Tommy padded back into the bedroom ahead of them, leaving damp footprints across the floor.
“God,” he sighed, flopping onto the bed, “I feel like a human again.”
Logan chuckled, pulling on clean shorts. “You almost died twice in that shower.”
“I slipped once.”
“You grabbed both of us like we were lifeboats.”
“They were emotional lifeboats,” Tommy corrected.
Chase laughed softly, leaning against the dresser as he dried his hair. The room felt different now, calmer, quieter, like the night had settled into something more intentional.
Not chaos.
Not experimentation.
Something chosen.
Tommy stretched across the bed, relaxed in a way Chase hadn’t seen before , open, unguarded, comfortable between them instead of performing for either of them.
The thought came before Chase could overthink it.
“I want to try something,” he said.
Both of them looked at him.
Not wary.
Just curious.
Chase hesitated briefly, choosing his words carefully.
“Nothing big,” he added quickly. “Just… something that stays ours.”
Tommy propped himself up on his elbows. “That sounds mysterious.”
Logan’s attention sharpened slightly, reading tone more than words.
Chase sat on the edge of the bed, closer now but not crowding. “I kept noticing how you relaxed when you felt… held. Like you knew exactly where you belonged.”
Tommy’s expression softened, listening.
“And I liked that,” Chase admitted. “Not controlling. Just… connected.”
Logan nodded faintly, understanding already forming.
Chase exhaled once before continuing.
“I was thinking maybe we give you something small to carry with you when we’re out together,” he said. “A reminder that you’re not alone in the room. That we’re both there with you.”
Tommy tilted his head slightly. “Like what?”
Chase glanced briefly at Logan, a silent check-in.
Logan didn’t look surprised.
Just interested.
