Chapter 15 Milo
milo
That evening, after practice, our regular routine starts up again.
Iris’ apartment, takeout, and everything feeling like home.
Iris ordered Thai from the place on West Street that Quentin likes, the containers spread across the coffee table between half-empty glasses of wine and a roll of paper towels from the sriracha I knocked over ten minutes ago.
I sink into the couch cushions with my legs tucked beneath me and my wine glass balanced on my knee, relaxing for the first time in the last two days. God, it feels good not to have to sneak around anymore.
Iris is sitting on the floor between Quentin's legs, her back against his chest, the conversation drifting between the game and Coach's office and my scent blocker situation, the tension of the past few days unwinding in real time.
"I'm sorry about the game," I say, staring at the sriracha stain on the paper towel for longer than is reasonable. "For being so obvious. My scent, the way I froze when you went to check on Q. I'm the reason the whole sideline found out."
Iris turns to look at me. "Stop."
"I should have had better control. If I'd been wearing the blockers—"
"Milo." She sets her wine glass down. "I'm glad it happened."
"You're glad we got outed in front of the entire team and three scouts?"
"I'm glad the hiding stopped." She lets out a small sigh, sagging back my brother.
"The secrecy was killing me. Every time I had to look away from you at practice, every time I couldn't touch Quentin in public, every time my father asked me why I was happy and I lied to his face.
That was worse than anything Chad could have done.
And I didn't realize it until yesterday, when it was gone. "
Quentin's hand moves to rest on her hip. "The hiding was the worst part," he agrees, his voice low enough that I almost miss it. She twists just enough to press a kiss to his jaw, Quentin offering a hum of approval.
God, they look so gorgeous like this. Picture perfect.
"So what happens now?" I ask, before my mind starts spiraling into changing majors to photography.
"What do you mean? We’re together, which means I get to hold my boyfriends’ hands in public and kiss you when I think no one’s watching.
” My face burns a little at the image of Iris cornering me in the hallway.
Yes, please. Iris laughs. “Well, at least we know the scent blockers are working. Come on. I’d like to get a little more comfortable and as much as I love the couch… ”
I pop up off the cushions and rush down the hallway, abandoning all pretense and throw myself into Iris’ nest face-first, my body hitting the blankets hard enough to send two pillows bouncing off the mattress.
I roll onto my back, pull the nearest blanket up to my chin, and let out another sigh that vibrates through my entire body.
"This. This is what I needed. This exact thing. "
Quentin steps over my legs to settle against the headboard. "I've never seen you this excited about a nest. You have your own."
"So? This one’s different."
Iris climbs in beside me, next to my brother, tucking her legs beneath her. "You don't use yours? I thought I saw one when I was at your dorm."
I shrug, pulling the blanket tighter. "I built it but I never really use it.
It always felt like something was missing and I could never figure out what.
" I gesture around us, at the fairy lights and the canopy and the two people settling in on either side of me.
"Turns out it was this. The whole time. Just this.
" I press my face into the pillow and breathe in the tangle of our three scents soaked into the fabric.
"Besides, yours is way more comfortable. The thread count alone—"
"You don't know the thread count," Quentin says.
"I can feel the thread count, Q. My skin has opinions."
Iris laughs, settling deeper against the pillows, her wine glass balanced on her knee. The sound fades into something quieter as her expression shifts, her fingers tracing the rim of the glass.
"My dad brought up the nest," she says. "When I went to see him last night.
" My hand finds hers as Quentin shifts so that his legs on either side of her again.
Possessive bastard. "I didn't mention mine or anything.
He just asked. He said he boxed up my mother's nest after she died because he couldn't look at it.
He put everything in storage and never dealt with it and then he realized he never talked to me about it.
Dad knew it was my safe place. He was pretty broken up about the fact that he never asked if I might have the same instinct. "
I bring her hand up to my lips, my breath ghosting over her knuckles.
"He said my mom would have known. That she would have seen it immediately and helped me build the damn thing. His words." A breath leaves her, unsteady at the edges. "He cried, you guys. My dad sat at the kitchen table and cried."
The image of Coach Delacroix crying in his kitchen is something I will carry with me for a very long time.
This man screams at referees and runs drills in blizzards and has never shown anything softer than mild approval.
And he sat across from his daughter and cried because he didn't know that she needed more.
"He loves you," I manage to say, because it's the only thing true enough to be worth saying.
"I know." She tips her head back against Quentin's shoulder. "That's what made it so hard to tell him."
A small silence fills the space as Iris finishes her wine and then sets it at the edge of the nest. I let out a small sigh, taking in the perfectness of this space until Iris’ scent spikes.
I sit up straight and look at her, her lips parted slightly, confused until I catch one of Quentin’s hands down the front of her pants.
Well, then.
Crawling up to her proves the right move, Iris tugging me forward into a deep kiss, her tongue thrusting into my mouth and tangling with mine. A gasp tears from her throat, her scent spiking further.
“My brother’s got you, doesn’t he?” I mumble against her lips. She nods, kissing me again but the moment her scent spikes a second time, my body responds as well. A full whine peels from my lips as slick coats the inside of my shorts, my eyes rolling into the back of my head.
Fuck.
Iris and Quentin both sit up as I embarrassingly wave my hands.
“It’s not… I’m not in heat. I just… it’s really hot okay?
You two together. I mean. I just…” I groan as more slick fills my underwear, the warmth spreading down my thighs.
"My body has zero chill. Absolutely none.
This is a personal failing and I'm aware of it. "
Quentin's expression hasn't changed but his scent has deepened, going sharp with arousal. Iris is watching me with dark eyes, her chest rising and falling faster than it was a minute ago, and the look she gives Quentin over her shoulder makes my stomach drop in the best way.
