I regret nothing.
Mouse is sprawled across the porch railing, tail flicking in the afternoon heat. Walter bobs lazily near the roofline, pulsing soft violet. The two of them have opinions about our annual tradition, but they keep those opinions to themselves.
Mostly.
I’ve just come up from the water. Salt drying on my skin, sun warm on my shoulders, the kind of relaxed that used to feel impossible. My swimsuit is still damp, clinging in ways that would’ve embarrassed me once.
Now I just think about how quickly it’s coming off.
The house is quiet when I push through the front door.
Too quiet.
I know that quiet.
I find them in the living room.
Finn and Malrik.
Already tangled up in each other on the massive couch Aspen built specifically for… group activities.
Finn’s straddling Malrik’s lap, shirt gone, head thrown back as Malrik’s mouth works down his throat. Malrik’s hands are buried in Finn’s wild auburn hair, controlling the angle, controlling everything. The way he always does.
They don’t stop when I walk in.
Malrik’s silver eyes flick to me over Finn’s shoulder. His mouth curves against Finn’s skin. Slow. Knowing.
“Took you long enough,” he murmurs.
Finn twists to look at me. His green eyes are glazed, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and bitten red. Three years together and he still looks at me like I’m the best thing he’s ever seen.
“Hey, Trouble.” His voice is wrecked already. “Enjoy the show?”
I don’t move. Not yet.
I lean against the doorframe and watch.
Because this — watching them — never gets old. The way Finn melts under Malrik’s hands like he was made for it. The way Malrik’s control never wavers, even when Finn’s grinding down in his lap and making those desperate little sounds. The way they fit together like puzzle pieces, three years of practice turning them into something seamless.
Malrik’s hand slides down Finn’s spine. Lower. Grips his ass and pulls him closer.
Finn moans. Loud. Shameless.
“More,” he breathes. “Mal, please—”
“Patience.” Malrik’s voice is silk over steel. “We have an audience.”
Finn looks at me again. Grins. “She likes watching.”
“I know she does.” Malrik’s eyes meet mine. Dark. Hungry. “Don’t you, Nightshade?”
My mouth is dry. “You know I do.”
“Then watch.”
He pulls Finn’s head back by the hair. Exposes his throat. Bites down on the tendon where neck meets shoulder.
Finn’s whole body jerks. “Fuck—”
