Vaelor
The door is open a few inches.
I push it the rest of the way and she’s there — middle of the bed, hair across the pillow, the thermal blanket pulled up to her shoulder. Breathing slow and even.
She’s beautiful, even like this.
I stand there longer than I mean to.
Trey stops beside me. Doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.
We kick off our boots. I go first, careful, and the mattress dips and she shifts — just slightly — and presses back toward me before I’ve even settled.
My arm ends up across her waist. I notice it after the fact.
Trey takes the other side. He sits on the very edge and leaves more room than he needs to. I watch him slowly lay down like he’s afraid he’s going to break her.
If anyone is going to break her, it’s me.
Her hand finds his in the dark.
She needs us close, even unconscious.
Trey stops breathing.
When he finally exhales it’s long, wrecked. I stare at the ceiling and try to think about anything else besides her pressed against me.
I nearly doze off.
The room is darker. The house is quiet. Her breathing has shifted — a fraction too fast, a fraction too deliberate — and my arm tightens across her waist before I’m fully awake.
Her hips roll back. Once. Twice.
Oh. Oh no.
I try to create space, shifting back an inch.
She follows still asleep. Her back finds my chest and I press my forehead to her shoulder and think about bread.
It doesn’t work.
She does it again and this time a sound comes with it — soft, breathy — and my grip tightens.
I make myself relax.
Trey says my name. So quiet I almost miss it.
“Yeah?”
“What do we—”
“I don’t know.”
His hand, still caught in hers, is being pressed now. Against her chest.
I don’t miss the groan that comes out of Trey.
I try two inches of space.
She makes a noise in protest. Her body follows mine.
Trey muffles a laugh and I want to kill him right now.
“She’s asleep,” I say frustrated.
He’s laughing so hard the bed shakes.
“Vaelor.”
“Yeah.”
“She’s really not—”
“I know.”
My thumb moves at the curve of her hip without permission. She arches into it and I bite down on my lip.
The room gets very quiet.
“We’re in trouble,” Trey says.
“Yeah.”
“Both of us.”
“Apparently.”
“At the same—”
“Trey.”
“Right.”
I look at her face.
The line between her brows. Her mouth parted. Her fingers moving against Trey’s wrist like she can’t help herself.
“Nova.”
Nothing.
“Nova.”
Her eyes flutter open.
She blinks at the ceiling. Then she turns her head and looks at me. The smile is soft, comfortable. And we put it there.
“Your ears are red,” she whispers.
“They’re not.”
“They really are.”
Behind her, Trey makes a sound. Strangled.
“Go back to sleep,” I tell her.
“I don’t want to sleep.”
“Sweetheart—”
“If you say sleep again,” she says, “I’ll go find Rane.”
Trey loses the fight. The laugh comes out real — startled, warm — and it’s the first unguarded thing I’ve heard from him in a long time.
Nova’s hand reaches back without her looking. Finds his arm. Squeezes once.
His jaw shifts and his whole body settles on one breath.
She turns back to me and I can’t stop what I’m feeling.
Six days of watching over her, making sure she’s still breathing. After we lost her. After they took her from us.
I lean down and let all of it go at once.
Her mouth opens before I get there.
She tastes like sleep.
The warmth of her mouth, the way she opens immediately, no hesitation, like she’s been waiting and she’s done being patient about it. Her hand finds the back of my neck.
I pull back half an inch.
She makes a sound.
“Trey,” I say.
He’s already closer than he was. I don’t know when he moved. His forehead is at her shoulder, his hand still caught in hers.
She turns her head.
Looks at him.
He goes still.
She sees exactly what I see. Trey is hers.
She reaches up and touches his jaw with her free hand. Runs her thumb along it. Trey’s eyes close.
“Hey,” she says softly.
His throat moves.
She pulls him down.
The sound he makes when their mouths meet — something low and broken that only confirms what she already knows. She makes one back and his whole hand splays against her ribs like he’s making sure she’s real.
When he pulls back his eyes are wet.
He blinks it away fast, jaw working. She cups his face and holds it.
“Hey,” she says again. Firmer.
He exhales. Gives her a small smile. She nods back.
His hands start moving and she lets out a breathy moan.
Her hands on my chest move slightly, nails digging in.
I don’t hate it.
The shimmer starts where her hands are. Pale. Iridescent. Warmth that I feel before I see it.
She makes a low sound.
“Vaelor.”
“Yeah.”
Her hands slow. She’s looking at the shimmer moving under her palms.
“Is this—”
“You.” I cover her hands with mine and the warmth doubles. “Just you.”
She looks at it for a second. Then her hands move to my waistband.
“Nova—”
“Let me.” Her fingers curl into the fabric. “I’ve never… But I want to.”
