Quentin'slaughpullsmehalfway out of sleep, quiet enough that it takes a second to register as real. I crack one eye open. He's sitting on the edge of the nest, already dressed in his hoodie and jeans, lacing his shoes with a kind of alertness that makes me want to throw a pillow at him. Nobody should be that functional before the sun is fully up. How are we even twins?
"Going to grab bagels," he says, catching my squint. "Iris has been up since five, working on something. Figured she could use food."
I mumble a response that's mostly vowels and bury my face deeper into the pillow. The nest is warm, blankets layered in that specific way Iris arranges them, and I don’t want to move an inch. My nest is great but hers? Yeah, I’m not moving.
I roll over onto my back and let the quiet settle. I should get up and shower and brush my teeth and do something productive with the early hours of my day. Instead, I close my eyes andlet the nest pull me back under for another few minutes. That's when the heat hits.
It starts low in my stomach, a slow curl of warmth that spreads outward through my hips and down my thighs. My skin prickles, every nerve ending going sensitive at once, the blankets against my bare legs suddenly too much and not enough. I shift against the mattress, slick gathering between my thighs before I register what's happening, soaking through my shorts and into the sheets beneath me.
My eyes fly open to an empty nest and I'm lying here leaking slick all over her carefully arranged blankets like my body has decided to stage a full rebellion against my dignity.
A high, needy whine escapes my throat before I can stop it, the kind of sound I haven't made since my last heat six months ago. My hips roll against the mattress on their own, chasing friction that isn't there, my cock already hard and aching in my shorts. The scent pouring off me is thick enough to taste, honey and sunshine flooding the room in waves that I couldn't mask if I tried.
This isn't a full heat. I know that much. The suppressants I've been on since sophomore year keep those locked down to twice a year, scheduled and managed and never,everallowed to interfere with football season. But something is off. Something has knocked the calibration loose, and my body is overcorrecting.
Shit. Fuck. Holy fuck, I need a knot.
I grab the nearest blanket and yank it over my lap the moment I hear footsteps in the hallway, which does absolutely nothing to hide the scent currently announcing my situation to the entire apartment.
Iris appears in the doorway, a mug in her hand, the Alpha only dressed in an oversized shirt and shorts. "Everything okay? Yourbrother went out for bagels. Said we needed to..." She trails off. Her nostrils flare, her pupils dilating as my scent reaches her.
"I'm sorry." My voice comes out wrecked, scraped raw with embarrassment. "I don't know what's happening. I'm on suppressants, this shouldn't be—"
Another whine cuts through the sentence, my body arching off the mattress as a fresh wave of slick soaks through the blanket I'm clutching. "Fuck." I press the heels of my hands against my eyes. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I'm ruining your nest—"
"Stop apologizing." Iris sets the mug on the dresser. Her scent deepens, the vanilla going warm and rich, thick enough to coat the back of my throat, and my body responds to it so fast my hips jerk against the mattress.
She stops at the edge of the nest, looking down at me. "Have you ever been with a female Alpha?"
I shake my head. My hands fist in the blankets again, my knuckles white, every nerve ending on fire. Even with how many times we’ve been together, I’ve never fucked Iris. I’ve thought about it. Countless times. We just hadn’t got there yet.
"It's a completely different experience." Her fingers find my hair, combing through the waves, her nails dragging lightly against my scalp. The touch sends a full-body shudder through me, my toes curling into the sheets. "And I promise you it's going to feel good."
She leans down and kisses me, her hand moving to cradle the back of my head. I melt into it immediately, the tension in my body reorganizing itself around her mouth, her scent, and her fingers against my skin. A sound comes out of me that I'd be mortified by under any other circumstances, something needy and raw that she swallows without hesitation.
She undresses me slowly, peeling my damp shirt over my head, sliding my shorts down my legs, her hands running along my skin like she's learning the shape of me all over again. I'mshaking by the time she's done, my breath coming in short, desperate pulls, my cock leaking against my stomach.
Then she pulls her own shirt off, her shorts following, and climbs over me. Her thighs settle on either side of my hips, her weight pinning me to the nest, and when she sinks down onto me I come immediately.
The orgasm rips through me so hard my vision whites out. My back arches off the mattress, my hands flying to her hips, a broken sound tearing out of my chest. And then she does something I've never felt before. She tightens around me, a deep internal squeeze that locks me inside her, and the orgasm doesn't stop. It extends, stretching out in waves, pulsing through me until I can't tell where one ends and the next begins.
"Oh my fucking god." My voice comes out wrecked, barely recognizable. "Oh my — what is — Iris—"
"Female Alphas have a lock." Her voice comes out a little strained, her thighs flexing around me. "Instead of a knot. Different mechanic." She rolls her hips, just slightly, and the sensation of her squeezing around my oversensitive cock makes my eyes roll back. "Same result."
"Why didn't anyone tell me about this?" I'm gripping her hips hard enough to leave marks, my whole body trembling beneath her. "This should be in textbooks. This should be a mandatory curriculum. This should—"
"Milo." She leans down, her braids falling around us like a curtain, her mouth brushing mine. "I'm going to fuck myself on your cock, and you're going to give me everything." Her lips curve against mine. "Aren't you?"
I nod so fast I nearly headbutt her.
She starts moving, riding me in slow rolls, her hands braced on my chest. I reach up, my palms finding her breasts, my thumbs brushing over her nipples as her rhythm builds. Her head tipsback, her lips parting around a moan that starts low in her throat and climbs.
"Fuck, you feel good." The words come out breathless, her composure cracking around the edges as she grinds down harder. Her hands cover mine, pressing my palms tighter against her skin. "Right there. Don't stop."
I couldn't stop if I wanted to. My hips are rolling up to meet hers, finding the rhythm she's set, my body operating on pure instinct while my brain tries to keep up with the fact that this is actually happening. Iris Delacroix is riding me in her nest and making sounds that are going to live in my head rent-free for the rest of my natural life.
Her breathing goes ragged, her movements losing their precision as she gets closer, her thighs shaking on either side of me. She falls forward, catching herself on her forearms, her forehead pressing against mine. I feel her lock pulse around me and it sends me right to the edge again, my fingers digging into her skin.
