23. Harmony Circle of Two
Chapter twenty-three
Harmony Circle of Two
Cass
Everything was quiet after Dante and Orion left.
Cass stood where Riot had guided him, trying to breathe through the cramping, trying not to think about the wetness and his shaking legs and if he smelled terrible.
“I should probably...” He gestured vaguely toward the bathroom. “Clean up. I’m kind of...”
Messy. Everywhere. All the time now.
Riot’s nostrils flared—so yes, he could smell it too. All of it. But his voice was gentle when he said, “Take your time, princess. I’ll be right here.”
Cass closed the door to the bathroom and slumped against it, pressing his palms to his hot cheeks.
He couldn’t believe he’d told them about the spot inside.
Just announced it. To people he’d met yesterday.
Riot’s face had gone red, and Orion had buried his face in his hands, and Cass still wasn’t entirely sure what he’d done wrong.
Sharing experiences was how everyone learned, right?
Harmony circles were for exactly that, as long as the things shared weren’t courses not everyone had taken yet.
But apparently that was another thing that worked differently outside.
He caught sight of himself in the mirror and went still.
Without the beads and braids, his hair hung loose around his shoulders, wavy and wild. He’d been wearing it free since then, but he hadn’t really looked. There’d always been something more urgent happening.
Now he looked.
His lips were different. Fuller, maybe. Bitten.
And there was a darkening bruise on his shoulder where Riot’s teeth had been.
He touched it gently, remembering the pressure, the sharp feeling that had traveled all the way down his spine and settled low.
The bruise didn’t look anything like the circular scars underneath the shirt.
Those were precise. Symmetrical. Made with a tool designed for that purpose.
This was messy and uneven and it had come from Riot’s mouth, which was a strange thing to think about.
He didn’t mind it.
He’d never thought much about his scars before.
They were just part of life at Springfield Gardens, something that happened when Brother Matthias decided it was time, explained afterward with words about divine light filling the spaces left behind.
But the bruise from Riot’s mouth looked different from those circles the same way wild prairie flowers looked different from the regulated gardens at Elysian.
He wasn’t sure what to do with that thought, so he let it go.
Then he noticed the marks on the backs of his thighs. Finger-shaped bruises from where Riot had gripped him in the stairwell, and again right here—on this floor—
His bare feet were on the same tile.
The bathroom. This bathroom. Riot on top of him, pressing forward, and the feeling of him, blunt and insistent and impossibly, terrifyingly big.
His body had tried to open for it, some deep instinct overriding the panic, and for one awful moment Cass felt the stretch begin and had known with absolute certainty that it couldn’t fit, it was going to tear him apart…
Cass gripped the edge of the sink and breathed. He was standing in the exact place where it happened and his body knew it before his mind caught up, his skin prickling, his pulse jumping, that specific tightness in his chest that meant this is where the good part turned into the scary part.
That was scary.
It had been. Really scary. Not the chase—the chase had been electric, the best feeling since the first time Riot’s fingers found that spot inside him.
And not the fingers, or the orgasm, or even the way Riot’s voice went dark and commanding when he talked about everything he wanted.
Those were good. Those were so good that his body still got warm thinking about them.
But that part with Riot’s body against his, the size of what was pressing into him, and the way his own voice saying please hadn’t been enough to stop it until he’d raised his voice…that sent him somewhere panicky and small.
And the confusing thing that kept circling back like a cramp that wouldn’t fully release was that being scared of Riot felt wrong.
Not wrong like breaking a rule. Wrong like wearing someone else’s robes.
Because Riot was the person who rubbed his back and stroked his hair during cramps without being asked, who said there was nothing wrong with his body like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Riot was the first person who had ever made Cass’s body feel like it belonged to him instead of to a community.
But Riot had also pressed him against this same cold floor—
He let go of the sink.
The things before were good. That part was scary. I want the good parts back.
His body wanted them back right now, actually.
The ache was getting worse again, deeper and more specific, centered in the place where Riot’s fingers had been.
His body learned what helped and now it wanted more of it and it didn’t care that the bathroom tile was making his skin crawl.
