YOU BEG SO SWEET
She dreamed of hands.
Warm, calloused. Slow. Cruel. Worshipful.
One traced the inside of her thigh—so softly she moaned in her sleep.
Another ghosted over her navel, then lower, just brushing the damp fabric between her legs.
A whisper against her skin: "Look how wet she gets in her sleep."
Noelani stirred, legs shifting apart.
"She's glowing again," Rowan murmured. He was kneeling by her bed, face half in the shadow, watching the golden pulse along her inner thighs. "Even in her dreams, she wants to be touched."
Caeden sat at her other side, one hand resting on her hip. "Think she's dreaming about us?"
"She moaned when I said her name."
"That's our sweet little thing," Caeden said, brushing her panties with the back of one finger. "Dripping in her sleep, waiting to be used."
"Don't," Lysander growled from the doorway. "Don't make her come yet. Not till she's awake. Not till she's begging for it."
"But look at her," Caeden whispered. "She's glowing like a slut in heat."
Rowan bent closer. Kissed her inner thigh. Barely touched her. "Good girls don't glow in their sleep'" he whispered. "But you're not a good girl, are you, starlight?"
She whimpered—still half asleep—and arched into the air like her body knew what it wanted. What it needed.
Before anyone could give it to her, she gasped awake.
Eyes wide. Panting. Lit from the outside.
She blinked once, twice—and realized she was surrounded.
"W-what—?" Her voice was breathy, confused. "Why are you—?"
"You were dreaming," Rowan said, smiling like a predator. "And glowing. So we came to help."
"Help?"
Caeden's palm dragged slowly up her thigh, stopping just at the edge of her soaked underwear. "You looked so pretty begging in your sleep."
"I—I didn't—!"
"Sweetheart," Lysander murmured, stepping into the light. "You were whimpering our names."
She covered her face. "I was asleep—!"
"And needy," Aeryn said from the shadows. "I could smell you from the hallway."
"I want to die," she whispered.
"No you don't," Rowan said softly, brushing her curls back. "You want to come."
She whimpered.
"Say it," Caeden whispered against her neck. "Say you want it. Say you want out hands between your thighs."
"I—I—" Her voice cracked. "I don't know—"
"You know." Lysander took her wrist and pressed it to her own underwear. "Feel that? That's not confusion, little star. That's need."
She cried out softly, "Please."
And they broke.
Hands on her skin. Under her clothes. Everywhere.
Rowan pulled her into his lap and whispered filth against her throat.
"Good girl. Look how well you take it. Look how well you glow when we spread you open."
Caeden hooked his fingers under her panties, dragged them down inch by aching inch.
"Pretty little cunt. Fuck. You're soaked for us. Do you even realize how sweet you smell when you're desperate?"
Aeryn's fingers dug into her hips, holding her in place. "She likes it. She likes being used. Our perfect little thing."
And Lysander—cold, calm Lysander—kissed her temple and said:
"I'll make you come when you've earned it. Not before. And not until I say so."
She trembled. Sobbed. Begged.
They slapped her thighs. Spanked her. Spread her out and whispered how good she was. How filthy. How beautiful. How she was made to be touched by them, to glow for them, to fall apart and come undone in their hands.
Her body screamed for it.
And finally—
Lysander slid his fingers inside her.
She shattered.
One touch. One stroke. And she came so hard the light poured from her skin in waves.
The boys groaned like men in prayer.
And Noelani wept softly in Lysander's arms, glowing and gasping and trembling with shame and joy abd something like peace.
"You did so well," he murmured, holding her through her aftershocks. "Such a good girl for us. So perfect. So fucking sweet."
But even as the others kissed her shoulders and stroked her hair,a shadow filled the doorway.
The Headmaster.
She didn't see him.
But Lysander did.
And froze.
The Headmaster stepped into the room without a sound.
Everyone went still.
He crossed to Noelani—still half-naked, glowing, spent—and held out his hand.
"Come here," he said gently.
She blinked up at him, dazed.
"I—I can't—"
"You can," he said.
She reached out.
The minute their fingers touched—
The room shook.
Every candle went out. Her glow flared gold-hot, brighter than ever.
Aeryn stumbled back, eyes wide. Rowan cursed.
Lysander stated like he'd just watched the world end.
And the Headmaster?
He smiled.
Just slightly.
"You were made to fall apart," he whispered. "And you've only just begun."
Then he was gone.
Leave silence.
And four men who suddenly realized—
They weren't the only ones falling.