Hollis’ hands tighten on his knees and I just shoot him a small glance to stay quiet.
“I know I wanted to come here. I know I wanted the courtyard. I know I wanted you in my nest this morning.” His face colors at that, but he doesn’t turn it into a joke. His thumb drags over the blanket seam. “But I can’t check it the way other people can. I can’t tell myself it’s real because of scent. I don’t have that.”
I sit forward, keeping my hands where he can see them. “Then we don’t ask scent to prove it.”
Jude looks at me sharply, like he wants to reject the answer because it came too easily.
“It won’t always feel easy,” I add. “But it can still be real.”
His eyes stay on mine for a few seconds before they drop to my hand on the mattress. “And if I need things that other people don’t?”
Hollis makes a quiet sound. When Jude looks at him, Hollis' face is open in a way that makes him seem younger. “Then we learn them,” he says. “That’s all.”
I keep my voice even. “You already told us some of them. Hollis’ purr gives you comfort and you prefer it that we’re facing you when we talk. And we only touch where you put it first.”
Jude breathes out slowly. “That sounds like a lot.”
“It’s you,” Hollis says, his voice going rough around the edges. “So it doesn’t feel like a lot.”
Jude looks down quickly, but not fast enough to hide what that does to him and I can see the exact moment he decides not to retreat from what Hollis just gave him.
After a moment, Jude shifts on the bed and looks at Hollis’ chest. “Come here.”
Hollis moves slowly this time, like he understands the invitation is not something to celebrate too loudly. He kneels on the mattress in front of Jude, hands open on his thighs. Jude watches those hands before placing his palm over Hollis’ chest.
Jude’s shoulders sink a fraction. His eyes close, then open again, clearer than before. He reaches for me with his other hand, fingers stopping near my wrist. I meet him halfway, and he draws my hand to his jaw himself.
For a while, that’s all it is. Jude holding both of us in the ways that make sense to him. Hollis' purr under one palm. My hand at his face. My voice quiet when I tell him, “We’re here.”
Jude nods once. “I want more,” he whispers.
Hollis goes very still, but he keeps breathing this time. Jude notices, and something in his expression softens because Hollis is trying so hard not to turn the moment into pressure.
“With both of us?” I ask.
Jude looks at Hollis first. Then at me. “Yes.”
I brush my thumb along his cheek and let that answer be enough. Jude leans into my hand, his palm pressing more firmly against Hollis’ chest as the purr rolls through him. Jude kisses me first, his fingers still wrapped around my wrist like he’s anchoring himself to the touch he chose. I keep my other hand on the mattress where he can see it, resisting the pull to gather him closer before he asks. Jude’s eyes flick down, then back up to my face, and the next kiss has more weight behind it.
Jude pulls back from me and looks at Hollis, our Alpha’s purr breaking a little. Hollis is still kneeling where Jude put him, his shoulders taut from holding himself in place. Our Omega grins as he kisses Hollis next, his purr catching before it finds its rhythm again.
When Jude pulls back, Hollis’ eyes are bright enough that Jude’s face heats immediately.
“Don’t make that face,” Jude says, quieter than usual.
Hollis swallows. “I’m trying not to. You just... I like kissing you.”
I snort, tugging Hollis into a kiss of our own, tasting Jude’s sweetness on my Alpha’s lips. I’m not sure how we waitedthis long. Jude tugs at my shirt, clothes going flying before he tugs me down onto the mattress fully, part of me immediately working to ease Jude’s nerves.
I gently kiss the back of his neck. “You’re here. Hollis is right in front of you and I’m behind you.”
Jude’s lashes lower. Hollis' purr fills the spaces between each sentence. Jude listens to both, his breathing uneven at first and then steadier. He turns his face into my palm, presses his fingers more firmly to Hollis, and makes the next choice without looking away from either of us.
He reaches for Hollis’ hand and puts it at his waist. “I don’t want to feel handled,” he says.
“You won’t be,” I answer.
He twists around and looks at me then, and I understand what he’s asking underneath it. Not for a promise that nothing will scare him. Not for a speech about patience. He wants to know whether he can want this without losing the right to decide what happens to him.
