17. Motley
CHAPTER 17
MOTLEY
I hate conference calls. Fucking hate them. Especially when Dez is on the other end looking like the cat that ate the canary, his smug face filling my screen while I'm forced to sit still like some kind of trained poodle. My knee bounces under the table as I fight the urge to pace.
"So, Freeya's been on my ass," Dez says, leaning back in his leather chair. "Charlotte has talked to her recently, but she wants more updates. I told her she’s already had a proof of life call but I only got an eye roll for that. I mean, I have a Beta to keep happy here, boys.” He laughs at his own joke, and I want to reach through the screen and rip his throat out. Okay, I don't want to hurt my former boss, nope, not all, I just hate sitting here talking about bullshit that doesn't concern me. "Yeah, well, Mercy and Faith have been even worse," he continues. "I've spent two weeks talking them down. They're ready to hop on a plane and storm your compound."
Teagan chuckles beside me, all cool and collected. "Tell them Charlotte's fine. She'll check in again soon."
"She better," Dez warns, but there's no heat behind it.
I tune them out as they start discussing logistics. Charlotte had therapy with Dr. Monroe today, the same shrink who'd tried to untangle the mess in my head when I first got stateside. Those sessions leave you raw, like someone's peeled back your skin and poked at everything tender underneath.
Moses is with her now. It's his turn, his day to provide comfort, and I'm trying not to be a jealous prick about it. Sharing has never been my strong suit but for Charlotte, I'm doing my fucking best. Deacon's got a gentle touch beneath his own mountain of religious baggage, he'll give her exactly what she needs after Monroe's ripped open her wounds.
Still, something feels off. Has all morning. Like an itch under my skin I can't scratch.
"Joker, you got those surveillance reports?" Teagan asks, pulling me back to the call .
Josiah nods, fingers flying across his keyboard. "Sending them now. Also ordered some more supplies for. . ." He obviously doesn’t want to say it in front of Dez.
The nest. The fucking nest he's been building like some deranged interior decorator on speed. He took one of the larger guest bedrooms and turned it into what I can only describe as an Omega heaven—plush blankets, pillows in every size and shape, temperature controls, and a goddamn mini-kitchen stocked with water and snacks. All based on his meticulous research about optimal Omega comfort.
We've all noticed the subtle shifts in Charlotte's scent this week. Sweeter, headier—her honey and cinnamon fragrance taking on new depths, that hint of firewood burning hotter. But Teagan ordered us not to mention it, not wanting to trigger her anxiety. So, we've all been dancing around it like idiots, pretending not to notice while our bodies react.
Josiah's nesting instincts kicked in first, typical for a Beta with his nurturing tendencies. My response has been less constructive. More along the lines of wanting to fuck her through the mattress, mark her, claim her. Lock her away from the rest of the world. Even from my brothers.
A groan cuts through the house, low, pained, and everything in me freezes. That sound I know that sound. My cock instantly hardens and that's the last thing I need. Down boy!
Before I can move, Moses’ voice booms, panic edging his usually controlled tone:
"ALL HANDS ON DECK!"
I'm out of my chair before the words fully register, knocking it backward. Teagan's already on his feet, ending the call with Dez mid-sentence.
"Fuck," I breathe, the word a prayer and a curse combined.
Josiah's eyes are wide, his pupils blown. "Is she?"
"She's in heat," Teagan confirms what we all know, his voice rough with restraint. "We knew it was coming."
The three of us bolt for the hallway, instinct overriding reason. Charlotte's scent hits me halfway down—no longer subtle but a fucking sledgehammer of pheromones that makes my vision blur at the edges. Honey and cinnamon and fire, so much fire.
Moses meets us at the top of the stairs, his massive frame filling the hallway. Charlotte's curled against his chest like a wounded animal, her face flushed and damp with sweat. Her eyes find mine through the haze of her pain–wild, panicked, beautiful .
"She collapsed in the elevator," Moses pants, his usually calm demeanor fractured. The scent of incense clinging to him is almost completely overtaken by Charlotte's heat. "One minute we were kissing, the next?—"
I don't let him finish. My arms are already reaching for her, and Moses hesitates only a fraction of a second before surrendering her to me. A growl vibrates in his chest, instinct fighting reason, but he steps back. Smart man.
