5. Idris
Idris
The house smells like coffee, clean laundry, and Callie the second we step inside. Honeyed pear and vanilla tea drift through the lower floor, warmer than it was this morning, brightened by an eager edge that makes Sloane inhale like he’s been caught by the throat.
The sound he makes is almost too low to hear, but I feel it anyway, that rough Alpha catch in his chest that says the edge he’s been walking all evening just got narrower.
I set my keys in the dish and listen. There’s no grading lecture playing from her laptop, no shower running, no movement from our bedroom.
For a moment, the house is still enough that I hear the low tick of the foyer clock and the faint sound of Sloane setting the lock behind us.
Then her humming reaches us from upstairs, coming from the back hallway.
We follow it past Callie’s room, past the linen closet she’s rearranged twice this week, to the guest bedroom. The room has become something between a nest, a shop display, and a very soft disaster.
Dark pillows cover the bed and spill onto the floor, some still in bags, some already fluffed and rejected into piles only Callie could understand.
Folded blankets lean against the dresser.
A lamp with a fabric shade sits on the nightstand, the overhead light switched off so the room is bathed in a soft glow.
A plant has appeared on the windowsill, and the scent-free linens are folded untouched on the chair while Callie stands barefoot in the middle of everything wearing one of my shirts.
I lean against the edge of the doorway, folding my arms across my chest as I watch our Beta in her element. Her hair is pinned up badly, pieces slipping against her cheeks as she compares two throws with the focus of someone making a decision far more serious than color or texture.
The shirt slides off one shoulder because it’s too large on her, leaving a line of bare skin that pulls my attention. Beside me, Sloane goes utterly still, the way he only does when want has stopped being playful and started turning into need.
She’s so fucking happy, I think. At first, I was ready to call it off and tell Garrett that we needed more time before bringing in an Omega. But now? I can’t wait to watch our Beta flourish.
Sloane’s breath leaves him in a quiet laugh, and Callie spins so quickly one of the throws drops at her feet. Her eyes widen, then narrow when she sees our faces. “Don’t laugh,” she says, clutching the second throw to her chest like a defense.
Sloane steps into the room with both hands lifted, though his eyes are a bit darker than usual. “I’m not laughing at you, baby. I’m laughing because I’ve never seen someone check the sheets and accidentally buy half a nesting aisle.”
“I didn’t buy half an aisle.” Her gaze flicks to the bags, then back to us with less confidence. “It was more like a third, and some of it might go back.”
I move in slowly, taking in the piles as I pass them. “The lamp?”
“The overhead light felt too harsh.” She looks toward the nightstand, and some of the defensiveness drains from her voice because now she’s explaining the thing she actually cares about.
“His profile says low light helps when he locks up, and I thought if he didn’t want the curtains open, this would still feel warm.
The plant can move if it’s too much, but rooms with living things feel less temporary, and he’s already had enough temporary. ”
Sloane’s expression changes as he listens even as the muscles in his jaw and neck pull tight, his rut right at the edge of his control. He reaches down and picks up the throw she dropped, rubbing the fabric between his fingers before setting it on the bed with the others. “And the pillows?”
Callie’s cheeks turn pink. “Nests shouldn’t make someone feel like they have to ask for softness.”
For a few seconds, the room falls quiet as I step behind her, my hand settling at her waist over the hem of my shirt, and she stills immediately. Her body leans back by a fraction before she catches herself, and that small, instinctive trust does more to me than any deliberate invitation could.
“You’re happy,” I say against her hair.
She exhales, the throw lowering in her hands as she nods. “I want him to feel wanted when he gets here.”
Sloane comes closer and takes the throw from her before it slips.
His hand brushes mine at her waist, then lingers there for half a second, a slight tremble running through him.
He bends and kisses the side of her head, then glances at me with his mouth soft instead of smug.
“He’ll feel it,” he says, though it comes off more as a growl.
Callie hums as she presses back into me, her cheeks flushing softly as if she’s just caught onto the heat pouring through the bond. “Alpha, not here. We can’t…”
I press a kiss to the bare line of her shoulder, tasting the soft skin where my shirt has slipped, as Sloane’s hand tightens on her hip like he’s been waiting for permission. Callie makes a small sound, half surprise, half want as she sags against my chest..
