44. Calliope #2
Idris' hands move over me with slow, controlled attention.
He cups my breasts, thumbs brushing the nipples until they tighten, then leans down and takes one into his mouth.
The wet heat of his tongue draws a soft sound from my throat.
He gives the other the same thorough care while one hand slides down my stomach and between my legs.
His fingers stroke through the wetness there, parting me, circling my clit with exact pressure before two of them ease inside.
“Still yes?” he asks against my skin.
“Yes. Please don’t stop.”
He works me open with patient strokes, curling his fingers, watching every change in my breathing.
Theo’s hands travel over my waist and the undersides of my breasts from behind, his mouth open and warm at my shoulder.
When Idris adds a third finger I lean back into Theo for support, and Theo holds me without hesitation, beginning to rock his hips in small, restless movements against my back.
Idris withdraws his fingers only when I am trembling. He frees himself, guides the blunt head of his cock to me, and looks into my eyes once more.
“Look at me, princess.”
He sinks into me in one long, controlled thrust. A broken moan leaves me as he fills me completely. Theo’s arms tighten around my waist, and he begins thrusting against my back in earnest, the hard length of him sliding along my skin in time with the first slow rolls of Idris' hips.
Idris fucks me with steady, measured strokes.
One hand stays at the small of my back; the other braces my hip so every movement remains exact.
Theo kisses my neck, my shoulder, the hinge of my jaw, his breathing growing ragged against my skin as he uses the friction of my body.
I reach back and hold his thigh, keeping him close while Idris continues the deep, rhythmic thrusts inside me.
The heat between the three of us builds.
Idris' rhythm stays controlled, but I feel the moment something shifts in him—the subtle hitch in his breath, the way his gaze drops to the unmarked side of my throat opposite Sloane’s bite, the sudden sharp edge of hunger that moves through his body.
He turns his face away at once, jaw tight, forcing the instinct down.
I cup his face in both hands and bring his eyes back to mine.
“I don’t want to wait anymore,” I tell him, voice steady even though I am shaking around him. “Please.”
Idris' expression softens into something almost pained, then opens. A small, real smile touches his mouth.
“I should have never waited this long,” he says, quiet and rough. “I should have asked you the moment you were ready. I’m not waiting again.”
He leans in and kisses me once, deep and certain, then lowers his mouth to the unmarked side of my throat.
His hips keep moving, slow and deep, as his knot begins to swell just outside me, the thick base stretching me with every careful thrust but never quite locking.
The pressure is intense, perfect, right on the edge of too much.
Then he bites.
His teeth break skin on the opposite shoulder from Sloane’s mark.
The pain is bright and clean. The bond floods me at once—Idris' control, his fierce relief, the depth of his love, the residual fear that he might still lose this—pouring into me in a single overwhelming rush. At the same time the new connection strikes through Sloane’s existing bond like a struck wire, a sharp, distant flare of heat and recognition that I feel all the way down my spine.
Theo comes hard against my back with a broken, muffled cry, spilling across my skin in hot pulses. His arms lock around my waist and his face presses into the unbitten side of my neck as the pheromones from the new bond hit him.
I can feel everything with the new bond wide open, Theo’s release painting my back, and the echo of Sloane’s distant reaction.
“I can feel you,” I gasp, voice shaking. “Oh my god—Idris—I can feel you—”
Theo’s whine cuts through the air, high and desperate.
His scent blasts through the room in a thick, sweet wave of cardamom and peach blossom gone sharp with need. I twist around in Idris' arms and find Theo’s eyes completely blown, dark and glassy, his lips parted as he stares at the fresh bite on my shoulder.
I can’t help the soft giggle that escapes me.
Theo blinks, dazed. “I didn’t… oh god…”
The rich smell of fresh slick rises between us as he lets out another broken whine, hips shifting restlessly. His hand reaches blindly for Idris.
