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“Not by me.”
With a scowl, she releases my jaw and crosses the room again, heading back over to the closet. She jerks off her boots and tosses them on the floor, then begins to undress fully. Dora’s not going to be the problem in this triad. It’s going to be Bethiah. She’s going to kick and scream all the way because she doesn’t know how to trust.
She’s just going to have to learn.
Dora races back into the room just as Bethiah pulls her tunic off and slings it to the floor as well. “Oh, you’re naked,” Dora exclaims as she clutches a thin tunic to her chest.
“Like what you see?” Bethiah winks at her, and then tosses her head, giving me a challenging look. And even though I want to murder her half the time, I have to admit she’s an absolutely glorious female. The lines of her body are perfection, and I love that she’s muscled and strong. I even love that she’s annoyingly bold. It suits her.
Dora just giggles, her cheeks turning red. She shoves the sleep tunic at Bethiah and then heads into the adjoining lavatory. I pull off my tunic and belt, leaving my trou, and my senses pick up the sounds of rustling clothing from inside the lavatory. She brushes her teeth, and I decide that this is the most awkward part, all of us waiting to climb into bed together.
When she emerges, her cheeks are pink and she won’t look either of us in the eye. “Ready for bed?”
“I’ll be on the outside,” I volunteer. “Since I’ll have to get up before the two of you.” Plus I won’t really mind if my tail hangs off the edge of the narrow bed.
“Then I’ll take the inside,” Bethiah says, now wearing the thin tunic and nothing else. Her nipples are visible through the fabric, along with the scrawling lines of her tattoos against her skin. “Since the fluffit likes to sleep against my back, she can be in the middle.”
Dora just meekly nods.
Bethiah climbs into the bed, and I suspect she’s pushing her ass out deliberately, her tail swaying as she crawls over the mattress to the far side. She flops down on her side, facing the wall, and then pats her flank. “Come on, fluffit. We’re all going to have to sleep on our sides if we want to squeeze three bodies in here.”
With a chuckle, Dora does as she’s bid, fitting herself neatly against Bethiah’s back and sliding her arms around her. Now it’s down to me. I shove back any awkwardness I feel about the situation, about if my prosthetics might be uncomfortable against soft human skin or if I might accidentally crush one of them. We’re a triad. These things need to happen.
So I carefully slide myself into bed next to both of them. It’s definitely a tight fit. There’s no room for me unless I press myself fully against Dora’s smaller frame, and she’s shoved between us. We’re a mixture of limbs and tails and arms that have nowhere to go, and I hold myself stiff, not wanting to disturb.
Dora takes my arm and wraps it around her waist. “Relax, Jamef,” she whispers, patting my hand before putting hers back on Bethiah’s waist.
Relax. Sure. As if my cock isn’t already turning hard in my trou, nestled up against Dora’s rounded backside, and my hand practically rubbing up against the base of Bethiah’s tail.
Gonna be a long night.
Thirty-Five
BETHIAH
This should be more uncomfortable than it is.
My face is practically shoved against the wall, and Dora’s small, warm body is plastered against my backside. Jamef’s heavy hand brushes against the small of my back, and I know he’s got his arm around the human. But there’s something comforting about the squeeze of all three of us in bed together. The heat and warmth of three bodies joined in a common task. It feels…cozy.
I should keffing hate cozy.
But I don’t. I think I’m getting soft. Dora was the start of it, and Jamef is going to finish me off. By the time they’re done breaking me down, I’m just going to be one big, overcooked noodle, limp and useless.
I should get up. I should tell them I can’t sleep with them both breathing on me and ruin the moment. Make them both unhappy with me so we all realize this dumb idea isn’t going to work. That I’m not the right person for one person to put their trust in, much less two. If I was smart, I’d get up right now and activate my ship overrides. Take the keffing thing over and toss them both in the holding cell for making me try to be soft when I’m not.
I don’t get up, though. I’m already weak. Already ruined.
“I think she’s asleep,” Jamef whispers, tapping a finger against my back.
