24. Calliope #2
For several minutes, that is all it is: warmth, breath, Sloane pressing drowsy, hungry kisses along my shoulder, Idris watching Theo’s face and rubbing slow circles against my ankle.
Garrett keeps one hand on Theo’s back, steady and broad, while Theo leans first into him, then into me, then sits up again like he’s making sure we’re all still where he placed us.
I’ve spent weeks waiting for the moment someone would realize I’m in the wrong part of the room. Tonight, no one moves me.
Theo’s scent changes first.
It slips through the nest in a warm pulse of cardamom and peach blossom, sweet and sharp at once. His fingers tighten over mine, and then his whole body shudders, hard enough that Garrett’s hand stills on his back.
Sloane lifts his head from my neck with a sound that is almost a growl and almost my name. Idris’ fingers close around my ankle before Sloane’s body can surge forward on instinct, and his voice cuts through the sudden heat with clean, controlled authority.
“Theo. Color.”
Theo’s breath stutters. He looks at Garrett, then at me, then down at our joined hands. “Green.”
Garrett shifts closer to him. “Come here.”
Theo goes quick and eager, turning into Garrett’s chest with a needy sound that makes every Alpha in the room sharpen. I feel Sloane’s body answer behind me, hard and hot and immediate, but his arm stays locked around me instead of reaching past me for Theo.
His mouth finds the side of my throat again, and this time the kiss has teeth in it. “Fuck, baby,” Sloane murmurs against my skin. “Look at him.”
I do.
Theo is kneeling between us now, half-turned into Garrett, one hand still locked around mine.
Garrett cups the back of Theo’s neck and says something too low for me to catch, and Theo melts toward the sound with his eyes open and fixed on me, dark and wet and hungry enough to make my thighs press together.
Sloane feels that too. His hand slides over my stomach, possessive and slow, and his voice drops until it is for me alone. “He wants you so bad. Needy for all of us, and he still keeps looking at you.”
My breath catches.
Idris hears it. His gaze moves from Theo’s face to mine, and the heat in his eyes is nothing like correction. It is approval, hunger, and satisfaction held so carefully it almost looks calm. “Don’t look away, Calliope.”
I couldn’t if I tried.
Garrett pulls Theo closer, and that is when I see his face clearly. I have seen Sloane want, open and greedy and loud even when his voice goes soft, and I have seen Idris want with that controlled intensity that makes every inch of me listen before he touches me.
Garrett’s want looks different.
His eyes on Theo are dark and fixed and almost reverent, but my stomach tightens before I understand why. It is too deep, maybe, too still, something shadowed moving under the surface while his hand stays gentle at Theo’s neck.
Theo makes a broken sound, and Garrett’s expression shifts again, so exposed for half a second that I feel like I have seen something private. Then Theo tugs my hand, and the little chill under my ribs slips beneath the heat.
Sloane kisses the edge of my jaw. “God, I can’t wait to watch you two together someday.”
Theo hears that. His gaze snaps to Sloane, then back to me, and the blush that rises in his face is so beautiful I forget the shadow in Garrett’s eyes entirely.
Idris makes a low sound, amused and pleased, and reaches across the nest to touch Theo’s wrist where he's holding me. “Greedy thought,” he says, and his voice slides warm through the room. “Good one, though.”
Sloane’s laugh rumbles into my shoulder. “Thank you for your approval.”
“I didn’t say approved.” Idris’ eyes stay on me when he answers, and his thumb moves once against Theo’s wrist. “I said good.”
That shouldn't make me shiver, but it does. Sloane’s arm tightens around me, and his smile presses hot against my neck.
“There she is,” he murmurs.
The spike rolls through Theo harder on the next breath. His head drops back against Garrett’s shoulder, and the sound he makes is raw enough that my hand jerks toward him before I stop myself with our fingers still joined.
The memory of Garrett’s table growl flashes through me with Sloane rut-thick behind my back and Theo trembling between us. I don’t pull away, but I keep my hand where Theo already has it and watch his face.
Theo clutches me harder.
Garrett sees it. Sloane feels it. Idris’ gaze goes sharp with heat, and his command lands with a quietness that makes my bones listen. “Hold him, Calliope.”
Relief hits so fast it almost makes me dizzy. I fold my hand around Theo’s and lift our joined fingers to my mouth.
Theo whimpers when I kiss his knuckles, and Sloane swears against my neck like the sound has reached into him and twisted. Garrett’s eyes flick to mine over Theo’s shoulder, unreadable for a heartbeat, then he bends his head to Theo again.
