He relaxes with a small sound—half whimper, half trust—and I hold him for another second before slipping from the bed.
The room is dim and quiet now, filled with the soft rhythm of their breathing, the faint hum of the city beyond the windows, and the echo of what we just shared still hanging thick in the air.
I head into the bathroom, my steps quiet against the tile.The towel I left earlier is right where I put it—folded, soft, ready.I grab it, then run warm water over two washcloths.The steam rises slowly, comforting.My fingers tighten on the edge of the sink as I wait for the cloths to soak through.
They deserve care.Warmth.Every quiet, steady second after.They let me in.They gave me everything tonight—Barret with his body open and trembling, Cleo offering herself with that soft smile that always unravels me.And I won’t let either of them feel like they were just used and left in the mess.
I wring out the cloths just enough to keep the heat and return to the bed.
Barret lifts his head slightly when I begin to clean him.I cradle one cheek in my palm, pressing a kiss just behind his ear as I gently wipe between his thighs, my other hand bracing low on his stomach.
“You’re perfect,” I murmur.“You know that?”
He lets out a low breath, nearly a sob.His fingers find my forearm, squeezing like he’s holding on to more than just me—like he’s holding on to the truth in my words.
I lean closer, kissing the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, then lower, along the curve of his throat.His pulse is quick under my lips.He tilts toward me, eyes fluttering closed, and I feel the tremor in his chest.
“I meant it,” I whisper against his skin.“You’re mine.You’ve always been mine.”
His voice breaks on a shaky exhale.“I don’t deserve this.”
I hush him with another kiss, slow and deep, lingering until he melts into it, until he believes me the only way he knows how—by surrendering to it.My thumb brushes along his ribs, grounding him as I press my forehead to his.
“You deserve more than I can ever give,” I tell him, breathing the words into the space between us.“But I’ll spend every day trying.I love you.”
His eyes shine, raw and open, and I hold him there for another heartbeat, letting him see everything I don’t always say out loud.
Only then do I pull back, smoothing damp hair from his face before turning to her.
Cleo watches me with that look she gets when she’s trying not to cry—chin tilted up, eyes shimmering, mouth soft with love.I clean her just as gently, careful not to overstimulate, murmuring quiet words the whole time.Her hand catches mine halfway through and holds it to her chest.
“I love you,” she says simply.
“I know.”I smile and lean down, kissing her belly, her sternum, her lips.“I love you more.”
Barret makes a sleepy, stubborn sound.“Impossible.”
I laugh.“Then we’ll have to test that theory.”
They’re both soft now, loose and sated, lying against the pillows like a tangle of limbs and breath.Cleo shifts first, rolling onto her side, and her hand drifts across Barret’s chest.She traces slow, lazy circles over his skin, nails grazing just enough to make him sigh.He turns into her touch immediately, like he needs it to breathe, forehead resting against hers.She smiles faintly, brushing her thumb along the curve of his jaw.He catches her fingers and brings them to his lips, kissing them in thanks, in promise.
I sit back on my heels, watching them.This is what I wanted to see—the two of them not just spent, but connected.Touching because they want to, not because I told them to.My throat tightens.
I lean forward, running my palm over both of them at once, my hand spanning Barret’s stomach and Cleo’s hip.“Touch each other,” I whisper.“Just like this.”
They do.Cleo’s hand slides higher over his chest.Barret’s arm curls around her waist, holding her closer.
“I want you to always touch each other when I’m not here,” I say, my voice thick, almost breaking.“When I am too.But ...I need to know you’ll take care of each other.”
Barret lifts her wrist and presses a slow kiss to the inside of it.“We do,” he murmurs.
“We will,” she adds, her voice sleep-soft, eyes still on him.
I stroke my thumb along Barret’s ribs, then down the back of Cleo’s thigh.“Good,” I murmur, letting the word settle over them.“That’s what I want.Right there.”
My throat tightens.I can’t stay above them any longer—I need to be inside the warmth they’ve created, tangled up in them.
I ease into the bed between them, careful not to break their hold on each other.Barret shifts immediately, pressing into my side, his leg hooking over mine like it belongs there.Cleo sighs and curls into my chest, her breath brushing warm against my skin.