“Your shoulder—”
“Is fine.”
“Sweetheart—”
She pulls.
“Shut up, Vaelor.”
I let her.
The sound that comes out of me when her hand wraps around me goes somewhere past dignified and she knows it immediately.
“Oh,” she says.
“Don’t.”
Her hand moves.
My forehead drops to her shoulder.
“Nova.”
“Hmm?” Entirely too pleased with herself.
Adorable little shit.
She does it again. Slow. Deliberate.
The sound that comes out of me this time has some bear in it and she goes still for half a second — staring into my eyes like she sees something — and then her grip tightens.
“That was different,” she says.
“Yeah.”
“Do it again.”
“That’s not — that’s not how it—”
She laughs and moves her hand and the growl happens before I can stop it. She makes a sound against my throat that is genuinely delighted and I am going to lose my mind.
Trey makes a noise. Trying very hard not to be a laugh.
“Don’t you dare,” I tell him.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Damn right.”
Nova pulls back just enough to look at me. Face flushed, eyes dark, wearing the expression that means she has decided something and the rest of the room is going to find out when she’s ready.
“Trey, come here,” she says.
She reaches back without looking. Finds his hand. Brings it to her waist.
“I want—” She stops. Her hips press back into Trey. He makes a sound against her hair. “I want—”
“Tell me,” Trey says. Low. His mouth at her ear.
Her breath catches.
Trey’s hand slides down her stomach.
She grabs my wrist.
The sound she makes when his fingers find her is real. Unguarded and loud and she doesn’t try to stop it — just tips her head back against his shoulder and lets it out. Trey makes a sound against her temple like it wrecked him to hear it.
“Trey—”
“Shhh.” His voice is already gone. “I’ve got you.”
She’s still holding my wrist. Her grip tightens each time he moves. I watch her face — the flushing, the way her mouth stays open, the shimmer moving in waves across her chest and stomach, brightest where his hand is.
He looks up at me over her shoulder.
His eyes are glowing gold.
He looks like a man who just realized the edge he’s been standing on for months has ground under it after all.
I lean in and put my mouth to her jaw and she turns toward it immediately and the three of us find a rhythm.
“I said I’ve never… and I want to,” she breathes.
I pause, trying to figure out what she…
“Get on your knees Vaelor.”
Oh. Shit.
I don’t move fast enough.
She pushes at my shoulder and I go — down, back, whatever she wants — and she follows me, leaning on her good arm, and I realize what she’s doing about two seconds before she does it.
“Nova—”
“I said I’ve never.” Her mouth close. Too close. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”
I open my mouth.
“Vaelor.” She looks up at me. “Let me.”
I let her.
She licks across the tip and the sound that comes out of me sounds more bear than man.
She does it again.
I grab the headboard.
She looks up at me — holds it — and then her lips wrap around me and my free hand goes to her hair and I stop thinking in complete sentences.
I barely catch Trey reaching for her underwear. The small lift of her hips as she lets him slip it off. His hand moving back between her legs.
She takes me deeper.
I watch as he pushes two fingers inside her and the moan she makes around me goes straight down my spine. Trey makes a sound above her like he felt it too — felt what it did to her, what it did to me — and his fingers move.
She moans again.
Her mouth finds a rhythm and every time his fingers curl her mouth on me tightens. The shimmer rolls off her in slow waves — gold where Trey’s hand is, brightest at her wrist — and I am holding the headboard with everything I have.
“Nova.” Warning.
She hums.
The vibration goes everywhere and my hips move without permission and I tighten my hand in her hair.
“Sweetheart—”
She does something with her tongue.
The growl that comes out of me shakes the bed. His fingers move and she breaks around them — loud even muffled, shaking — and I don’t know how I hold on.
She pulls back. Forehead to my thigh.
“Okay,” she says breathing hard.
She turns towards Trey as he slips his wet fingers into his mouth and groans.
She gasps, swats at him with her good hand as she sits up.
“What?!”
“You know what.”
He shrugs. “I can’t help it you taste so good.”
She turns red but moves forward, forcing him flat on his back. She straddles him carefully and I don’t know how I’m going to get through this without coming like an inexperienced teenager.
She settles her weight over him and reaches down between them. Trey’s jaw drops and he makes a sound that is not a word in any language.
She laughs as she starts to sink down. Gasping suddenly as she takes him in slowly.
Her right hand braced on his chest, her eyes on him while completely overwhelmed. I can see it, the effort she makes trying to stay present through both at once.
Trey’s hands go to her thighs. He’s just barely holding on.
“Nova.” His voice is gone.
“I know.” Breathless. “Just—”
She rolls her hips and he chokes and his head goes back.
She starts to move.