41. Theo #3
Idris stays close, one hand still at my neck, the other now resting over Callie’s on my cock so they stroke me together.
Dash keeps working Callie from behind—mouth on her breast, fingers circling her oversensitive clit in gentle, continuous motion so the aftershocks keep rolling through her while she recovers enough for more.
Sloane sets a deep, steady rhythm. Every thrust presses me forward into Callie’s body and into the combined grip on my cock. I keep one arm locked around her waist and the other hand moving between her legs again, determined to pull a second release from her before my own control breaks.
“Idris,” I gasp. “Your mouth. On me. Please.”
He shifts lower without breaking the hold at my neck, replacing the hands on my cock with the wet heat of his mouth. The sudden suction makes my back arch. Sloane groans at the way I tighten around him and thrusts harder, still measured, still careful of how close the spike is riding me.
Callie kisses my open mouth, swallowing every broken sound. Dash’s hand covers hers where it rests on my hip, keeping the four of us connected. Sloane’s mouth is at my ear, low praise and reassurance pouring out between each thrust.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Take it. We’re right here. You’re safe. You’re wanted. Color?”
“Green—fuck—green—”
Sloane keeps talking after I answer, his voice rough against my ear while his hips maintain the same deep rhythm behind me.
Idris’ hand stays firm at my nape even when his mouth returns to me.
Callie is warm against my front, Dash’s hand moving over hers, and somewhere in the middle of all of it my mind stops trying to follow every separate thing happening to my body.
The shift is almost frightening because words are usually the first thing I lose when something goes wrong. I feel them getting farther away now too, but it feels... good. Just like the last time.
I am full of Sloane, held by Idris, touching Callie, and surrounded by people who already know what I mean when my mouth stops cooperating. The quiet opening inside my head feels nothing like being trapped.
Idris feels me soften beneath his hand. He lifts his mouth long enough to look at me, and the way his expression changes tells me he recognizes where I’ve gone. “My precious, precious Omega. You’re falling again, aren’t you? We’ve got you sweetheart.”
I make a small sound and push my cheek against Callie’s.
“I have your color,” Idris continues. “If it changes, tap my wrist twice.”
My hand finds him without needing to look. I wrap my fingers loosely around his wrist and leave them there as Sloane kisses the side of my neck. “That’s it, sweetheart. Let us do the thinking for a little while.”
My eyes close. This time, when the words disappear, I let them go.
The second climb for Callie builds under my fingers and Dash’s.
She comes again with a longer, shaking cry, her body shuddering against mine.
The rhythmic clench of her around my fingers and the way her hand spasms on my hip are the last things I can hold onto.
My own orgasm tears through me in heavy pulses, cock spilling across Idris' tongue and Callie’s stomach while Sloane continues to fuck me through it.
The spike crests with the release, the sharpest edge finally beginning to blunt.
Sloane follows a handful of thrusts later, burying himself to the hilt and coming with a deep, guttural sound against my shoulder.
He stays inside me, still hard, knot swelling but not locking, simply holding me full while the last waves of heat drain into heavy, liquid warmth.
Idris eases off my cock and presses soft kisses to my hip, my stomach, the inside of my thigh.
Dash wraps both arms around Callie from behind, keeping her pressed tightly to my front, his mouth gentle at her temple.
I am still warm. I still need them close. But the pain has gone, replaced by the simple, overwhelming fact that Callie never left the center of it.
When the room becomes clear again, Callie’s hand is still in mine. The nest smells heavier than it did before, full of cedar, spice, warm linen, and the different traces each person has left behind. My body is loose and exhausted, the sharp ache reduced to a low pulse that no longer frightens me.
I lie with my head against Idris' chest and one leg tangled through Sloane’s. Callie is pressed along my other side with Dash behind her, his arm curved around her waist while his mouth rests near her shoulder.
Sloane’s hand lies across both my thigh and Callie’s knee. Even half-sprawled and breathing hard, he has found a way to touch us together.
Idris strokes the back of my neck. His fingers move slowly over the damp hair there, avoiding the bite while my breathing settles beneath the rhythm.
Callie turns her face toward me. Her cheeks are flushed, her hair tangled through the blankets, and her eyes look wet when they meet mine.
I lift our joined hands. Her bracelet is dim because everyone attached to it is already close enough to touch her.
“You are still here,” I say.
Her expression breaks gently. She leans toward me and presses her forehead against mine, careful of the way I am resting against Idris.
“I told you I would stay.”