“Wait,” I say, grabbing her wrist gently. I spit into my hand, then smooth it over her entrance. “Don’t want you getting too sore. Should tell them to grab lube when they come back,” I mutter, but the thought’s gone the second she starts sinking onto me.
Every inch is a slow stretch, a wet glide, until her hips are flush with mine. My head falls back on the pillow.
She starts moving almost immediately, her hands braced on my chest, riding me in quick, desperate rolls. The sound ofher slick meeting my hips is obscene, every bounce making me harder.
I hear the front door open, faint voices in the hall, and then the scent of food—warm bread, roasted meat, something sweet underneath.
The bedroom door opens, and the first thing I see is Levi’s grin—sharp, satisfied, the kind of grin that says he already knows exactly what’s happening in here before his eyes even drop to where Wren is riding me.
Simon follows a step behind, a paper bag in one hand, and as they take in the scene, neither of them looks surprised. They look pleased, as if this is exactly where they expected to find us.
“Hey, baby,” Levi says, his voice low, roughened by something that makes my pulse jump. He steps closer, bracing one hand on the mattress as he leans in to kiss her temple.
She doesn’t slow down, not even when his scent swirls around us—she keeps moving, hips grinding down onto me in quick, messy rolls that make my vision go tight at the edges.
Simon crouches down on her other side, his eyes taking in the flush on her cheeks, the sweat beading at her hairline, the glassiness in her pupils. His voice softens in the way he reserves for patients who are right on the brink of breaking point.
“I know you’re having trouble concentrating, sweetheart, but I’ve got something that’ll help your fever.”
She nods, though it’s a shallow, distracted motion. Her body’s locked into the rhythm she’s found on my cock, the sound of slick between us obscene in the quiet.
Simon sets the bag down within reach and starts pulling out supplies—the sterile crinkle of an IV packet, the muted slosh of a small fluid bag, a small fan, and, thank fuck, a fresh bottle of lube glinting under the light.
“Give me a second and let me flip her,” I tell him, tightening my grip on her waist. My own voice comes out thicker than Iexpect, like my body’s already preparing for the inevitable lock of my knot.
“Don’t stop,” she begs, her voice breaking into something desperate, almost raw. “I’m so close.”
Simon chuckles under his breath, a soft, knowing sound, and steadies her arm without hesitation. “He wouldn’t stop, sweetheart.”
I try to keep my hips still, try to give him room to work without pulling out of her. The restraint costs me—every muscle in my back feels strung tight, my breath catching when her inner walls squeeze around me like she’s trying to pull me deeper.
Simon swabs her inner elbow, efficient and precise, then slides the needle home like he’s done it a thousand times. She flinches, just a twitch, but doesn’t stop moving on me. Hell, if anything, she rocks her hips harder, and I have to bite back a groan.
“This is just fluids,” Simon says, taping the line in place. “Keep you from getting dehydrated. It has some electrolytes and there’s a little bit of antibiotics in here—plusSensurex—to help break your heat.”
Her lashes flutter, her nod slow and drowsy, but the fever-haze in her eyes doesn’t fade. Sweat slips down her temple, catching in the curve of her cheekbone.
“Don’t move your arm,” Simon warns, glancing at me. I reach for one of the scarves tangled on the nightstand and tie it loosely from her wrist to the bedpost—not restraining, just enough to keep her still so the IV won’t pull.
“You did well,” Simon murmurs, leaning in to brush a kiss over her damp cheek.
But I’m right at the edge. My knot’s swelling, the thick pressure locking me deep inside her, each tight roll of her hips milking me closer to the point of no return. “Fuck,” I growl, my fingers digging into the soft flesh at her waist.
From the other side of the bed, Levi’s voice is lazy and smug. “Got food. We can eat later, but for now, come for Beau.”
“Yes—yes—yes,” she gasps, her voice climbing high, breaking apart as her whole body tightens over me.
And when she comes, it’s like being hit head-on—heat flooding every nerve, slick spilling around me in waves, the grip of her pulling every drop out of me until I’m locked inside, pulsing into her with no way out.
My head tips back, a low, guttural sound tearing from my throat as the knot swells to full. I hold her tight against me, her chest to mine, her breath hot against my neck.
We stay like that for long minutes—just breathing, bodies pressed together, my knot keeping us fused while the storm in her body starts to ebb. Her scent shifts subtly, the sharp edge of her heat blunting just enough that I can think past the need to rut. Not much, but enough.
I glance up and catch Levi sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, already digging into a container from the paper bag, watching us like it’s a show. Simon’s sitting on the other side, elbows on his knees, sipping water and looking satisfied in that quiet, clinical way of his.
“You’re easing up,” Simon observes, voice even. “That’s good. Fever’s dropping a little.”
I hum low in my chest, brushing a hand over her back. “She’s still warm, though.”