Sloane laughs under his breath, and tilts her face toward him with two fingers under her chin.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of her mouth, then the other side.
“Happy enough to ruin a whole guest room for an Omega who isn’t even here yet.
” He kisses her properly then, his hips rocking forward.
Callie lets out a small gasp as her fingers tangle in his shirt.
I slide my hands under the hem of the shirt she’s wearing, my palms skating up her bare thighs, over the soft curve of her hips, until I’m holding her waist. “You’re going to have to wash everything,” I tell her against her hair.
“Every pillow. Every blanket. The sheets you haven’t even put on yet. ”
She tries to answer, but Sloane is already kissing down her throat, and whatever protest she had turns into a soft, breathless laugh that ends on a hitch when I cup her breasts through the thin fabric.
Her nipples are already tight as I roll them between my fingers, Callie arching into the touch, pressing herself more firmly between us.
Sloane drops to his knees without warning, pushing the shirt up so he can press open-mouthed kisses along the soft skin of her stomach.
“Fuck, you smell so good when you’re like this,” he says, almost reverent.
“All sweet and hopeful and ours.” He looks up at her, the sight of him on his knees in the middle of her carefully arranged nest tearing a possessive growl from the back of my throat.
I turn her just enough that I can claim her mouth while Sloane works lower. My tongue slides against hers, tasting the quiet moan she feeds me when Sloane’s mouth finds the soft skin of her inner thigh.
He kisses, licks, nuzzles, worshipping every inch like he has all night and nowhere else to be.
“You’re not wearing panties, Callie. Baby, it’s like Christmas.
” When he spreads her with his thumbs and drags his tongue through her folds, Callie breaks the kiss with a soft cry, one hand flying back to grip my forearm.
“That’s it,” I murmur against her temple. “Let him taste you, princess. He’s been on edge all fucking day, waiting to get back to you.”
Callie’s happiness blooms through her scent as she shakes against me, sweet and bright enough that Sloane answers with a low, hungry sound.
Sloane makes a low, hungry sound and works her open with long, slow strokes of his tongue, sucking gently on her clit until her hips start to rock back and forth.
Her ass nudges against my cock, my own need pushing against my control. She lets out a soft gasp as I look down to see Sloane’s fingers digging into her flesh hard enough to leave pink marks.
“Tell us if it’s too much, Callie,” I whisper in her hair, keeping one arm banded around her waist, the other hand still playing with her breast, thumb flicking over the tight peak. “If it hurts, say something. Sloane’s at the edge of a rut but I have no problem taking him to our bedroom, okay?”
Callie nods furiously before going lax again, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as her scent explodes through the room.
Slowly, I move us to the floor, right in the middle of the pillows, Sloane’s soft breathing kicking up to a low, almost continuous rumble in his chest. His scent spikes as well, edging him face first into his rut. He sits up, his eyes nearly black, his hands already reaching for Callie again.
Fuck.
“Sloane,” I say, quiet but firm. He doesn’t look at me so I reach past Callie and thread my fingers into his hair, tugging just enough to make him lift his gaze. “Look at me.”
His eyes are even darker now, his pupils blown, a near-feral edge under the devotion.
He blinks, breathing hard, and I feel the tension in his shoulders.
“There you go,” I tell him, softer. “Breathe. Take it slow, babe. We’re not rushing this.
” I glance at Callie, who’s watching us both with flushed cheeks and parted lips, still smiling even as she trembles.
“Callie. You okay with us? You ready for both of us?”
A wicked smile spreads across her face despite the way her thighs are shaking. “Just don’t knot me at the same time,” she says, voice already breathless. “I don’t think I’m ready for both of you like that. Not both knots. Not tonight.”
Sloane laughs as he leans forward to steal a kiss, the sound muffled and rough, and I feel some of the sharp edge in him ease. “No knots,” he promises, kissing down her neck. “Not both. Just… fuck. Just this.”
I kiss her again, then carefully turn us so she’s straddling my lap facing me.
I free myself from my pants just enough, the head of my cock dragging through her wetness, and her eyes flutter shut as she sinks down onto me in one long, careful glide.
I hold her hips and let her adjust, kissing the soft sounds out of her mouth while Sloane shifts behind her.