I laugh again as Idris carefully pulls out of me. The sudden emptiness makes me shiver, but he is already turning, strong hands closing around Theo’s waist and dragging him between us into the center of the nest. Theo goes willingly, almost climbing into Idris' lap.
I shift to the side so I can stay pressed along Theo’s back and shoulder. My mouth finds the unmarked skin of his shoulder opposite the temporary bite, kissing along the line of it while Idris positions himself.
Idris presses into Theo in one smooth, controlled thrust. Theo’s head falls back against my shoulder with a long, shattered moan. I keep kissing his skin, tasting the salt and heat of him, while Idris begins to move—deep, steady strokes that make Theo tremble between us.
“Knot,” Theo mumbles, the word almost lost. “Please—knot—”
Idris' rhythm stays measured even as his knot begins to swell. He leans over Theo, one hand braced on the nest, the other sliding under Theo’s jaw so he can see his face.
“Color,” Idris asks, voice low and rough.
Theo tries to answer, but the word never forms. A low hum moves through him instead, his eyes half-open and unfocused as he presses farther back against me. I feel the change in him through every place we touch. This isn’t the rigid silence that takes him when fear closes his throat.
His body is loose, his breathing heavy and even between the little sounds Idris keeps drawing from him, his attention narrowed until it seems to live entirely in the hands holding him and the Alpha inside him.
Idris notices before I can say anything. He stops pushing forward and keeps himself exactly where he is, one hand leaving Theo’s jaw to find his fingers against the blanket. “You’re dropping, sweetheart,” he says softly. “That’s okay. I’m not making you come back up. I just need your word.”
Theo’s lashes flutter. His mouth opens once more, but nothing comes except another quiet hum.
“Use my hand.” Idris folds two fingers into Theo’s palm. “One squeeze for green. Two for yellow. Three for red.”
Theo’s fingers close once around him and Idris waits. Theo squeezes, deliberate enough that there’s no mistaking the answer. Then he turns his face into my shoulder and goes loose against me again.
“Green,” Idris confirms. His voice stays low enough that Theo doesn’t have to climb out of where his head’s at to follow it. “You can stay right there. We’ve got the words.”
Idris pushes deeper as his knot stretches Theo open and locks into place with a final, firm thrust. Theo cries out, his body tightening, his hands scrabbling for purchase on Idris' arms and my hip.
For a moment, the three of us stay like that, Theo’s ragged breathing the only sound in the room. Then he turns his head just enough to look at Idris, his eyes still glazed over but this time full of certainty.
“I want to be yours too,” he says, voice small but clear. “No more temporary bites. I want this. You’re mine too, Alpha.”
Idris' expression softens. “Gladly,” he answers.
He lowers his mouth to the temporary mark at Theo’s shoulder.
Theo turns his head to give him full access, and Idris bites into the same place, replacing the fading protection with something permanent.
Theo cries out as the permanent bond snaps into place.
Relief floods through my connection to Idris, and the last hard edge of Theo’s spike begins to ease.
Idris holds him through it, hips giving only the smallest movements to keep the knot seated while Theo shakes and clings.
I stay right there, kissing the unbitten side of Theo’s neck, stroking his hair, his chest, the trembling line of his arm, murmuring soft nonsense against his skin until the worst of the trembling eases.
We remain tangled together while Idris’ knot slowly softens. Idris' hand finds mine over Theo’s heart. Theo’s fingers stay laced with both of ours. The spike drains away by degrees while we stay wrapped around Theo.
Only when Theo’s body goes fully loose and his breathing has evened does Idris carefully ease the knot free. He gathers both of us against him, pressing a lingering kiss first to my fresh mark, then to Theo’s.
The bathwater turns pale pink around my new bite before Idris rinses it away.
I sit between his legs with my back against his chest, one hand pressed carefully over the tender place where his teeth entered my shoulder.
The mark throbs beneath my palm, but the pain is threaded through with something deeper: Idris moving inside me in a way I have never felt before.