Chapter 40 Vespera
forty
Vespera
The nest helps.
I don't want it to. Don't want to admit that something so simple like soft fabrics arranged right, saturated with their scents, can make the burning ease even slightly. But it does.
The cashmere is softer than anything I've ever touched. The silk cool against my overheated skin. The weighted blanket grounds me when everything else feels like I'm floating away. And their scents—sandalwood and cedar and mint all woven together—make my body relax in ways I can't control.
"Better?" Oakley asks softly.
I nod, unable to form words. The heat is building again, that brief clarity from our conversation already fading. My skin feels too tight. Every nerve ending is screaming. The ache between my legs is becoming unbearable.
I shift in the nest, trying to find relief. Slick is coating my thighs, soaking into the expensive fabrics. I should be embarrassed. Should care that I'm making a mess of Dorian's bed, of these materials that probably cost more than my entire scholarship.
I don't.
All I can focus on is the need. The empty, aching need that no amount of fabric or scent can fill.
"Hurts," I manage, the word coming out broken. "It hurts so much."
"I know, baby." Dorian's voice is rough. "We're going to help. But you need to tell us what you need. We're not—" He cuts off, jaw clenching. "We're not going to assume. Not this time."
The reference to the pack house claiming makes something twist in my chest. That first heat when they'd taken me without really asking, when the bonds had formed whether I wanted them or not.
This is different. They're trying to make it different.
"Touch me." The words tumble out desperate and needy. "Please. I need—I can't—"
Another wave hits and I'm curling in on myself, whimpering. The nest isn't enough anymore. Their scents aren't enough. I need skin. Need contact. Need them inside me filling the awful emptiness.
"Okay." Dorian climbs onto the bed, moving slowly like I'm something fragile. "Okay, sweetheart. We've got you."
His hands are on me—one cupping my face, the other sliding down my side. Touch, simple contact, but it feels like lightning. My body arches into it, craving more.
"Tell me," he says, thumb brushing my lower lip. "Tell me exactly what you need."
"You." I turn my head, catching his thumb between my teeth. Bite down hard enough to make him growl. "All of you. Need to be full. Need—" A sob chokes me. "Please."
"Christ," Oakley breathes from somewhere behind me. "She's so fucking perfect like this."
Corvus is unnaturally still, watching with those calculating eyes. But his arousal is sharp mint cutting through everything else. The bulge straining his slacks is obvious.
They're all barely holding on.
Good. I don't want control right now. Don't want careful or gentle. I want them as desperate as I am.
"Clothes off," I demand, finding some authority even through the heat haze. "All of you. Now."
Dorian's eyes flash—surprised, aroused. "Bossy little omega."
"Your bossy omega." I yank at his shirt, buttons scattering. "Who's dying right now. So move."
He strips fast, revealing all that perfect pale skin and muscle. His cock is already hard, flushed and leaking. My mouth waters.
Behind me, Oakley is pulling off his shirt. I twist to watch, admiring the way his muscles shift under darker skin. He catches me looking and grins, cocky and warm.
"Like what you see?"
"Shut up and get naked."
He laughs, the sound rich and genuine, and something in my chest eases slightly. Even in the middle of this, he can make me feel almost normal.
Corvus is the last to undress, methodical and precise even now. His body is leaner than the others, all elegant lines and controlled strength. His cock is long and pale, already hard, a bead of precum at the tip.
They're all beautiful. All mine.
The possessive thought should scare me. Instead it makes the heat surge harder.
"Need—" I can't finish the sentence. Can't articulate the desperate ache. I reach for Dorian, pulling him down into the nest with me.
Our skin connects and it's like fire. I gasp, grinding against him shamelessly. His cock slides through my slick and we both groan.
"Fuck," he grits out. "You're soaking."
"Your fault." I bite his jaw. "Three days of torture. This is what you get."
"I know." He catches my hips, holding me still even though he's shaking with restraint. "I know, baby, and I'm sorry. Let me make it better."
His hand slides between us, fingers finding my clit. I nearly sob at the contact—finally, finally something that helps. He circles it slowly, building the pleasure while I writhe against him.
"That's it," he murmurs. "Let me take care of you."
"Not enough." I'm clawing at his shoulders. "Need you inside. Need—"
"I've got you." He shifts, lining himself up. "Ready?"
"Yes. God, yes."
He thrusts in and I scream.