Charlotte feels like fire against my skin, her body trembling and slick with sweat. The honey-cinnamon-firewood cocktail of her scent wraps around my brain, shorting out rational thought. I spin away from my brothers, not giving two fucks if they're offended. My Little Harlequin needs me.
"Beaux," she whimpers, clutching my t-shirt. The fabric bunches between her fingers as another wave hits her, making her back arch. "Oh God?—"
I'm already moving down the hall toward Josiah's masterpiece, my steps quick but steady. Behind me I hear Teagan giving orders, something about ice packs and hydration, but his voice sounds underwater. Everything that isn't Charlotte feels distant, unimportant.
"Please, Beaux," she cries against my neck, her lips brushing my skin and sending electricity down my spine. "We didn't get to talk. This can't be happening yet. I'm not ready."
Her fear cuts through my haze. Right. We've tiptoed around this topic and I know none of us wanted her to have to recall what happened to her in the arms of her captors. Fuck! What I would give to be able to go back and skin them all alive for what they did to her.
I kick open the door to the nest room with my foot, and even through my Charlotte-induced delirium, I have to admit Joker outdid himself. The space looks like something out of a luxury spa designed exclusively for Omegas–dimmed lighting, temperature controls showing a perfect 72 degrees, and a bed that's more cloud than mattress. Pillows and blankets crafted from the softest materials form a perfect hollow in the center, just waiting for her.
"I got you, baby," I murmur, gently laying her down. She whines at the loss of contact, reaching for me again. "We'll take care of you."
"It hurts," she gasps, her body curling in on itself. "It wasn't supposed to hit this fast. Dr. Monroe?—"
"Fuck Dr. Monroe," I grunt, stripping off my shirt and tossing it aside. My skin feels too tight, my Alpha instincts screaming to claim, to mark, to possess. But beneath that primal urge is something deeper, the need to protect her, comfort her.
I crawl into the nest beside her, pulling her against my bare chest. She burrows into me instantly, seeking the cooling effect of my skin against her fever. "We'll get you through this," I promise, stroking her back. "All of us."
Teagan appears in the doorway, his face a mask of control that doesn't match the wildness in his eyes. Josiah hovers behind him with a pile of water bottles in his arms. Moses stands further back, his fists clenched at his sides.
"My brothers and I won't hurt you," I whisper into Charlotte's hair. "Nobody touches you unless you say so. You understand me? You're in charge, Harley. You're in charge."
She looks up at me through tear-spiked lashes, surprise breaking through her pain. "Harley?"
I wipe a tear from her cheek with my thumb. "My Harlequin. Beautiful, unpredictable, dangerous." I kiss her forehead, tasting salt. "And absolutely in control."
Another spasm rocks through her, and she clings tighter. "I don't feel in control."
"You are," I insist, catching Teagan's eye over her head. He nods, understanding our unspoken pact. " This room is yours. We come and go at your command. Need water? Say so. Need space? Say so. Need to be fucked until you can't remember your own name?" I can't help the growl that escapes. "You just say the word, baby."
Charlotte's laugh is shaky, but it's there. "That simple, huh?"
"That simple." I brush damp curls from her forehead. "No Alpha bullshit. No pack hierarchy. Just us taking care of our Omega however she needs."
"I need—" She breaks off as another wave crashes through her, this one stronger than before. Her nails dig into my arms, leaving half-moon indentations that I hope will scar. "I need you all to stay. Please."
The others move into the room at her invitation, each finding their place in the nest. Teagan settles behind her, pulling her between his legs, wrapping his arms around her waist as I settle at their side. Josiah arranges himself at her feet, already massaging her ankles with knowing fingers. Moses kneels beside the bed, offering a straw-tipped water bottle to her lips.
"Drink," he urges, his deep voice gentle. "You'll dehydrate fast."
I nestle in closer into her and Teagan while she sips, my chest swelling with something that feels dangerously close to pride. My pack. My Omega. My family.
"Whatever happens next," I tell her, leaning up on my elbow to press a quick kiss to her cheek, "we've got you."
Charlotte's scent transforms the air around us into something thick and intoxicating. The nest reeks of need—her honey-cinnamon pheromones mixing with our collective Alpha and Beta bouquet—whiskey, leather, incense and rain. Chemistry at its most primal.
