Chapter 69 Tristan #2
What followed was hours of exquisite torture—taking her to the edge repeatedly, each of us claiming her in different ways, sometimes together, sometimes watching. Unlike our frantic coupling at the arena, this was slow and careful, a relearning of her body and her limits.
I directed much of it, finding a new confidence in the role. Alek provided the steady, firm hand she craved while Cole delivered the sharp pain and degradation that made her soar. Between the three of us, we built her up and broke her down repeatedly, each orgasm more intense than the last.
By the time we finally allowed ourselves release, Eva was floating in subspace, her body liquid and pliant, marked not just with our earlier claiming but with fresh evidence of our possession—rope marks around her wrists and ankles, the imprint of Alek’s hand on her ass, thin red lines from Cole’s crop across her thighs, and my bite marks refreshed along her shoulders.
The aftercare was as thorough as the scene itself. We cleaned her gently, applied salve to the marks we wanted to keep, wrapped her in soft blankets, and tucked her between us in Alek’s massive bed.
“Mine,” she breathed sleepily, one hand finding mine, the other reaching for Cole while her head rested on Alek’s chest. “All mine.”
“Yours,” I agreed, pressing a kiss to her palm. “Always.”
As she drifted off to sleep, the three of us exchanged glances over her head, a silent vow passing between us. Whatever came next, we would face it together.
The light of dawn filtered through the blinds, painting stripes across Eva’s sleeping form. I’d been awake for an hour, just watching her breathe, cataloging the marks we’d left on her body with pride and tenderness.
Cole stirred on her other side, his eyes finding mine across the expanse of rumpled sheets. For once, there was no sarcasm in his gaze, just a raw honesty that made him look younger, more vulnerable.
“So fucking lucky,” he mouthed, careful not to wake her.
I nodded, understanding completely what he meant. Lucky that she’d come back to us. Lucky that we’d been given another chance.
I could smell coffee brewing and hear the quiet clink of pans in the kitchen. Alek was already up.
Eva’s eyes fluttered open, immediately finding mine. “Morning,” she murmured, her voice scratchy from overuse.
“Morning, beautiful,” I replied, brushing hair from her face. “How do you feel?”
She stretched cautiously, wincing slightly as she cataloged various aches. “Like I’m yours,” she said with a small smile, and the pressure in my chest relaxed.
Cole’s arm tightened around her waist. “Good,” he said gruffly. “Because you are.”
The domesticity of the moment struck me again—waking up together as if the weeks of separation had never happened. But they had, and we needed to address what came next.
“Breakfast,” Alek called from the doorway. He’d thrown on sweatpants but remained shirtless, the powerful muscles of his chest and arms on full display. “Come eat.”
I helped Eva find a shirt of mine I’d left here and Cole’s boxers, which swallowed her whole but made her look adorably rumpled. We made our way to Alek’s kitchen, where he’d prepared a feast—eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, pancakes, coffee.
“Feeding an army?” Cole quipped, but he was already loading a plate.
“Feeding my family,” Alek replied simply, the word hanging in the air between us.
Eva’s eyes widened slightly as she settled onto a stool at the kitchen island, a sweet smile brightening her face. I took the seat beside her while Cole perched on her other side. Alek remained standing, leaning against the counter as he sipped his coffee.
For a while, we ate in comfortable silence, the simple pleasure of sharing food after sharing everything else creating a bubble of contentment around us.
But reality couldn’t be held at bay forever.
“I got a call,” I said finally, setting down my fork, “from an Anarchist scout.”
Three pairs of eyes snapped to my face.
“When?” Eva asked, her hand finding mine under the counter.
“Yesterday. Before...” I waved my hand vaguely, encompassing everything that happened at the arena.
“And?” Cole prompted, his expression unreadable.
“They’re interested,” I said. “You know they can’t sign contracts during an NCAA season, but they intend to offer a spot at their development camp next summer, with a real shot at a contract.
” The words felt both exhilarating and terrifying.
Our dream to play in the NHL was suddenly within reach, but graduation was still ahead.
“Boston,” Eva said softly. Not a question, just a statement of fact.
“Boston,” I confirmed. “But I haven’t given them an answer yet.”
Alek set down his mug with deliberate care. “You will accept,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. “This is your chance.”
“What about us?” I gestured between the four of us. “We just found our way back to each other, and now I’m thinking about moving after graduation?”
“We’ll figure it out,” Eva said firmly. “This is your dream, Tristan. You can’t pass it up.”
Cole gave a half-smile. “You beat me to it,” he said. “The scout called me too.”
“The same one?” Eva looked between us, blinking rapidly, her pulse fluttering wildly in her throat. “Both of you?”
“Same team, different scout,” Cole said. “Looks like they decided they wanted the package deal.”
Alek rubbed a hand across his jaw, a faint flush spreading across his cheeks. “They offered me an assistant coaching position.”
“What?” Eva’s eyes widened further. “You too?”
“It’s—” He stopped, smiling at the two of us, as if he knew something we didn’t. “It didn’t matter before. It does now. They liked how I’ve been working with the team here, and the owner—” he grinned. “The owner knows Nikolai.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Seriously? They want all of us?”
He nodded. “Starting next fall, after graduation.”
“So you could all be in Boston after graduation,” Eva said slowly, the implications sinking in.
“What about you?” I asked her. “Your med school applications?”
She bit her lip then broke into a grin. “Boston University offered me a scholarship.”
But Cole wasn’t smiling.
“What?” he said defensively when the silence stretched too long. “I’ve already said my piece about the scout.”
“Cole,” Eva said, placing her hand on his arm.
He sighed, dropping the mangled napkin. “I’ve liquidated my shares in the business, but my father left a fucking mess. It’s going to take months to straighten out our personal finances.”
“Why do you have to do it?” Eva asked. Cole looked at her like she was a fucking idiot, but before I could growl my defense of her, she continued, “Just because it’s yours? When has that stopped you from doing whatever the fuck you wanted? Are you still fabulously wealthy?”
“Yes,” he said, looking at her, his face carefully blank.
“Why can’t you pay someone else to straighten it out? Hire a fucking accountant and a lawyer. Your father’s dead—you don’t have to do anything his way anymore.”
Cole blinked.
And then he blinked again, and he burst out into laughter. “Fuck, Eva, I love you.”
The implications hung in the air between us. All of us, potentially able to converge on Boston after graduation. It seemed too perfect, too convenient.
“So we could make this work,” Eva said carefully, “even with everything ahead of us.”
“It would be complicated,” I cautioned, not wanting to get ahead of ourselves. “Training schedule, your med school workload.”
“When has anything with us ever been simple?” Cole pointed out.
Alek set down his coffee mug with finality. “We will make it work,” he stated, as if by his command alone, the universe would bend to accommodate us.
The tightness in my chest since the accident finally loosened. We had challenges ahead, but the core of what we were—this strange, beautiful connection between four broken, slowly healing people—remained solid.
“So we’re doing this?” I asked, looking at each of them in turn. “For real this time? Get through graduation and go to Boston?”
“All in,” Eva confirmed, her smile lighting up her entire face despite the bruises still visible on her throat.
“All in,” Cole echoed, his usual sarcasm absent.
“Yes,” Alek said simply.
Under the table, our hands found each other’s—a tangle of fingers, a silent promise. Whatever came next, we would face it together. Not perfect, not conventional, but ours.
And that was enough.