54 - Haven
HAVEN
It didn’t feel real.
That was the first thought.
Not the heat. Not the hands. Not the way my pulse jumped the second they closed in from all sides.
Just—
This.
The jersey.
My jersey.
The fabric brushed my thighs every time I moved, light and familiar and completely wrong for what was happening — yet at the same time, so totally right.
I hadn’t worn it in years. Not like this.
Not for this.
And definitely not for them.
A shiver rolled through me that had nothing to do with the room.
I was still catching my breath when Ares pulled me back down. Not gently, not rough, but certain. Authoritative.
Like I had no right to be anywhere but exactly where he wanted me.
Where they all wanted me.
God…
The heat came back fast. Faster than it should’ve. Like it had never really gone away — just dipped low enough to breathe before surging back again.
Hands found me.
Everywhere.
Too many to track. Too many to separate.
I tried. I lasted maybe a second.
Then I stopped trying, because it didn’t matter.
That was the thing, really. It didn’t matter who was where. Just that they were.
That I was.
This was happening again, and it wasn’t chaotic anymore — it was something else. Something smoother. Sharper. Like we’d already figured out the rhythm and now we were just… leaning into it.
I gasped as I was pulled forward, then back, then turned — my body shifting between them like it belonged there.
Like I belonged there.
Ares’s mouth was hot, consuming, dragging me under every time he touched me.
Grayson was different — steady, controlled, like he could slow everything down with just one look, one hand at my jaw, one breath against my lips.
And Sebastian…
My God, Sebastian.
He filled in every space between them. Every gap. Every second I wasn’t being held down by one, I was being caught by him.
And he reached places inside me that I didn’t even know I had.
I didn’t have to think. Or choose. Or anything.
A laugh broke from my throat; breathless, wrecked, completely gone, as I was pulled one way, then another.
“Fuck…” I whispered, not even sure who I was talking to.
Maybe all of them. Maybe none.
Maybe even myself, or what used to remain of me before they all got a hold of me.
The jersey rode higher. I felt it.
The brush of air. The contrast. The way it made everything underneath it feel… exposed. Off-limits.
Deliciously dirty.
And that, I think, was the best part of all.
I wasn’t wearing it for me. I was wearing it for them.
My number.
My past.
Everything I used to be—
Reduced to one thin layer of fabric while they took everything else.
My head tipped back, eyes rolling as the heat crested again — too fast, too much, too overwhelming to hold onto.
“Look at her,” someone murmured, the voice low and approving.
I didn’t even know who.
Didn’t care.
I was already gone.
Time became meaningless as I climaxed again and again. Wrapped around Grayson. Riding hard on Sebastian. Bent all the way over by Ares, while clutching the edge of the couch until my fists hurt.
Their voices were low. Broken by heat. Threaded through everything, as I was pulled. Passed. Caught again and turned over to whoever was next.
In the end they took their own pleasures, spending themselves on me. In me. All fucking over me. The heat of it was insane. The sound and the scent of it.
I reveled in it.
Wallowed in the heat of its aftermath.
And begged on my hands and knees for them to do it again.
Eventually we sank to the floor, spent and settled, the house silent around us.
Ares's arm was still draped across my waist. Sebastian lay somewhere close enough that I could feel the rise and fall of his breathing. Grayson’s hand rested lightly on my thigh, just beneath my jersey. Like he wasn’t quite done holding on.
I let my eyes close.
Just for a second.
Just—
A small mechanical whirr cut through the silence. I blinked.
Another whirr.
“…no,” Sebastian mumbled.
My head lifted just enough to see it.
Sir-Cleans-a-Lot. Lighting up. Spinning once.
Then rolling directly toward us, droopy sword extended. Like a judgmental little robot on a grim crusade.
“Oh my GOD—” I choked, scrambling upright.
Pillows flew. Hands slipped. Someone swore.
“CLOTHES!”
Grayson was on his feet first. He began picking up articles of clothing and throwing them at the proper owner. A sock almost flew over Sebastian’s shoulder, but he saved it. Ares took a pair of boxers to the face.
Somewhere outside, a car door slammed. Voices carried.
“Hurry!”
I scrambled to find my thong — then remembered Grayson had picked it up earlier and playfully shot it like a rubber band to the other side of the room. It was too late, anyway. I barely had time to shimmy my jeans over my hips before the sound of the front door opening rang through the empty house.
By the time voices hit the hallway, we were more or less fully decent. Give or take an errant pillow.
That’s when I looked down to find Sir-Cleans-a-Lot, happily chewing on my underwear as it skittered across the floor.
“You really need to see that movie,” Zack said excitedly as he bounced into the room. “It was like a cross between—”
His sentence died as he bumped straight into Ares.
“Hey man!” he lamented, rubbing his face. “Watch where you’re—”
In one smooth motion Grayson snatched up the robot and flipped it over. Sebastian tore my underwear from its whirring clutches, and a second later, it was back on the floor.
“What are you doing to Trash Panda?” Zack asked.
“He got jammed up again,” said Grayson. “Nerf dart.”
“Oh shit, yeah,” Zack nodded. “Foamageddon.”
“Foamageddon?” I repeated.
“Also known as the Reaver’s Annual House Purge,” he nodded briskly. “We had it just before you got here.”
“Oh.”
“We’re still finding darts, all these months later,” Zack pointed in six different directions. “Diesel almost choked on one last week.”
“Diesel?”
“Asher’s Iguana,” said Grayson. “House dinosaur.”
I chuckled.
“Of course.”
Slipping behind me, Sebastian pressed my panties into my hand. I closed my fist around the tiny thong easily.
“Pizza’s here by the way,” Zack added hastily. “Get it now before Caleb eats it all.”
He disappeared the way he came, in the direction of the kitchen, letting us all breathe a sigh of relief.
But I could still feel it. The heat. The pull.
The way they looked at me.
Tomorrow we played.
Tonight—
— we got away with it.