He kisses up my stomach, my chest, stopping just long enough to make my breath hitch until Carter’s fingers thread with mine, holding me steady as Tate devours me like he’s starving.
He’s is everywhere all at once hands gripping my hips, mouth dragging moans from me like he needs them more than oxygen. He doesn’t rush, every kiss is deep, consuming. Every word from his mouth is filth wrapped in obsession.
Carter moves in slow, tender. Every sigh meant to ground me while Tate sets me on fire.
When they finally work together, Carter’s mouths praise against my ear and Tate groans“Ours.”against my thigh. It’s trust, in its purest, filthiest form.
When I come, it’s Carter whispering“sweetheart”and Tate muttering“again”like he’ll never get enough. I don’t know how long it lasts.
Eventually we’re settled down, something plays on my tv but I’m too tired to care. Carter’s kissing my shoulder and Tate’s hand tangled in my hair. My body spent, my soul quiet. In the stillness that follows, Carter mumbles into my neck: “Next time, you’re getting the pillow fight rematch.”
Tate groans. “I swear to god, you’re a literal puppy.”
They fall asleep before I do, their breathing slow and steady as I slip out quietly, leaving the bathroom door cracked just enough to let in a sliver of light.
I wash my face, the cool water a small relief. When I look at myself in the mirror, I almost don’t recognize the softness there. Back in the room, they haven’t moved. Tate’s on his side, curled slightly toward the middle of the bed, and Carter’s stretched out on his back.
I slip between them carefully, trying not to disturb either one, but Tate shifts anyway, tucking his arm around me.
I wake once, maybe an hour later, when the room’s gone quiet. Tate’s shifted closer in his sleep, one leg thrown protectively over mine, his breath warm on the back of my neck. Carter’s hand is still resting on my stomach. I don’t think about chat logs, or brackets, or exes with shitty usernames. I just think about this moment, this breath, this heartbeat caught between theirs.
18
Carter
Iroll out of bed as quietly as I can, careful not to wake Haven.
She didn’t sleep easy last night. I felt her stir a few times. Once, near dawn, she sat up for a minute, just breathing in the dark. I kept still, pretended to be asleep. I could tell she needed space to fight it off herself.
Now, in the quiet light of morning, she looks peaceful again—finally. The kind of peace I don’t ever want to mess with. I should get up, start the day, do something productive… but I just lie there for a minute, watching her breathe.
It’s probably a little obsessive, the way I memorize every tiny detail—the way her hair fans across the pillow, the small furrow between her brows even in sleep. Eventually, I drag myself away from it, slipping out of bed and crossing the room to grab the clothes I laid out last night. Jeans, hoodie, the one I know she likes seeing me in. I pull them on slowly as I glance back at the bed.
By the time I reach the kitchen, Tate has dragged himself into the kitchen. He doesn’t speak, just pours coffee and leans on the counter beside me. We stand there drinking in silence.
“She’s out still?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
He nods, and that’s it. Just the two of us breathing the same space. I glance at him, then back at my cup. “You didn’t sleep much did you?”
“Didn’t need to.”
The silence stretches, but I don’t mind it this time. I just want to keep things steady.
He sets his cup down with more force than necessary, bracing himself on the counter.Shit, something’s brewing in him. I don’t have a chance to say anything before he does first.
“Be honest Carter, since being here do you think I’m still gonna hurt her?”
“No,” I pause. “I thinkwe bothcould. Without trying.”
He sighs. “She’s the only thing that feels fuckingrightright now,” he mutters. “I’m terrified I’m gonna wake up and she’ll want me gone, you know? I have been fucking trying my hardest, and that in itself is a fucking miracle, you fucking know this Carter.”
His voice cracks just a little, his guard slips for half a second before slamming back into place. He shakes his head, eyes narrowing. “I won’t lose her, Carter. Even if it means I’m not the one winning.”
It’s the closest thing to vulnerable he’s said to me in a long time.
“I don’t want her feeling like she has to keep us both happy just to hold this together. I want her to feelsafe.” I say quietly.