I watch her throat work as she swallows water from Moses’ offered bottle. A single droplet escapes the corner of her mouth, tracking a glistening path down her neck. Every muscle in my body tightens.
"Better?" Moses asks, his voice gravel-rough.
Charlotte nods against Teagan's chest, but the movement looks painful—jerky and uncoordinated. Her eyes are unfocused, pupils blown wide, skin flushed deep bronze. The rational part of our omega is losing ground with each passing minute.
"More," she whispers, and none of us knows if she means water or something else entirely.
Josiah's hands work steady patterns up her calves, his face a mask of concentration. "Your muscles are seizing," he murmurs. "The hormone surge is causing micro-contractions."
Leave it to Joker to turn even this into a fucking science class. But his hands know what they're doing and Charlotte sighs as he works the knots from her legs.
"Talk to me, Little Harlequin," I say, brushing sweaty curls from her face. "Tell me what you need."
Her eyes lock onto mine, suddenly clearer. "I need to not be so fucking hot."
A ragged laugh escapes me. Even in the throes of heat, my girl's got fight.
"Then let's get these clothes off you." I tug at the hem of her sweat-soaked t-shirt, raising an eyebrow in question. Always her choice.
She doesn't hesitate, arching forward to help. Teagan supports her back as I sit up to peel the damp fabric up and over her head. Her bra follows—simple black cotton that looks like heaven against her skin.
"Jesus," I breathe. Her breasts are full, nipples dark and tight, begging for attention. My mouth waters.
"All of it," she demands, already pushing at her yoga pants. "Please."
Four pairs of hands move at once, each of us claiming territory. Moses works her pants down while Josiah removes her socks. Teagan unclasps her necklace with careful fingers, setting it safely aside. I hover near her face, drinking in every expression crossing her beautiful features as she's slowly unwrapped.
When she's naked before us, Charlotte doesn't shrink away. Instead, she stretches out like a queen surveying her domain, knowing damn well we're all moments from falling at her feet.
"Better," she sighs, then winces as another wave hits her. Her thighs press together, seeking friction, and the movement releases a fresh wave of her scent. Slick glistens between her legs, and my cock strains painfully against my jeans.
"Christ, Char," Teagan groans, pressing his face to her shoulder. "You're killing us."
"Good," she manages through gritted teeth. "Then I won't die alone."
We laugh, the tension breaking for a heartbeat before rebuilding stronger. Her hand finds mine, squeezing hard enough to hurt.
"What now?" Josiah asks, always the practical one, though his voice has gone liquid with desire.
Charlotte's gaze drifts over each of us, unhurried despite her pain. Making her choice. When her eyes return to mine, I already know .
"Motley first, I don't want to feel overwhelmed" she says through panting breaths, using my callsign like a fucking weapon. That girl knows what it does to me, hearing it from her lips.
Moses and Josiah move back, giving us space without leaving the nest. Teagan starts to shift away, but Charlotte clutches his arm. "Stay," she orders, then looks up at him. "Hold me."
I strip in record time, not giving a single fuck about finesse. My clothes join hers on the floor, and I'm naked, cock jutting proudly toward her like it's found magnetic north.
Charlotte turns in Teagan's arms to face me, still cradled between his thighs. She reaches for me, and I crawl to her on all fours, predatory, unable to disguise the animal she awakens.
"Beaux," she whispers as I hover over her. Her hands trace the tattoos covering my chest—angels, demons, dragons. "I need you."
Three simple words that break whatever restraint I had left.
I crush my mouth to hers, swallowing her gasp. She tastes like fire and home and something I've been chasing my entire fucking life. Her tongue meets mine, eager and demanding, no submissive omega bullshit here. My Harlequin fights for what she wants .
And right now, she wants me.
I drag my lips down her neck, her collarbone, her sternum. When I reach her breasts, I take my time, circling each nipple with my tongue before drawing it into my mouth. She arches, a sound between a moan and a sob tearing from her throat. Behind her, Teagan strokes her arms, murmuring encouragement, pressing occasional kisses to her shoulders.
"Please," she begs, spreading her thighs wider. "No more teasing."
I glance up, meeting her gaze. "You sure about this, baby? All of us?"
She nods, desperation clear in every line of her body. "I've never been more sure of anything."
