27. Lena
Lena
It’s later by the time the room finally settles.
Not calmer, exactly. Just worn down. The kind of tired that flattens everything for a while.
Vale slept most of the day after Knox patched him up, half out of necessity and half because his body clearly stopped asking permission a long time ago.
Knox has been in and out of that stiff, watchful silence of his.
Havoc has paced, joked, gone quiet, then started prowling again whenever the room got too still.
At some point, somebody suggests a movie.
Not because any of us really cares what’s on. Because staring at each other in one motel room starts to feel like a slow form of torture after enough hours.
So now the lights are low, the curtains still shut, and we’re arranged around the room in a way that almost looks normal if you squint hard enough.
Knox in the chair nearest the door. Vale propped up against the headboard with a pillow jammed behind his bad side, one eye still swollen, the other open and clearer than it was earlier.
Havoc spread out like he owns the foot of the bed.
Me cross-legged beside Vale, wrapped in the motel blanket even though the room isn’t cold.
The movie is some forgettable action thing. Loud enough to fill the room. Predictable enough that nobody has to care.
It helps. A little.
Then I need the bathroom.
“I’ll be back,” I say, more out of habit than necessity.
Havoc glances over. “Don’t elope.”
“With who?”
He looks around the room like he’s considering options. “Fair.”
I shake my head and go.
The bathroom light is too bright after the room. I wash my hands, look at myself in the mirror, and don’t linger. My face still looks like mine, which feels almost offensive after the day I’ve had. My hair is a mess. My mouth still remembers too much. My eyes look like I haven’t slept in a week.
Good enough.
When I open the bathroom door again, the first thing I hear is not the movie.
It’s a woman moaning.
I stop dead. For one second, I genuinely think I’m in the wrong universe.
Then I step out fully and see the television.
Porn.
Not subtle porn either. Not something you could maybe pretend was an HBO scene if you were committed enough to denial. Full, obvious porn taking up the whole screen. A woman on all fours, a man behind her, the soundtrack nothing but wet noise and filthy encouragement.
Havoc is grinning. He’s got the remote in one hand and the kind of expression that says he has been waiting specifically for this exact moment.
I stare at him. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
He lifts one shoulder. “The movie was terrible.”
Knox looks like he’s considering murder as a hobby. “Change it back.”
Havoc doesn’t even glance at him. “You’re so repressed it’s making my teeth hurt.”
Vale, who was asleep the last time I looked at him, is now very much awake. His one good eye is open and on me, then on the screen, then back on Havoc with the kind of exhausted disbelief I’m starting to think is his default state around him.
“You did that on purpose,” I say.
Havoc puts a hand to his chest. “Lena. I’m wounded that you’d even ask.”
“You’re wounded by very little.”
“That is true.”
The woman on the television lets out a louder cry and I make the mistake of glancing at the screen again. Bad idea. Immediate bad idea. My face gets hot before I can stop it.
Knox notices. Of course he does. His jaw tightens. “Turn it off.”
Havoc looks at me instead. “Do you want it off?”
I open my mouth.
Nothing useful comes out.
That only makes him happier.
Vale drags a hand over his mouth and says, voice rough with sleep, “You’re twelve.”
“No,” Havoc says. “Twelve-year-olds lack vision.”
I fold my arms. “Your vision is apparently making everyone in this room miserable.”
He tilts his head. “Not everyone.”
I look at him.
He looks right back, lazy and smug. “What?” he says.
“You know what.”
He smiles wider. “I really don’t. You’ll have to be more specific.”
Vale mutters, “He doesn’t need encouragement.”
I glance at him. He looks exhausted and annoyed and more awake than he wants to be. That should probably make me behave.
Instead it gives me an idea.
A stupid one.
A fun one.
I tilt my head at Havoc. “You talk a lot for someone sitting all the way over there.”
His brows lift slightly. “Is that a complaint?”
“It’s an observation.”
“And what would you prefer?”
I let my gaze drag over him on purpose, slow enough that his grin finally changes shape.
“Less talking,” I say.
Havoc leans forward, elbows on his knees now. “Careful.”
Knox looks from him to me and says, very flatly, “Absolutely not.”
I ignore that too.
I shift closer to Vale instead. Not a lot. Just enough to feel him go still beside me.
Havoc notices immediately. “Oh, that’s dirty.”
I turn toward Vale like I haven’t heard him at all.
Vale’s good eye narrows slightly. “Lena.”
