"Come for me," I manage, the words barely a whisper. "Please, Iris."
She comes with her mouth pressed against my throat, a low, shattered groan vibrating against my skin as her whole body tightens. The lock clenches hard enough to pull me over with her, the second orgasm slamming into me before the aftershocks of the first have fully faded. I wrap my arms around her, holding her against my chest as we both shake through it, her breath hot and uneven against my neck.
She goes boneless on top of me, her weight settling against my chest. For a long moment neither of us moves. Her lock releases slowly, the tension easing in gradual increments as she hums against my collarbone.
"How close is your heat?" she asks, her voice lazy against my skin.
I shrug beneath her. "I take suppressants for it. Can't miss football. I just think..." I trail off, my cheeks burning. "Being here with you kind of put everything into overdrive."
She lifts her head, her dark eyes finding mine, and presses a kiss to my forehead. "Ah, well, now you know I can help with the spikes.” Iris rolls over to her side, my cock slipping out of her. My gaze dips to her thighs where my release is coating her skin, my cock still half-hard and begging for another round but I’m not hot anymore.
“Um...”
Iris snorts. “Hey, it’s just biology, Milo and besides, I really,really,” she drags me into another kiss, nibbling on my bottom lip. “liked it.” My stomach takes that moment to growl and she just chuckles. “But maybe we can talk logistics with clothes on and bagels. There's an extra towel in the bathroom."
I extract myself from the nest, glad for the out she just gave me, my legs not fully cooperating as I stumble over to the connected bathroom. The door clicks shut behind me and I lean against it, pressing the back of my head against the wood, staring at the ceiling while my heartbeat attempts to return to something resembling normal.
Holy shit. I just fucked Iris.
Well, she fucked me but semantics.
And she’s got a lock. Why did no one say that they have a lock? Like a knot is delicious but a lock? I thought I died and went to heaven. 10 out of 10. Will do again.
The shower helps. The steam gives me a few minutes of solitude to process the fact that I just had the best sex of my life and also ruined at least two of Iris' blankets. My Omega brain is caught in a loop between bliss and mortification, which is a combination I'm intimately familiar with. However, I need to figure out what just happened.
Because as much as I want it to happen again, the uncontrolled heat spikes can’t happen again.
The moment I step out of the shower, I search for my bag and find my suppressant case. I pop the cap and count the pills, then check the calendar on my phone. My stomach drops.
I missed yesterday’s. Just one, but apparently one is enough for my body to stage a full insurrection when surrounded by Alpha pheromones twenty-four hours a day. A quick search on my phone confirms what I suspected. One missed dose won't trigger a full heat. My body is just trying to self-regulate, overcorrecting for the lapse. Nothing dangerous. Just deeply, profoundly embarrassing.
I pop two for good luck, swallowing them dry, and then head back into the bathroom realizing the next problem.Clothes.
Everything I was wearing is soaked with slick, and Quentin took his bag when he left for bagels. I stand in the bathroom wrapped in a towel, weighing my options, before cracking the door open and scanning the bedroom. One of Iris' oversized shirts is draped over a chair, long enough to hit me mid-thigh. A pair of her athletic shorts sits folded beneath it.
Good enough.
The shirt smells like her, vanilla and sandalwood soaking into my skin the moment I pull it on. The shorts are tight but functional. I look ridiculous. I look like I'm wearing my girlfriend's clothes after a walk of shame, which is exactly what's happening, except the walk is from the bathroom to the living room and the shame is entirely self-inflicted.
I pad back to the nest and survey the damage. The blankets I was sleeping on are soaked through with slick and sweat. I strip them out of the nest, bundle them into my arms, and carry them to the washing machine in the hallway closet. The washer starts its cycle and I lean my forehead against it, letting the vibration rattle through my skull for a second.
Well, that's not embarrassing at all.
iris
Iprobablyshouldhavetaken a longer shower but I didn’t want to wash Milo’s scent off completely. Not yet anyway. My body is still humming with pleasure every time I replay the way Milo looked beneath me. The desperation in his grip. The sounds he made when my lock caught on his cock, like he was rediscovering pleasure all over again.
I step out and quickly dry off, searching for my lotion and realize it’s in my bathroom and that I stupidly didn’t supply anything in this one. It’s fine. I’ll just grab whatever I have in the living room. I pull my braids from the ponytail I had them in, a whiff of Milo’s scent hitting my nose. The fantasy of both of themat the same timehits me, my cheeks warming at the image.
The thought has been circling since the first night, gaining detail with every pass, and standing here with the ghost of Milo still pressed against my skin, I have to bite back a moan. God, it would be perfect, Quentin behind me, his hand in my hair, hisvoice in my ear. Milo beneath me, his body giving me everything without reservation. The two of them filling me until there's no room left for the noise.
There’s some grumbling in the hallway when I grab some of the extra clothes in the cabinet, a smile spreading across my lips as I hear ‘stupid, so stupid’ over and over again. No doubt Milo is beating himself up for what just happened so I’ll give him a little space before I embarrass him about it.
My phone buzzes on the bathroom counter. I pick it up expecting Quentin's name and another round of the bagel interrogation he started thirty minutes ago. The man sent me four texts about cream cheese preferences, like it was a hostage negotiation. I told him it didn't matter, and he responded with a bulleted list of reasons why it absolutely did.
Kevin Holloway.
I frown. Kevin doesn't have a reason to call me this early. Actually, Kevin doesn't have a reason to call me ever. I decline and set the phone on the counter, turning back to the mirror to twist my braids into a loose knot.
