28. Calliope #2
The room starts going soft around the edges. I can still hear Sloane and feel Theo moving against me, but I stop trying to anticipate the next touch. My thoughts stretch farther apart until there’s room between them, warm and quiet and blessedly empty of decisions.
I missed this, I tell myself. I used to fall into subspace beneath Idris’ hands and trust that he would watch the things I no longer needed to watch for myself. I have missed it so badly that recognizing it hurts for half a second before even that slides away.
Idris’s rhythm slows rather than stopping, his thumb stroking once beneath my ear while he waits for my eyes to find his. “There you are, princess.” His voice reaches me more easily than anything else. “You’re falling, aren’t you, sweetheart? Stay with my voice.”
I nod, because speaking already feels farther away than it did a minute ago.
“If you want me to stop, squeeze my wrist twice.”
My fingers are curled around his forearm. I manage one deliberate squeeze instead.
His expression softens. “Green. I’ve got you.”
Theo comes first among the three of them, spilling against my hip with a soft, broken cry, his face buried in my neck, his body shaking through it while Sloane and Idris both reach to steady him.
I follow not long after, the third release pulled from me by Idris’ careful angle and the feeling of both Sloane and Theo still touching me. The pleasure spreading through me takes me farther under, my body tightening around Idris before every muscle seems to let go at once.
Tears slide into my hair, my body relaxing in increments until I’m floating somewhere beneath thought, aware of hands and mouths and Idris’ voice without needing to sort any of them into separate pieces.
When Sloane kisses my cheek, I turn toward him, awkwardly trying to sink deeper into their touch.
Sloane takes his own release in my hand while watching my face, forehead pressed to mine, the nearness of the knot held back by sheer will.
Idris lasts longest, the controlled anchor until the end.
When he finally lets go, it’s with a low, muffled sound against my shoulder, his body taut above me, the choice not to bite still written in every line of him.
Idris stays over me until my breathing begins to even, his forehead resting against mine before he eases back.
Theo stays half sprawled across my chest, possessive and boneless, his hand repeatedly finding my arm, my side, my cheek as if confirming I am still solid.
Sloane keeps one hand open near my hip, palm up, until I take it.
Idris reaches for the water on the nightstand, helps me drink, then draws the heaviest blanket over all of us. His voice stays low and even.
“Name where you are, Callie.”
“In the bed. With you. With them.”
“Do you want more space or us to come closer?”
“Closer.”
He settles the blanket higher and keeps his hand resting lightly on my ankle, a quiet point of contact while the room slowly comes back down around us.
I’m on my back with Theo half across my chest, one of his legs hooked over mine like he plans to physically prevent morning from taking me anywhere.
Sloane lies at my side with his forehead pressed to my ribs, and Idris is behind him, one arm slung over Sloane’s waist while his hand rests lightly on my hip.
The bed feels too full and still incomplete, though I don't understand the shape of the absence until I open my eyes.
Dash is in the doorway.
He's barefoot, one shoulder against the frame, his expression unreadable in the low light.
He isn't angry. That almost makes it worse.
He looks like a man who followed a sound, found exactly what he told me to want, and stopped at the edge because he does not know whether the invitation extends to him. My heart turns over so hard it hurts.
Theo lifts his head from my chest.
His hair is wild, his face flushed and soft from sleepiness and pleasure, but his eyes sharpen when he sees Dash. He looks from me to the doorway, then back again, and something decisive moves through his small, exhausted body.
“Callie needs you,” Theo says.
Dash straightens slightly. “Theo, this isn't something you have to fix.”
Theo’s growl is immediate.
It isn't loud. It isn't frightening. It is the most offended sound I have ever heard from someone who can barely keep his eyes open.
He pushes himself up on one elbow and glares at Dash like the man has missed an obvious instruction written on the wall.
“Callie needs you,” he repeats, each word careful and stubborn. “The nest needs you too.”
Sloane lifts his head. For one second, pain crosses his face, complicated and honest, and then he moves.
He shifts behind Dash’s empty space before Dash has even stepped into it, making room with his body in a way that says more than any speech could.
Idris moves with him, steady and silent, the shape of the bed changing around the opening Theo has named.
Dash looks at me.
I reach for him. “Please come here.”
That is all it takes.
He comes to the bed slowly, like he still expects someone to tell him he has misunderstood.
No one does. Sloane’s hand closes briefly around his forearm as he passes, not stopping him, only guiding him over the last awkward edge.
Idris makes space behind Sloane, and Theo tugs at my hand until I am turned enough for Dash to fit in front of me.
Dash climbs into the nest and pulls me into his arms.
The moment his chest meets mine, something in me gives.
I bury my face against his throat, and he holds me with both arms, solid and warm and shaking now that he has stopped pretending not to.
Theo presses against my back, Sloane settles behind him, and Idris' arm comes around the outside of all of us, resting there like a roof.
Theo’s fingers creep over my waist, finding Dash’s shirt. He pats the fabric once, satisfied and sleepy, then tucks his face against the back of my shoulder. “Now it is complete,” he murmurs, smiling like he has fixed the whole world by dragging one more Alpha into the bed.
Mild laughter moves through the room, soft and exhausted and a little broken at the edges.
It comes from Sloane first, then Dash, then me, and finally Idris lets out a breath that is close enough to laughter to count.
Theo preens against my back, smug in the boneless way only a half-asleep Omega can manage.
I close my eyes with Dash’s heartbeat under my cheek, Theo wrapped around my spine, Sloane’s warmth at my back, and Idris holding the edge of us steady.