Except his body kept doing the wanting and the scared at the same time and he didn’t know how to make them take turns.
He grabbed the remaining toilet paper and tried to clean up. It just kept coming, his body producing it faster than he could wipe it away. He used more paper. Then more. The roll was nearly empty.
How do other Omegas deal with this?
He gave up on the toilet paper and looked at himself one last time.
The person in the mirror didn’t look like anyone Brother Matthias would recognize. Or Honey for that matter.
I don’t know who that is yet…but I think I want to find out.
When Cass opened the bathroom door, he watched Riot’s pupils dilate as he asked, “Better?”
“I used most of the toilet paper,” Cass admitted. “Trying to... it just kept...it didn’t really help.”
“That’s normal. You can’t really stop it, princess. You just have to ride it out.”
“Oh.” Cass processed this. “That seems really inconvenient.”
Riot’s mouth twitched. “It is.”
A cramping sensation made Cass wince, pressing a hand to his stomach as it intensified; he gasped, doubling over. “It’s very…very inconvenient.”
“Cass—”
Tears welled in his eyes before he could stop them and his legs shook with the effort of keeping himself upright, but then Riot was there, warm and solid, catching him before his knees gave. “I’ve got you. Come here.”
Strong arms guided him to the bed. Somehow Cass ended up settled against Riot’s chest, tucked between his legs with his back pressed to all that warmth. Riot’s heartbeat was steady against his spine as another wave of pain rolled through him.
“Breathe, princess.” Riot’s hand was between them, already rubbing firm circles on Cass’s lower back, pressing into the muscles. “That’s it. Just breathe through it.”
Cass tried. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.
The cramping eased, then the shivers hit, his whole body shaking despite the heat under his skin.
Riot pulled the blanket up around his shoulders without a word.
His other hand never stopped rubbing. He kept murmuring soft, gentle things even as Cass’s ears struggled to translate them into coherent words over the noise in his body.
The shivers faded. Then a flush of burning heat replaced them, and Cass kicked the blanket off desperately.
Riot started waving his hand near Cass’s face to create a breeze.
How does he always know?
At home, if he was sick, he meditated more.
Fasted more. The healers had their remedies and rituals and dietary protocols, and none of them involved another person just..
. adjusting to his needs. Moment by moment.
Blanket on, blanket off. Pressure here, gentle there.
Like paying attention to someone’s comfort was just something someone did without having to be told.
“Honey was really good at taking care of people,” Cass said. The words tumbled out the way they sometimes did—connected to what he was feeling, even if the connection wasn’t obvious. Riot’s hand kept stroking his hair. He didn’t ask why Cass was talking about this. He just listened.
“When she did her mission to the same sector of the Neutral Zone I got sent to, she recruited someone on her second day. Because she’s smart and she actually understands what people need to hear—” Cass bit off a whimper as his insides knotted up again.
“She made a friend there too. A, um, perfume vendor at one of the market stalls. Honey said she was kind. She…she gave her samples.”
“That sounds nice,” Riot said.
“Honey snuck some samples back in her hair and kept them hidden in her room. She said they reminded her that there were nice people outside of Elysian.” Cass blinked.
There were tears on his cheeks again—they kept doing that, leaking out without warning.
“She used to take care of me when I was sad. She wasn’t supposed to.
Individual comfort sessions were supposed to go through your assigned guide, but she always knew when I was sad before I did. ”
“That sounds lonely.”
“I didn’t know it was lonely until I left.” The words surprised him. He turned them over in his head, trying to figure out where they’d come from. They sat in silence for a while, and Riot’s hands kept moving—kneading circles into his back when Cass tensed and stroking when he relaxed.
“Can I ask you something?” Cass said.
“Always, princess.”
“Your name. Riot.” He traced a pattern on Riot’s arm with one finger, feeling the warmth of his skin. “It doesn’t sound like a real name.”
Riot’s breathing changed, but his hand didn’t stop. “It’s not. It’s a code name. All of us Endeavor survivors use them.”
“The program that made you scary.” Cass remembered. “Lilac said it changed both of you.”
“It did.”