24. Calliope #3
He kisses me hard, messy, still shaking, his mouth open and seeking. Sloane’s thrusts into me turn deeper, more urgent, his fingers working my clit in tight, relentless circles while Idris’ hand stays at the back of my neck, holding me present.
“Come for him,” Idris says, voice low and certain. “Let him feel it.”
I do.
The orgasm tears through me in bright, shaking pulses, my body clenching hard around Sloane’s cock while Theo’s mouth stays on mine, swallowing every broken sound I make. Sloane swears against my shoulder and holds me through it, hips grinding deep, his own release barely leashed.
Idris looks at him over my shoulder. “Now.”
Sloane comes with a low, guttural sound, burying himself to the hilt and spilling inside me in hot, heavy pulses.
His arm locks around my waist hard enough to bruise, face pressed to the back of my neck as the rut-edge finally breaks.
He stays there, breathing hard, still buried deep, while Theo’s kisses turn softer against my mouth and Garrett keeps one steady hand on Theo’s back.
The room is quiet except for the sound of everyone breathing.
Idris is the one who moves first. He reaches for the water glass he must have brought earlier, helps me take a few careful sips while Sloane is still wrapped around me, then does the same for Theo.
He draws the nearest blanket higher over all of us, tucking it around my hip and Theo’s shoulder with the same quiet precision he brings to everything.
His hand settles at my ankle again, thumb moving in slow, grounding circles.
When the room settles, Sloane is still wrapped around me and Theo is still holding my hand. Garrett keeps him warm through the aftershocks, and Idris moves through the nest with water, blankets, and that quiet look that says he has already checked every breath twice.
“Drink,” Idris says, bringing the glass to my mouth before I can decide whether my arms work. His other hand slides beneath my head, lifting me just enough, and I take three obedient swallows because the water is cool and his voice leaves no room for nonsense.
Sloane kisses my shoulder again, then my neck, then the corner of my jaw when I tilt my head. He's still hot behind me, still not fully out of the rut-edge, but his hands are gentle now, almost worshipful where they smooth over my stomach.
“You’re ridiculous,” I whisper.
Sloane smiles against my skin. “You’re welcome.”
“I wasn’t thanking you.”
“You were thinking about it.” He nips lightly below my ear, and when I laugh, he makes a pleased sound that vibrates through my back. “There’s my girl.”
Theo’s fingers twitch against the blanket. His eyes open halfway, searching before he knows what he's searching for, and I lift my hand from Sloane’s arm.
Theo finds it immediately.
His fingers slide between mine, clumsy and warm, and the fear I have been carrying for days goes so quiet I can barely remember the shape of it. I stroke my thumb over his knuckles and lean close enough that his lashes flutter.
“Hi, Star,” I murmur.
Theo’s mouth curves. “Callie.”
Garrett’s hand moves over Theo’s back, slow and steady.
His face is calmer now, the dark thing I saw in him tucked away again beneath the familiar control.
He looks at Theo with something softer than possession and harder than simple affection, and I let myself file the unease away because Theo is safe, Theo is warm, and Theo asked him to be here.
Idris sets the glass aside and draws the blanket higher over my hip. “Color, Calliope?”
“Green.” The answer comes easily. My body is tired, tender, and heavy in exactly the right ways, and Sloane’s arm around me feels like a promise that has learned how to breathe. “Very green.”
Sloane groans behind me. “Very green might kill me.”
“It didn’t.” Idris reaches past me and presses two fingers to Sloane’s forehead, pushing him back an inch when he starts to nose at my neck again. “Give her thirty seconds.”
“I can do thirty seconds.” Sloane lasts maybe three before he kisses my shoulder through the blanket. “That didn’t count.”
Theo makes a sleepy sound that might be a laugh, and the room loosens around it. Even Garrett’s mouth shifts, barely there and almost fond, as Theo tucks closer into the space between us with his body still anchored by Garrett and his hand still in mine.
Theo’s fingers stay tangled with mine while Sloane’s arm remains heavy around my waist. His breathing has nearly matched mine when Garrett adjusts the blanket near Theo’s shoulder.
Garrett shifts after a while, careful not to disturb Theo too much. “He’ll be raw for a while,” he says, voice low enough that it almost belongs to the blankets. His gaze is on Theo’s hair, not on me. “Keep him warm.”
The words touch the edge of my mind, but Sloane’s mouth is already at my temple, warm and lazy, and Theo’s fingers tighten around mine before Garrett finishes speaking. Idris looks at me, not sharply, not worried, only present.
“I’m okay,” I say, though no one has asked. My voice sounds soft and sleepy even to me, and Sloane’s lips curve against my skin.
“Yeah, baby,” he murmurs. “You are.”