"We can live with that." Amos' hand rests on my back from behind.
My eyes close. The apartment is quiet. Dominic's thumb presses against the bond mark on my neck. The silence holds for long enough that the shift in it is noticeable when it comes, the charge between the three of us changing frequency from something still into something warm.
I turn my head and press my mouth against Dominic's. He makes a low sound against my lips and his hand tightens on my neck. The kiss is slow and unhurried and tastes like the Thai food we had for dinner and the tears I didn't finish crying. When I pull back his eyes are dark and his breathing has changed.
"Not me." I say it quietly. "Him."
Dominic's gaze moves to Amos on the couch behind me. Neither of us has touched him in ten days. We've been so focused on keeping him comfortable that we forgot to make him feel wanted.
"Niah." Amos' voice is careful from the couch. "My ribs are still healing. I can't exactly participate in anything that requires core engagement."
"Then don't engage your core." I turn to face him and his glasses are fogged and his expression is caught between wariness and a decision his mouth hasn't caught up to. "Lie still. Let me do the work."
"The doctor said restricted movement for six to eight weeks. It's been ten days."
"Then I'll be gentle." I climb onto the couch beside him, careful of the left side, and swing my leg over his hips so I'm straddling him without putting weight on his torso. My knees take the load on either side of his waist and my hands brace against the couch cushion behind his head. His pupils blow wide and his scent shifts from the muted flatness of the past ten days into something alive.
"You haven't smelled like that in almost two weeks." I settle lower against him without pressing into his ribs. "I missed it."
"I've been in pain and on opioids. My body hasn't exactly been prioritizing scent production for seduction." His hands find my hips and the grip is tentative, testing what his ribs will allow. "Mattaniah, if I move wrong this is going to hurt in a way that kills the mood permanently."
"Then don't move." I lean down and press my mouth against the hollow of his throat where his pulse is already running fast. "Don't move at all. Just lie there and let me take care of you for once."
Dominic settles onto the floor beside the couch, his back against the base, his face level with Amos'. He reaches up and pulls Amos' glasses off with the same careful precision he uses for everything and sets them on the coffee table. Then his hand curves around the back of Amos' neck and he turns Amos' face toward his and kisses him.
The sound Amos makes into Dominic's mouth is quiet and surprised and nothing like the analytical composure he's maintained since the hospital. Dominic swallows it and giveshim another one, deeper, his thumb tracing the line of Amos' jaw. Amos' hands tighten on my hips and the reflex makes him wince as it pulls his left side but he doesn't stop kissing Dominic and he doesn't let go of me.
I grind down against him slowly and feel him hardening beneath me through the thin fabric of his sweatpants and mine. The friction sends heat pooling low in my stomach and I can feel the slick starting, the warmth between my thighs that used to fill me with shame and now fills me with something closer to power.
"Niah." Amos pulls back from Dominic's mouth long enough to look up at me. His face is flushed and his eyes are wet and unfocused without his glasses. "Are you sure? The pregnancy makes your body more sensitive and if you're doing this because you feel obligated to reciprocate what I did then I need you to stop and tell me that now."
"I'm doing this because you've been lying on this couch for ten days being brave and logical and in pain and nobody has touched you like you matter for anything other than your ribs." I pull my shirt over my head and his gaze drops to my stomach, to the soft curve that's barely visible but that he tracks every time. "I'm doing this because I love you and I know I said it already but I want you to feel it, not just hear it."
Dominic's mouth moves to the side of Amos' neck, pressing against the sensitive skin there, and Amos' eyes flutter shut as the dual sensation hits him through both connections.
I lift my hips enough to push his sweatpants down and mine follow. The slick makes the first press of contact frictionless and warm and Amos' breath catches in a way that has nothing to do with his ribs. I reach between us and guide him inside me, sinking down slowly, taking all of him in one long slide that makes both of us go still.
The bond mark on the right side of my neck pulses with something from Amos that's no longer muted.
"Don't move." I say it again because his hips are already trying to push up and his face tightens with the pull on his ribs. I press my palms flat against the couch on either side of his head. "I told you. Let me do the work."
I move on him slowly, rolling my hips in a rhythm that keeps his body still while mine does everything. The angle is deep and the pregnancy has made my body more responsive in ways that catch me off guard, nerve endings firing brighter, the slick heavier, the pleasure building faster than it used to. My thighs burn with the effort of controlling the pace and my breath comes in short pulls that I don't try to hide.
Dominic's hand slides up from Amos' neck to the back of my head, his fingers threading into my hair without pulling. He's watching me ride his mate with an expression that would be terrifying if I didn't know what it meant. His other hand rests on Amos' chest, gentle over the bandaged ribs, and the three points of contact create a circuit through the bond that makes everything louder.
"Look at him." Dominic says it to Amos, low and rough. "Look at what he's giving you."
Amos' eyes open and find mine above him. What's left behind the analytical distance is a man who let someone break his ribs rather than let them reach me and who is now lying beneath me unable to move while I show him with my body what the words alone couldn't carry.
"You're beautiful." He says it without the qualifier he usually attaches, no data point, no statistical context. "You're so beautiful, Niah."
I lean down and kiss him and the change in angle makes both of us gasp into each other's mouths. Dominic's hand tightens in my hair and his mouth finds the bond mark on the left side of my neck. The press of his lips there while I'm full of Amos sends a shock through the bond that whites out my vision at the edges.
The pace stays slow because it has to. Every roll of my hips is deliberate and controlled and the restraint makes the pleasure sharper instead of less, each movement registering at a depth that rough and fast wouldn't reach. Amos' hands grip my hips and his fingers are shaking and his jaw is locked with the effort of staying still while his body fights against every instinct telling him to thrust up into me. His grip tightens on a downstroke and his face goes white for a second as the left side protests, but his hands don't leave my hips and the sound he makes through his teeth is not a sound that wants me to stop.
"Let go." I press my forehead against his. "You don't have to be the strong one right now. You don't have to calculate anything or analyze anything or protect anyone. Just let go."
The sound he makes is almost inaudible, but catch it because my mouth is close enough to taste his breath. His hands tighten on my hips hard enough to bruise and his eyes squeeze shut and I feel him come inside me with a shudder that runs through his whole body. His ribs make him hiss through his teeth but the rest of him has surrendered.