Full. Finally full. His cock is thick and hard and perfect, stretching me in ways that make my eyes roll back. The bonds flare bright enough to blind, connecting us in ways that go beyond physical.
"Holy fuck," Dorian gasps. "You feel, ah, Vespera."
He's barely holding still, giving me time to adjust. I don't want time. Don't want slow or gentle. The heat is eating me alive and I need more.
"Move," I demand. "Hard. Don't you dare be careful."
Something in his expression shifts—the last thread of control snapping. He withdraws almost completely, then slams back in with enough force to make me see stars.
"Like that?" His voice is pure gravel. "That what you need?"
"Yes. Fuck. Yes."
He sets a brutal pace, hips snapping against mine. Each thrust hits something devastating inside me, building pleasure so intense it borders on pain. I'm making sounds I've never made before—broken, desperate, completely shameless.
"So perfect." Dorian's mouth is on my neck, teeth scraping the claiming mark. "Taking me so well. Made for this. Made for us."
The words should make me angry. Should remind me of all the ways they've manipulated and hurt me. Instead they make me clench around him, dragging a groan from his throat.
"Touch her," he orders without stopping his rhythm. "Make her come."
Hands—I don't know whose—slide across my skin. Someone's thumb finds my clit while another set of fingers pinches my nipples. The dual stimulation is too much and not enough, pleasure building to unbearable heights.
"Can't—" I'm gasping, shaking. "Too much, I can't—"
"You can." Dorian's voice is firm, commanding. "Come for me, Vespera. Now."
The orgasm hits like a freight train. I convulse around him, screaming, pleasure so intense it whites out everything else. Distantly I hear him curse, feel his rhythm stutter.
"Fuck, I'm—" He tries to pull out but I lock my legs around him.
"No. Inside. Want your knot."
"You sure?" He's barely holding on. "Once I knot you—"
"I'm sure." I pull him down for a bruising kiss. "Fill me up. Claim me. Make me yours."
He comes with a roar, buried deep, and the moment his knot starts to swell is overwhelming. The stretch is intense, locking us together as heat floods my core.
The relief is immediate and all-consuming. The awful emptiness finally satisfied. The bonds singing with rightness. My body relaxes into the nest, tension draining as my heat temporarily eases.
"Better?" Dorian's forehead rests against mine, both of us panting.
"So much better." The clarity is temporary but welcome. My mind feels like mine again instead of a collection of desperate needs. "God, I missed being able to think."
"I like you both ways." He shifts carefully, adjusting so the knot isn't pulling. "But I especially like when you can talk back."
I look past him to where Oakley and Corvus are watching. Both are rock hard, barely restrained. Waiting their turn like we've done this dance before.
Because we have.
"You two okay?"
"Watching you come is the hottest thing I've ever seen," Oakley says bluntly. "So yeah. I'm fantastic. Also dying. But fantastic."
Despite everything, I laugh. "We've got forty minutes. Use it wisely."
"Not nearly enough time." But he's smiling, warm and genuine, and that secondary bond pulses with affection.
Corvus hasn't moved, still watching with that intense focus. "You're handling this better than the lake house."
"Better nest." I stretch slightly, testing the knot. Still locked tight. "And you're not all walking on eggshells pretending everything's fine."
"Fair point." His lips quirk. "Though I'd argue our eggshell-walking had merit given the circumstances."
"You kidnapped me."
"Also fair."
The absurdity of having this conversation while knotted to Dorian makes me laugh again. This is what I needed—normalcy woven into the intensity. Proof that we can be us even in the middle of heat.
Dorian's hands are gentle in my hair. "What are you thinking?"
"That this is weird but good." I meet his eyes. "That I'm still angry but I love you anyway. That my body is a traitor but my brain is catching up."
"I'll take it." He kisses me softly. "As long as your brain keeps catching up in the right direction."
"Don't push your luck."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
We talk quietly while the knot holds—about nothing important, everything important. He tells me about Corvus dragging him out of his spiral. I tell him about Robbie reminding me I don't have to accept scraps.
It's intimate in ways that have nothing to do with sex. This is what we needed to build—trust underneath the biology.
When his knot finally starts to recede, the heat begins to curl in my belly again. Not urgent yet, but building.
"Oakley." I turn my head to find him. "Ready?"
"Always." He's already moving, sliding into the nest as Dorian carefully withdraws. The brief emptiness makes me whimper, but Oakley is there immediately, hands gentle on my hips.
"I've got you, sweetheart."