The warning in my name only makes me want to do it more.
I put a hand on his chest. Feel the warmth of him through his shirt. The steady rise and fall of his breathing, which is no longer as steady as it was ten seconds ago.
“What?” I ask softly.
“You know what.”
I smile a little. “Apparently that’s going around.”
Havoc laughs under his breath. “I like this version of you.”
“Shocking,” Knox says.
I don’t look away from Vale. He’s watching me now with that tired, careful focus of his, like he knows exactly what game I’m starting and has already decided it’s a bad idea. That doesn’t stop him from putting his hand on my waist when I lean in.
That’s the thing. For all his self-control, for all his warnings and silences and guilt, he always touches me back.
So I kiss him.
Slowly first. Not because I’m unsure. Because I know Havoc is watching and I want him to see it.
I kiss Vale like I have all the time in the world, like I’m not doing anything except enjoying the shape of his mouth and the way he exhales when I part my lips against his.
Then I deepen it by degrees, until Vale’s hand tightens at my waist and his head tips back against the wall.
Havoc goes very quiet.
Good.
I pull back just enough to glance at him. He’s still smiling, but there’s something hungrier there.
“There,” I say softly. “That’s better.”
He laughs once, low and rough. “You little menace.”
I kiss Vale again. This time harder. Less teasing. His fingers slide into my hair and I feel the exact moment he gives up pretending he’s above any of this. That’s what I like about kissing him. He always tastes like restraint right before it breaks.
I climb into his lap carefully because of his ribs, settling my weight where it won’t hurt him more than necessary. He makes a small sound against my mouth, one part protest, two parts wanting.
“Too much?” I murmur.
“No.”
That answer comes too fast.
I smile into the next kiss.
Havoc says, “You’re both extremely rude.”
“Stay mad,” I say without looking at him.
Knox mutters something under his breath that sounds a lot like Jesus Christ.
I slide my mouth down Vale’s throat, kiss the scar near his jaw, then the open collar of his shirt, feeling him tense and loosen under my hands in turns. He’s hard already. I can tell before I touch him, and when I do, through his jeans, the breath leaves him in one rough rush.
“Lena.”
I look up at him through my lashes. “What?”
He knows better than to answer that honestly.
So Havoc does it for him.
“What he means,” Havoc says, voice gone lower now, “is if you keep doing that, neither of us is going to behave.”
I turn my head enough to look at him over my shoulder. “Neither?”
His grin flashes. “I’m choosing optimism.”
That gets me exactly what I wanted. I slide off Vale’s lap and onto my knees on the bed between them, one hand still stroking Vale through his jeans, my body angled just enough that Havoc has a perfect view of everything.
The room feels electric now. Playful still, but only just. Like all of us know where this is going and are letting ourselves enjoy the walk there.
I undo Vale’s belt slowly.
Havoc watches my hands. “Cruel.”
“You started it.”
“No,” he says. “I improved it.”
I free Vale’s cock and wrap my hand around him. He’s thick and hot and already leaking at the tip. The sight of him goes right through me.
Then I look at Havoc again while I stroke Vale once, twice. “Still grinning?” I ask.
“More than ever.”
“Good.”
I bend and take Vale into my mouth, and his whole body tightens.
That first sound he makes is worth everything. Low, wrecked, impossible to fake. I go slowly at first just to drag more of them out, savoring the way he reacts to each pass of my tongue, the way his fingers grip the sheet instead of my hair because he’s still trying, absurdly, to be gentle.
Havoc says nothing now. He just watches.
I pull off long enough to breathe, then glance up at him and ask, “What happened to less talking?”
His laugh comes out frayed. “You are enjoying this far too much.”
“Yes,” I say, and take Vale deeper.
That’s when I feel Knox move behind me. Not suddenly.
Not like he’s claiming anything. Just the shift of his weight as he gets up from the chair and comes closer, drawn in despite himself.
I don’t turn. I can feel him there, all control and tension and the effort of still pretending he isn’t part of this.
I moan around Vale on purpose.
Knox exhales once, sharply.
Havoc catches it and smiles at the side of his mouth. “Well, now.”
I pull off Vale again, lips wet, breathing harder, and look up at Knox over my shoulder. “You can stand there and judge, or you can help.”
Knox goes still for half a second.
Then his hand settles at my waist. Warm. Heavy. Certain.
Not judging.
I smile and turn back to Vale.
From there it gets easier. More fluid. Less about deciding and more about answering whatever the room asks for next.