Page 17 of Petrified

I reach around and wrap my hand over Lev’s on Rowan’s cock again so we’re both working him. Lev’s head falls back against my shoulder. His mouth is open, forked tongue visible, yellow eyes half-lidded and glowing faintly in the low light. The haze has him completely now—his magic is no longer just reaching; it’s drinking from both of us, steady and voracious.

“Amand,” he gasps. “Harder—please—”

I give him harder. Still careful of the angle, still keeping the motion centered so nothing jars Rowan, but deeper, sharper thrusts that make Lev’s thighs shake. He comes first with a sharp, punched-out cry, body locking tight around me, hand flying up to brace against Rowan’s uninjured shoulder. The clench of him pulls me over the edge right after him; I bury myself as deep as I can and spill inside him with a low groan, teeth grazing the side of his neck.

Rowan lasts maybe three more strokes of our joined hands before he follows, spilling hot over Lev’s fingers and my own with a rough, almost pained sound. Lev keeps stroking him through it, slower now, until Rowan is twitching and oversensitive.

For a long moment the only sound in the room is the three of us trying to remember how to breathe.

I ease out of Lev carefully and help him lift off Rowan’s lap so he can collapse sideways onto the mattress instead of onto Rowan’s chest. Lev goes boneless the second he’s horizontal, one arm flung across his eyes, chest still heaving. I grab a discarded shirt from the floor and clean us up with minimal coordination, then stretch out on Lev’s other side.

Rowan is stretched out on the bed with one arm over his eyes while Lev lies between us, warm and loose in a way he hasn’t been since the petrification. I’m on my side facing him with one hand resting low on his stomach, and Rowan keeps his other hand on Lev’s thigh while all three of us come down slowly.

Lev turns his head toward me after a few quiet minutes. “Before either of you says anything, that didn't count as Rowan doing something strenuous. I did most of the work.” Rowan shifts his arm just enough to look at him, and Lev immediately points. “Your opinion is invalid. You were medically compromised.”

“You’re making up rules again,” Rowan says, but there’s no heat in it. Lev shifts one leg across mine and sinks deeper into the mattress, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who spent the last day threatening bodily harm every time Rowan stood without permission.

I drag my fingers once over Lev’s stomach and feel something beneath his skin that makes me pause. His magic is usually restless after sex, especially lately, flickering with the bond or reacting to touch before he can control it, but right now there’s none of that uneven movement.

Lev catches me staring and follows my attention to the hand on his stomach. “What are you doing? Because if this is another medical inspection, I would like it noted that I’m not the one who tried to become architecture.”

“Your magic feels different.” I flatten my palm against him and let mine brush closer, waiting for the usual twitch or accidental shift. “It’s steadier than it normally is after this.”

“That sounds suspiciously like a compliment.” Lev looks down at my hand again, then back at me. “Be careful. I might start expecting those.”

Rowan rolls onto his side more carefully and settles his hand against Lev’s hip. “He’s right. Usually you’re still flickering afterward, especially if one of us touches you.”

Lev looks between us with immediate offense. “I prefer to think of it as enthusiasm. Flickering makes me sound defective.”

“It isn’t happening now,” I tell him, letting my magic press against his again while he pays attention this time. “You’re holding steady.”

The joking eases out of his face as he concentrates on the feeling beneath my hand. Rowan’s magic brushes his from the other side, and instead of Lev’s signature jumping toward one of us or shifting unpredictably, it settles between both with almost no effort.

“Okay.” Lev frowns and presses his own hand against his stomach like that will somehow help him feel it better. “That is weird.”

“Try Rowan’s signature,” I say, and his head immediately turns toward me with the same expression he gets whenever somebody starts sounding too much like Gerald.

“You’re very bossy for a man who just got everything he wanted.” Lev keeps glaring for another second before curiosity wins anyway. “Fine, but if this gives me a headache, I’m blaming you.”

The change comes almost immediately. Lev’s scent shifts cleanly toward Rowan’s without the messy overlap or hesitation he usually fights through, and Rowan’s fingers still against his hip before Lev even opens his eyes.

Lev looks from him to me. “Did that actually work?”

“Fast,” Rowan says, keeping his hand where it is. “Usually you have to work harder than that.”

“And concentrate until my brain feels like somebody stirred it with a fork.” Lev pushes himself up a little on one elbow. “I don’t even feel tired.”

I move my hand higher along his stomach. “Try mine.”

He gives me another look, but he doesn’t waste time arguing now. A second later, my own signature rolls back at me from his skin clearly enough that I can separate it from Rowan’s without any effort.

Lev’s brows pull together as he looks down at himself. “That used to take longer too. I don’t know whether to be impressed or deeply suspicious.”

“Both are probably reasonable.” Rowan shifts closer without putting pressure on his healing ribs. “When I was petrifying, your magic adapted around mine, and now it’s copying both of us more easily after being connected to us.”

Lev turns his head toward him. “You make that sound very clinical for something that involved considerably less clothing.”

I rub my thumb once over his side before he can derail the thought completely. “The point is your magic was strained after what happened yesterday. Now it’s steadier than I’ve felt it in weeks, and mimicking us isn’t taking the same effort.”