"Then hold on." I position myself between her legs, the head of my cock sliding through her slick folds. The sensation nearly blinds me, hot, wet silk that my body recognizes as my home. I notch against her entrance, watching her face. "Eyes on me, little Harlequin."
Her gaze locks with mine as I push forward, filling her in one long, steady stroke. Her body yields to mine, taking me to the hilt, and we both cry out at the completion. Behind her, Teagan stiffens, feeling her reaction through her back pressed to his chest .
"That's it," I growl, holding still to let her adjust. "So fucking perfect."
She whimpers, rolling her hips, already seeking more. "Move, Beaux. Please move."
I obey, pulling back before driving in again. Setting a rhythm that matches her shallow breathing. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure up my spine, my Alpha instincts screaming with satisfaction at being first, at claiming this territory.
But this isn't about territory, it's about Charlotte.
Her hands claw at my shoulders, urging me deeper, harder. I give her what she needs, letting the gentle start build into something more primal. Our bodies slap together, the sound mixing with her moans and my grunts.
"Yes," she pants, her head falling back against Teagan's shoulder. "Just like that. Don't stop."
As if I could. As if anything in this world could drag me from her heat. I feel her tightening around me, her inner walls clenching as her first orgasm approaches. I slide a hand between us, finding her clit with practiced fingers, circling the swollen nub.
"Cum for me," I command, voice rough with need. "Cum on my cock, Harley."
She shatters beautifully, her back arching off Teagan's chest, a cry tearing from her throat that sounds like my name and a prayer combined. Her pussy grips me in pulsing waves, trying to milk my release. But I'm not ready, not yet.
I work her through it, slowing my thrusts but not stopping, prolonging the pleasure until she's boneless and gasping.
"Good girl," I praise, pressing a kiss to her sweaty forehead. "So fucking beautiful when you cum."
She smiles up at me, dazed and still hungry. "More."
"Greedy little thing." I laugh, but I'm already moving again, building another climb.
Teagan's hands come around to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing her sensitive nipples. She moans at the dual sensation, her body caught between us, treasured and worshipped.
"Can I taste?" Teagan asks, his voice strained with need.
Charlotte nods, turning her head to meet his lips. Their kiss is deep and sensual, a counterpoint to my increasingly rough thrusts. The sight of them together, my pack Alpha and my Omega, only spurs me on, sending me over the edge.
"Look at you," I groan, watching them. "Taking us so well."
She breaks from Teagan's kiss to look at me, her eyes now glassy with pleasure. "More," she demands again. "All of you."
Josiah appears at her side, running gentle fingers over her collarbone, down to where Teagan cups her breast. "May I?"
At her nod, he lowers his head to her nipple, sucking the tight bud into his mouth. The new sensation makes her clench around me again, and I curse, feeling my control slipping.
"That's it," I encourage, watching our Beta worship her breast while I continue to pound into her. "Take what you need, baby."
Moses moves to her other side, his massive hand spanning her entire rib cage. "Charlotte," he breathes her name like a sacrament. "Please."
She turns her face to him, offering her mouth. Their kiss is different from hers and Teagan's—reverent, almost worshipful. Moses, our resident holy man, treating her like his salvation.
I'm surrounded by the sight, the sound, the smell of my pack pleasuring our Omega. It's primal and beautiful and so fucking right that I can't hold back any longer.
"I'm going to fill you," I warn, feeling the familiar tightening at the base of my spine. "Going to knot you first, Charlotte, mark you from the inside. "
"Yes," Charlotte gasps between kisses. "Give it to me, Beaux. I need it."
My hips stutter as I drive into her one final time, my orgasm crashing through me with brain-melting intensity. I roar her name as I empty inside her, claiming her in the most ancient way possible. My vision whitens at the edges, pleasure so intense it borders on pain as I push in hard, my knot clutching her walls.
She comes with me, triggered by the flood of my seed, her second orgasm even stronger than the first. She screams, the sound muffled against Moses’ mouth, her body convulsing between our hands and mouths.
For a moment, we're frozen in that perfect tableau—five people moving as one unit, breathing the same air, sharing the same pleasure.
Then I collapse forward, catching my weight on shaking arms to avoid crushing her. "Fuck." I pant heavily, pressing my forehead to hers. "Holy fuck."
She laughs, breathless and beautiful. "That was just round one."