"Come here," she says, her voice sharpening with that Alpha edge to it, the one that makes my whole body go pliant. She looks at Quentin, then back at me, something passing between the three of us that makes my pulse spike. "I want both of you. At the same time."
The nest goes quiet.
"Both of us," Quentin repeats.
"Both of you." Iris's chin lifts, her composure holding even though her scent has gone molten. "I've been thinking about it since the first night. I want to feel both of you inside me."
My brain short-circuits for a solid three seconds. Quentin's jaw tightens in the way it does when he's running calculations, except the math he's doing right now has nothing to do with anatomy coursework. "Logistics," he murmurs, because of course that's where his brain goes first.
"I'll be on top of you because you shouldn’t be doing much with that arm," Iris says to Quentin. She turns to me. "And Milo takes the back."
"The back?" I repeat, my voice cracking on the word.
"We don't have lube," Quentin says.
All three of us look down at the slick currently coating my thighs. The silence stretches for exactly two seconds before Iris' mouth twitches. "I think we're covered," she chuckles.
My ears burn so hot I'm surprised they don't catch fire. "This is simultaneously the most embarrassing and the most useful my biology has ever been."
"Are you okay with this?" Iris asks, the Alpha edge dropping from her voice, replaced by something softer.
"I'm very okay with this." I swallow. "Extremely. Aggressively okay."
She looks at Quentin. He nods once, his hand finding her hip, his thumb pressing into the bone. "Yeah."
Clothes come off in a tangle. Iris pulls her shirt over her head while Quentin's hands work her pants down her hips, and I manage to strip my shorts off without making the slick situation worse, which is a minor miracle.
Iris turns and straddles Quentin, her knees settling on either side of his hips, her hands bracing on his chest. He grips her waist and guides her down onto him, both of them exhaling at the same time, Iris' head tipping back as she takes him in.
I kneel behind her, my hands on her hips, my cock hard and leaking against the small of her back. The slick is everywhere, dripping down my thighs, and when Iris rocks forward on Quentin I can feel the motion through her body against mine.
God, this is so fucking embarrassing. I use my hand to spread the slick between her cheeks, pressing one finger into her slowly, then two, giving her time to adjust while she's already full of Quentin. Her breath hitches, her back arching forward as Quentin's grip on her waist tightens.
"Okay?" I ask, my voice rougher than I expect.
"More," she says.
I line up and push in slowly, the slick making the slide easy, and the three of us go still at the same time.
Iris' mouth falls open, a sound leaving her that's deeper than anything I've heard from her before, something that starts in her chest and vibrates through all of us.
Quentin's head drops back against the pillows, his jaw clenched, a vein standing out in his neck.
"Don't move yet," Iris breathes. "Just... give me a second."
We hold there, the three of us connected, breathing together. Then Iris rolls her hips, just once, testing it, and the sensation is so intense my vision goes spotty.
It takes us a minute to find the rhythm.
There's fumbling, adjustments, and a moment where my knee slips on the blankets and Iris has to reach back and grab my hip to steady me.
Quentin shifts his angle and Iris gasps so sharply he freezes until she tells him to keep going.
I match his pace from behind, finding the counterpoint, and when the rhythm finally locks into place the sound Iris makes is worth every awkward second it took to get here.
Unfortunately, my stupid Omega biology has me coming hard and fast, so hard my hips stutter, my forehead dropping against Iris' shoulder blade, a broken groan muffled against her skin.
But I don't stop. I fuck through it, my cock oversensitive and throbbing, the mixture of slick and cum easing every stroke, the continued pressure making Iris cry.
The second orgasm builds before the first one fully fades, stacking on top of it, and when it breaks I lose track of my limbs entirely. My arms wrap around Iris' waist, holding on because my body has stopped taking directions from my brain and is operating on pure instinct.
Iris falls apart between us, her whole body locking tight, and that's when Quentin's composure finally shatters.
"Jesus Christ." His voice comes out ragged, his hips jerking up into her, sending another shudder through me.
"It feels like you're going to squeeze my dick off.
" His head presses back into the pillow, his eyes squeezed shut. "Fuck, that feels good."
"That's my lock," Iris manages, her voice wrecked, her body still pulsing around both of us. "It usually only activates with an Omega but I guess..." She trails off into a moan as Quentin rolls his hips beneath her. "I guess it happens now too."
I pull back carefully, my body spent, collapsing sideways into the blankets.
Quentin doesn't waste a second. He flips Iris onto her back, and drives into her with a pace that makes the whole nest shift.
Iris' legs wrap around his waist, her nails raking down his back, and the sounds coming from both of them are loud enough that I briefly consider whether her neighbors are going to file a noise complaint.
Quentin comes with his face buried in her neck, a groan tearing out of him that I feel in my own chest, his hips snapping forward one final time before his whole body goes rigid.
He stays there for a long moment, breathing hard against her throat, before he lifts his head and stares down at her with an expression I've never seen on my brother's face.
"Yeah," he says, his voice completely destroyed. "We're doing that again."
Iris laughs beneath him. "Give me twenty minutes."
"Fuck." He rolls off of her and onto his back, one arm thrown over his eyes. "I think I'm going to pass out."
"Drama queen," I mumble from my pile of blankets.
"You came twice and then fell over, Milo. You don't get to call anyone a drama queen."
"I came twice because I'm talented and generous."
Iris pulls us both closer, her arms reaching in either direction, gathering us against her sides.
"This is the best outcome I could have imagined," I mumble against her skin, the words going soft at the edges.
Quentin's voice comes from her other side. "Don't jinx it."
A warm laugh comes from Iris, our Alpha, as she tightens her arm around me. "Too late. You're stuck with me now."