo."
"Here," Mateo rumbled.
He stepped into the light. He looked massive. Terrifying.
"Floor," Juno ordered. "Rowan, on your back. Mateo, behind me."
I didn't argue with the logistics. I just moved from the couch down to the dusty rug. The wool scratched my back, but I didn't care.
Juno crawled over me. He fit himself against my hips, my legs framing his waist. He looked down at me, his hair wild, his chest heaving. He looked like a fallen angel who had decided to enjoy the fall.
"I need to be inside you," Juno whispered. "I need the circuit closed."
He lowered himself, grinding against me, coating both of us in fluid, not that we needed it.
He pushed into me with one sharp thrust of his hips. He was hot, ridged, and I could feel every inch of him stretching me. He filled me in a way that felt terrifyingly intimate.
Then Mateo moved in behind him.
I watched Juno’s face as Mateo entered him.
Juno’s eyes rolled back in his head. His mouth opened in a silent scream of pleasure as Mateo, who was significantly larger than Stephen, forced his way in.
"Jesus," Juno choked out, bracing his hands on the floor so he didn't crush me. "Mateo. Heavy."
"I've got you," Mateo growled, gripping Juno’s waist with hands that spanned almost the entire distance.
Mateo began to thrust.
The force of it transferred through Juno and into me. Every time Mateo slammed into Juno, Juno was driven deeper into me. We were a chain of sensation, linked by friction and sweat.
Juno found his rhythm. He started to ride me, grinding his hips, meeting Mateo’s thrusts with a counter-movement that was pure, fluid instinct.
"Look at her," Mateo ordered Juno, his voice a low bark. "Look at Rowan."
Juno looked down at me. His face was a mask of ecstasy. Sweat dripped from his nose onto my lips. I licked it away. It tasted salty and sweet.
"You're taking us both," Juno groaned, thrusting into me. "Technically."
"I'm taking you," I gasped, reaching up to grip his arms. "Just you."
Stephen appeared in my peripheral vision. He wasn't done. He knelt beside us, the strategist finding the gap in the formation.
"You're neglecting the asset," Stephen murmured to Juno.