Chapter 7 #3
Joy came with a long, low wail. Her pussy clamped down so hard I had to fight not to finish instantly. Autumn licked the sweat from Joy’s face, then kissed her again, deeper, slower, as if this time was only for them.
I held back, waiting, watching the two of them melt together, then when the aftershocks slowed, I pulled out.
Autumn rolled me onto my back and pounced, straddling my hips, her mouth on my neck and her hands exploring every inch of my chest and arms. She wanted me again, right then, so I let her take the lead.
She rode me fast, her pussy still dripping, her body clenching and pulsing. She came almost instantly, but kept going, chasing it. Joy lay beside us, hand still between her legs, her face turned to watch every second.
Autumn’s final orgasm hit like a hammer. She convulsed, screaming my name and Joy’s at the same time, then collapsed, boneless and happy, her body draped over mine.
For a minute, all three of us just breathed. The sound of it filled the room. The only other noise was the wind rattling the window and the slow, irregular click of the lantern as the flame guttered low.
Joy curled up at my left, her hand resting on my stomach, head pillowed on my bicep. Autumn pressed tight to my right, her face buried in my shoulder, one arm thrown over my chest to grip Joy’s hand.
The silence stretched out. Nobody spoke.
My heart slowed. I listened to the rhythm of their breathing, the warmth of their bodies, the world outside receding until nothing mattered except this, this moment, this impossible realness of them.
It could have been hours before I moved. When I finally did, it was to stroke their hair, first Joy’s, then Autumn’s, feeling the differences, both soft, but Autumn’s was closer to silk, despite the lack of fancy hair care and conditioners.
Autumn’s breathing evened out. She seemed smaller again, not in size but in presence. Like a part of her was drifting away, even though her body still clung to me.
I stroked her fine, silky hair, running my palm down the length, letting it slip loosely between my fingers. “You okay?” I asked, voice low so I didn’t wake Joy, if she’d drifted off.
Autumn turned her face up, blue eyes so wide they looked like large pools of glass revealing her absolute awareness.
“Mmmm,” she said, holding it as long as her breath would go.
“I am the best, most perfect I have ever been.” She nuzzled back into the spot above my heart. “I don’t want to move. Not ever again.”
I laughed, or tried to. The sound came out shaky, my muscles too tired to do anything but twitch. “That’s new for you.”
“Everything is new,” Autumn replied. She lifted her chin, propping herself up on my chest so she could look at my face. “All of this. All of me. I think this is what being real feels like.”
I started to reply, but she cut me off, her finger pressed flat over my lips.
“I love you, James,” she said.
There was no giggle and no performance in her voice. The words themselves, quiet and so direct, they sucked the air out of my lungs. She’d called me “my humanz” a thousand times, in every size, every mood. But she’d never dropped it completely, not unless she was dead serious.
Joy pressed her face deeper into my side. Her voice floated up from the tangle of hair. “I love you too. Both of you.” She shifted, sliding her hand up my ribs, fingers splayed wide to cover as much skin as possible. “Don’t ever let go.”
“I won’t,” I said. It wasn’t a word I said often, not even to Casey. But it fits here, in this moment.
Autumn’s hand covered Joy’s, trapping it against my chest. She stretched, her whole body vibrating with a tiny, private thrill, then relaxed into a puddle again. “See? We made a wish, and it came true. I didn’t even have to use the dust.”
Joy laughed, but it was soft, like the sound she’d make when stroking a sleeping dog. “You did use the dust. You’re taller than I am. I’d bet you could eat three bowls of soup at dinner, and not even get full.”
Autumn shrugged. “It was mostly for the story. But yes. My appetite is very large now.” She kissed my chest, then nipped at Joy’s hand, and then lay still, content to be trapped in the sandwich.
The lantern flickered, burning low and blue. The wax on the crate pooled, then dripped to the floor in tiny irregular spatters. My blood cooled, but the heat of them stayed, their sweat and sex mixing with the salt air and the old dust of the Casino.
It should have felt like a dream. Three bodies knotted together in a room above a dead city, the world broken so many times that nobody even bothered to keep count. But it didn’t. It felt heavier, real in a way that made my bones ache.
My thoughts tried to go to Casey, Emma, and the ones still on the water.
For a second, my mind flickered to the rigging, the exposed deck, and the wind pushing them toward Newport.
I tasted worry, but let it sit for a breath, then set it down.
There was nothing I could do until dawn.
If Casey needed me, she’d call. If not, I’d launch Horizon at first light and fly to them.
Autumn’s body moved in tiny twitches, little aftershocks that echoed every deep inhale. Joy drifted further toward sleep, her hand slackening, then tightening again when I stroked her arm. They’d keep each other safe, even in dreams.
I wondered, for a second, if I’d done enough. If holding them like this would ever be enough. If the world outside these walls could ever match the heat and weight inside them. But that was a problem for morning.
For now, I let their breathing anchor me, the rise and fall of it lapping my body in warm, slow pulses.
I felt the muscles in my back unwind, my legs go heavy, and the quiet press of Joy’s fingers and Autumn’s lips.
I held them as tight as I could without crushing, and I waited for the lantern to go out, for the wind to shift, for anything that would matter as much as this.
I loved them both, and I said it again, just to make sure.
The words hung in the air, spun once in the blue-shadowed glow, and settled on the three of us as we drifted together, solid and unsinkable for at least one more night.