Orion laughed as he elbowed him. “Calm down, I’m just kidding. How would that even work?”
Cass breathed a sigh of relief and leaned into him.His face found the place against Orion’s neck that it had found on the worst night of his life, and Orion’s arms came around him, stiff for two seconds and then not.
“When Honey and I were kids,” Cass said, his voice muffled against Orion’s skin, “when things were hard or we were sick, we used to just hold each other. It always made me feel better, so I hope you don’t mind….”
“Nah, it’s fine…still a bit weird for me.” Orion’s hand settled on his back. “I never bothered with all the Omega-to-Omega comfort stuff, but it’s not terrible.”
They stayed like that, skin against skin, just enjoying the strange closeness of another person knowing exactly how he felt without feeling like he was in danger or going to get in trouble. It was just Orion. They weren’t terribly close, but Cass liked to think they were friends, and cuddling in general was one of his favorite activities.
“You know,” Orion said after a while, “if someone had told me a year ago that I’d be cuddling a former Elysian missionary in a greenhouse during a synchronized heat, I would have suggested they see a medical professional.”
“Do you like how things have changed? Your life since you bonded with Dante?” Cass asked, stretching his legs out as the heat pulsed under his skin. He pressed his face against Orion’s neck, closing his eyes. It didn’t make him less warm, but it made him care a little less about the building discomfort and that was good enough.
Orion was quiet for a beat, his hand on Cass’s back, his chin resting on Cass’s head. “Yeah,” he said. “I like it.”
The greenhouse door slammed open and the two scents hit Cass like a wall. Strawberries, cream, and cordite—Riot, close, audibly breathing hard—and next to it, rich and dark black tea and cherries. Cass peeked up for a moment, immediately clocking the gold in Riot’s eyes, his hands at his sides, standing very still in a way that said he was about to pounce. Dante stood beside him, looking smaller next to a Berserker, breathing just as hard, but he looked delighted. Whatever the man had looked like when he’d worked for Gensyn was long gone.
“Oh,” Dante said. His voice dropped about an octave. “Oh.This is—”
“Don’t,” Orion snapped.
“I was just going to say—”
“I know what you were going to say. Don’t say it.”
“I haven’t said anything yet.”
“You’re thinking it loud enough that I can hear it from here.” Orion still hadn’t moved. “Whatever filthy thing just crossed your mind, keep it there.”
Dante’s eyes were moving between Orion and Cass with the kind of unhurried attention that made Cass’s neck feel warm. “I’m simply observing that this is a very attractive arrangement—”
“Dante,” Riot growled, “if you finish that sentence, I’m going to break something you need.”
“I was complimenting your Omega.”
“Stop complimenting my Omega.”
“Both of them, actually. The composition is quite—”
“Dante.“ Riot’s hands balled into fists.
Dante held up his hands in surrender, but the delight in his eyes didn’t change. He leaned toward Riot and said something low—too low for Cass to catch, but he saw Riot’s reaction: a jerk of his head, a sharp exhale through his nose, and then a very precise “Go fuck yourself, Ashford” that made Dante smile in a way that was all teeth and no apology.
Orion groaned. “What did he suggest?”
“You don’t want to know,” Riot said.
“I suggested something perfectly reasonable involving mutual observation and—”
“He suggested a foursome,” Riot said flatly.
“I suggested anarrangement,“ Dante corrected, as he walked over to them with Riot.
“He’s a pervert,” Riot told Cass. “He was a pervert when he worked for Gensyn and he’s a pervert now. Ignore him.”
Dante kneeled down beside Orion, cocking his head like he was admiring a piece of art. “I’m not a pervert. I’m a man with sophisticated interests in—”
Orion reached up and grabbed Dante’s face, his palm flat against his mouth, fingers pressing into his cheek. “Stop. Talking.”
