46. Kallis
Kallis
Ineed to be more concerned about the bag I made them pack with all the portable items from my nest. However, having them in a house that’s filled to the brim with the three Bears’ scents makes me settle.
Which said so much that it’s hard to deny what is happening here. Not that I don’t know; I wouldn’t have made love with them in my nest if I didn’t feel safe with them. I don’t even need to lay my things out in any perfect positions for it to feel natural.
“You can change anything you like,” Mathan says. “Not just here, but in the whole house. Artie and I aren’t precious about it, though Orso might get touchy if you mess with his vinyl collection,” Mathan chuckles as he leads me to the bed.
“He likes music?” I ask. Orso enjoying anything beyond hockey and scowling is a stretch.
Even though I already slept in the car, I still want to curl up with him. It’s as if my body knows this heat is going to be different, so I need to build up my energy first.
“Aye, all kinds. He tends to play whatever he’s in the mood for, so we get a lot of hard rock.” Mathan grins.
“That seems apt,” I reply as I bend to climb onto the bed.
My pussy pulses from how hard they’ve fucked me, and my mind is still hazy from being drenched in them.
Fucking them was amazing, but I haven’t experienced having my heart exposed like that to other people, and I don’t know how to handle my newfound vulnerability.
It doesn’t feel like it’s just my body anymore, and that disturbs me more than I like to admit.
I want to be my own person. Letting three people in to that degree could be an even bigger challenge than I ever anticipated.
As soon as I touch the bed, I tumble, my hands and knees instantly sinking into it.
I’m already unsure what it will be like inside the pillow fort. All I saw from the outside was a bright yellow blanket laid on top and the pillows arching over it.
I crawl closer, dipping into it like it’s Jell-O, amused at my own unsteadiness as my limbs disappear into the blanket.
“It’s rather… supple,” I say, wobbling like I did on the ice with them during our late-night practice.
“Isn’t it? I’m not a fan of mattresses, so there are about fifty blankets laid out on top of each other. It’s like sleeping on a cloud.” He lifts a hand, indicating I should continue. “Go on, the best part is inside.”
I crawl through the entrance of the pillow fort, and I can’t deny its coziness.
There’s definitely room for his pack in here, though the scent of wildflowers is the strongest.
His bedroom itself is bathed in soft light, which creeps through the cracks and lines of the pillows and sheet piles that hang in mismatched patterns.
That isn’t the only thing that steals my attention. As I twist to sit down and sink even further into the blankets, my breath catches at the sight above me.
Hundreds of Polaroids are pinned into the fabric, so many I can’t take them all in. They are like stars scattered across a rippling sky, capturing so many moments of love between his pack.
The more worn ones are of a young Orso or Mathan, or both together.
Candid shots of Orso’s seriousness, or where Orso smiles at the camera with a look of love that makes my heart clench, and every photo of the pair of them is filled with laughter and adoration.
As my gaze travels from left to right, Artie begins to appear.
Just one or two photos at first, until the entire right side is filled with the three of them.
“Most people keep photos on the walls,” I say, drinking them in as he crawls after me and hovers.
“But this way I get to see them every day,” he hums, kissing the tip of my nose.
I sigh as he gives me space to admire the photos, lifting my finger to trace one of Orso’s passionate smiles as he licks an ice cream in the sun, or Mathan’s long, shaggy hair while he plays an acoustic guitar, and a grinning Artie in a bright yellow leotard, dancing on ice.
“You must still be tired,” Mathan says, patting the blanket. “You can sleep as long as you want. It’s safe here.”
“I think I’m going to be swallowed up if I lie down there,” I say cautiously, and he laughs. The sound echoes in the small space, and I’m already giving in by the time he stops. I’m also interested in the square wicker basket in the corner that’s filled with various packaged snacks.
“Aren’t you staying with me?” I ask, partially hoping he will remove his clothes so I can sleep against his warm body.
I had glimpses of his tattoo in my nest, but I want to be closer and trail my lips over him as we share more memories.
I’m sure if I examine the Polaroids, I’ll find our village there.
“I need to talk to Orso and Artie about what’s going to happen next,” Mathan says.
“Am I not included in a conversation about my own heat?” Annoyance curls through me that alphas are about to make decisions about me on their own.
“It’s more that we have some… struggles… I just need to make sure we’re all okay with this during a time when we aren’t so obsessed with your scent that we can only think with our cocks. You smell so good that I’m fighting to stay sitting and not leap on you.”
“Then you’ll come back?” I ask, clasping his hand. “I don’t want to be alone.”
The words are such a surprise that I pause. I said them instinctively, but they are wholly true. I don’t want the three of them to go anywhere.
I’ve always liked Mathan’s patient smile, especially when it’s followed by a gentle kiss to the temple as he strokes my arm, brushing me with his scent.
I don’t have space to argue. If I’m already in heat when I wake up, I won’t be in a place to ask them what they discussed.
The second I lie back, I lose my grip, tumbling straight into the large Mathan-sized dent in the center of the bed, and rolling onto my stomach.
I feel silly as my unruly hair gets caught around me, and I need to untangle it as I adjust myself, but he’s smiling even more widely when I twist onto my back.
“That’s quite a drop,” I say. I’ve sunk into it so much that it’s a real effort to move. “How can you sleep in here? It’s far too soft.”
“I love it. I feel like I’m being wrapped up in love.”
“You really are like an omega,” I reply.
“I can be omega enough for both of us if you want to be in charge,” he says as he moves forward.
“How about equals?” I ask, submitting to his care as he pulls a blanket over me, tucking it around my shoulders. “Friends, even. We don’t have to have a hierarchy.”
He opens his mouth to answer, but I don’t have enough energy for a debate about autonomy in relation to our designations.
“You all have to be here when I wake up,” I say.
“I like it when you’re demanding,” he hums.
“Except none of you actually listen to me when I make real demands,” I reply, my eyes already closing as exhaustion sweeps me.
“We’ll work on it, I promise,” he says, reaching out to run his fingers over the lines of my calf through the blanket.
I can’t believe how tired I am. Considering the years of long hours I worked from college all the way up to three months ago, one would think I would be used to it.
But that was very different from touch-starved, lonely nights where I couldn’t sleep because I was wracked with a painful desire for them.
Would it be childish to pull Mathan into my arms and beg him to stay? I can make the excuse that I need his body heat in the room that’s too warm for my sweater. Or complain that I don’t want to be left alone on the cusp of my heat.
“Stay while I fall asleep,” I say. “That is a demand.”
Mathan brightens into a smile. “Yes, I can definitely do that. Though you look like you’re nodding off already.”
“Just keep stroking me, Mathan. I want you to stay close to me.”
As my lids grow heavy, I let myself be carried away.
Conversations and clear boundaries are so important to me, even with alphas who jump over them whenever they please.
But my omega side is stronger than ever, and I want to be free, especially when the scent of wildflowers and Mathan’s deep purr rock me to sleep.