Fuck.
Beside him, Dante made a low sound and quickly adjusted the front of his pants.
For a long, stupid moment, neither of them could do anything but stare. Two Alphas, one bonded and one whatever-Riot-was, standing in a doorway with their higher brain functions temporarily on holiday.
Then Cass pulled back, his face flushing as awareness caught up with instinct.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, hands flying to his chaotic hair. “That was inappropriate, and I’m not even dressed, and this is so spiritually untidy—”
Riot moved before he could think about it, crossing to catch Cass’s hands. The touch seemed to ground him—Cass’s skin was warm, his pulse fluttering at his wrist. Real. Here. His.
Not yours.
“You’re fine,” Riot said, ignoring his own internal argument. He was getting good at that. Possibly too good. “No one cares.”
“But I just smelled him without asking—”
“It’s fine,” Orion managed, letting out a small laugh. “Really. You just keep catching me off guard with that.”
Don’t think about Cass scenting Orion. Don’t think about Cass scenting Orion…
Dante’s hand landed on the back of Orion’s neck. The gesture sent a spike of something through Riot’s chest—envy, maybe. The easy certainty of it. The right to touch like that, to claim publicly, without the accompanying terror that he might accidentally destroy what he was holding.
“You okay?” Dante asked.
“I’m fine. Get off me.”
“You’re flushed.”
“Because your hand is on my neck like I’m a disobedient puppy. Move.”
Dante’s grip tightened instead. “Make me.”
Orion elbowed him in the ribs. “I said move, asshole.”
Cass flinched.
“Hey,” Riot said sharply. “Tone it down.”
They turned to look at him.
“The language,” he clarified, pulling Cass closer. “He’s not used to it.”
“Right. Sorry.” Orion’s expression shifted to understanding. “Elysian thing?”
“Raised voices and harsh words meant spiritual misalignment,” Cass said softly, looking at the ground as he squeezed Riot’s hand. “It’s hard to hear, even when I know it doesn’t mean the same thing here.”
“We’ll try to keep it clean,” Dante said. “No promises.”
They settled onto Lilac’s worn couch, Dante’s arm draping over Orion’s shoulders. Riot guided Cass to the other end, keeping him close, hyperaware of everywhere they touched. The warmth of Cass’s thigh against his. The weight of Cass leaning into his side. The want that wouldn’t stop pulsing under his skin, patient and relentless, like a headache that had been promoted to a permanent position.
“Where I am from,” Cass said slowly, watching Dante and Orion with the expression of someone observing an entirely new species, “I’ve never seen bonded partners speak to each other like that.”
“Fighting is foreplay for him,” Dante mused, reaching for Orion’s hand.
Orion jerked his hand back and elbowed Dante in the ribs again. “Shut the—” He caught himself, glancing at Cass. “Be quiet, Dante.”
Cass’s brow furrowed. “What’s foreplay?”