We lay there for a few moments until my knot deflates, as if it knows it has to share. Before I can respond, she reaches for Moses, pulling away from Teagan's chest. "You next," she says, leaving no room for argument. "I need to feel all of you."
Moses’ eyes darken to near-black, his control visibly slipping. "Charlotte, are you?—"
"Now!" she insists. I pull out of her gently as we all maneuver around the giant monstrosity of a bed. Charlotte moves to her hands and knees. The position presents her ass to him, her pussy still dripping with my release. "Please, Moses. I need it."
I roll to the side, not going far, content to watch as Moses takes my place. His massive cock makes my mouth dry, the man is hung like a fucking God.
"Easy," I caution him, suddenly protective despite knowing he'd die before hurting her.
Moses nods, positioning himself behind her. His hands, so large they span her hips completely, steady her as he presses forward. Charlotte's eyes flutter closed at the new stretch, a sound between pleasure and pain escaping her lips.
"Breathe," Moses instructs, his voice hypnotic in its deepness. "Just breathe, sweet one."
She does, relaxing as he works his way inside, inch by careful inch. It's a beautiful sight, her bronze skin against his lighter brown, the contrast of his massive frame covering her smaller one .
"So much," she gasps, but pushes back against him, taking more. "So full."
Josiah moves to support her from below, sliding under her so she can rest her weight on his chest. His hands continue their magic on her breasts, keeping her pleasure high while she adjusts to Moses’ size.
Teagan and I flank them, touching whatever skin we can reach, her arms, her shoulders, the curve of her ass where it meets Moses’ hips. We murmur encouragement, praise, filthy promises of what's to come.
"That's it," I whisper as Moses finally seats himself fully inside her. "Take him, baby. Show him that perfect pussy."
She moans at my words, her hips rolling back. Moses groans, his usual composure fractured by pleasure. "Charlotte," he breathily says. "You feel like heaven."
"Move!" she commands, her voice stronger now. "I can take it. I want it hard."
Moses’ control snaps. His hips draw back before slamming forward, the force pushing her down against Josiah, who catches her with steady hands. Moses sets a punishing pace, each thrust powerful enough to rock her entire body.
The room fills with the raw, primal sounds of sex, the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin, the slick, wet heat of Charlotte's body gripping Moses’ cock, the symphony of moans, curses, and praises that escape our lips like a sacred chant. Charlotte takes it all, her body a testament to desire, demanding more with every ragged breath. She's insatiable, a goddess in the throes of passion, and watching her is like witnessing a divine rite.
Every thrust Moses delivers sends a ripple through her, a wave of pleasure that she rides with an abandon that's both beautiful and terrifying. Her skin glistens with sweat, the scent of her arousal mixing with the musk of our combined releases, creating an intoxicating perfume that fills the air. I can't look away, can't stop myself from reaching out to touch her, to feel the heat of her skin, the tremors that run through her muscles.
She's a revelation, this Omega of ours, a force of nature that has us all ensnared. I've seen men break under less, but here she is, taking everything Moses has to give and begging for more. It's a humbling sight, one that stirs something deep within me, a primal need to claim, to protect, to worship.
"More," she gasps, her voice a husky whisper that cuts through the haze of lust. "Give me more, Moses."
And he does, his hips moving like a piston, driving into her with a force that should be too much, but she takes it, takes him, takes us all. It's a dance, a battle, a prayer, a testament to the power of this thing between us, this bond that's only just beginning to form. And as I watch, as I touch, as I breathe in the scent of her, I know that I'm lost, utterly and completely lost, to this woman, this Omega, who has stolen my heart.
"Yes," she chants, head thrown back, sweat glistening on her skin. "Just like that. Don't stop. Don't ever stop."
As if any of us could. As if we haven't been waiting for this very moment since she walked into our lives, bringing that honey-cinnamon scent that haunts my dreams and waking thoughts. Something wild and possessive unfurls in my chest watching her take Moses like this, not jealousy, but a shared victory. This connection between us transcends anything I've experienced, even with my brothers. Charlotte tears down walls I've built since those early foster homes, the ones that taught me wanting things meant losing them. When she commanded Moses to move, it felt it like a command to my own body. I want to laugh at how thoroughly she owns us already, how completely she's dismantled four men who thought themselves unbreakable .
My Harlequin, my beautiful chaos-bringer, destroying and recreating us with every moan.