Theo’s spike rolls through the nest in a thick, sweet wave of cardamom and peach blossom, sharp enough that my own body answers before I can think.
His fingers lock tighter around mine. Garrett answers first, the strongest pull of Alpha to Omega, drawing Theo fully against him with firm, steady hands.
He eases Theo onto his back in the center of the nest, one of Idris’ throws still under them, and settles between his thighs.
Theo’s legs open for him without hesitation.
Garrett pushes inside him in one long, controlled thrust, deep and sure, and Theo’s mouth falls open on a broken sound that vibrates straight through our joined hands.
“Color,” Idris says, voice low and clear across the nest.
“Green,” Theo answers, already breathless, eyes glassy and fixed on me even as Garrett begins to move.
Garrett fucks him with deliberate, anchoring strokes, hips rolling deep and steady, one hand braced beside Theo’s shoulder and the other holding his hip open.
Theo takes every inch of him, body arching, the wet sound of it filling the quiet room.
His free hand clutches at Garrett’s forearm, but the one holding mine never lets go.
Every time the intensity climbs he turns his face toward me, seeking my voice, my eyes, the press of my mouth when he can reach it.
Sloane is already moving behind me.
His mouth is at the side of my throat, open and hungry, while his hands slide under the hem of my sleep shirt and push it up.
“Look at him,” he murmurs against my skin, voice rough with the rut-edge.
“Taking it so well. Still holding onto you.” His palms cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples until they tighten, and I arch back into him with a soft sound I can’t hold in.
Idris’ hand stays at my ankle, grounding, then slides higher along my calf as he shifts closer.
“Color, Calliope,” Idris says.
“Green.”
Sloane’s hands move lower, pushing my pants and underwear down my hips.
I lift for him without thinking. The cool air of the room touches my bare skin for only a second before Sloane’s body covers me again, hot and solid, his cock already hard against the small of my back.
He kisses the hinge of my jaw, the edge of my ear, the place where my pulse jumps.
“Want you,” he says, simple and raw. “Been wanting you all night.”
Idris reaches past me and touches Sloane’s wrist once, a quiet command that slows him. “Easy. Let her feel you.”
Sloane obeys. He guides himself between my thighs from behind, the thick head of his cock dragging through the wetness already there, and then he pushes in—slow, deep, filling me in one long glide until his hips are flush against my ass.
The stretch pulls a broken breath from my lungs.
Sloane’s arm bands around my waist, holding me tight to him, and his mouth finds the back of my neck as he starts to move.
Theo’s eyes are on us the entire time.
Garrett’s thrusts into Theo stay measured and deep, the rhythm of an Alpha carrying an Omega through a spike without letting it tip into overwhelm.
Theo’s free hand reaches for me whenever the intensity eases enough for him to breathe.
I lean forward as far as Sloane’s hold allows and meet him.
Our mouths find each other in a hungry, open kiss that tastes of heat and need.
Theo makes a soft, desperate sound against my lips.
Sloane’s next thrust drives deeper into me at the same moment, and the dual sensation—Theo’s mouth, Sloane’s cock—makes my vision blur.
“Good,” Idris murmurs, close enough now that his hand can rest at the side of my face, thumb stroking once along my cheekbone. “Stay with them. Let them feel you.”
Sloane fucks me with the familiar, devoted hunger I know by heart—deep rolling thrusts that drag against every sensitive place inside me, his hand sliding down to rub tight circles over my clit.
Every time Theo kisses me, Sloane’s rhythm stutters and then deepens, like the sight of us together feeds the rut-edge he’s holding back.
Idris keeps the pace from tipping too far too fast, quiet commands and color checks landing exactly when the air grows too thick.
“Theo. Color.”
“Green—please—”
“Callie.”
“Green.”
Garrett’s knot begins to swell. I watch it happen in the way Theo’s body tightens, the way his back arches harder, the soft punched-out sound he makes when the lock seats fully inside him.
Garrett holds him through it, forehead pressed to Theo’s temple, hips giving the smallest, deepest rolls so the knot works him without pain.
Theo’s release hits first—quiet and full-body, his hand crushing mine, a broken little cry leaving his throat as he clenches around Garrett and comes in long, shaking waves.
Garrett follows soon after, controlled and close, keeping the pressure steady until Theo goes loose and trembling beneath him.
Theo turns toward me the moment he can breathe again.