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There were three beds.
Which, by all accounts, should have been enough. But there were four of them, and that math never worked out well.
Taash got one without question; they were tall enough that any other arrangement would’ve been cruel. Emmrich was offered the second, not because he asked, but because no one dared suggest otherwise. Even half-asleep, the man exuded dignity like a perfume.
That left the third.
Lucanis stood beside it a moment longer than necessary, watching as Rook turned back the blanket on one side without a word. Not inviting. Not resisting. Just... inevitable.
He slid in beside her, stiff-backed and careful, keeping to the edge like she might burn him. The mattress dipped under his weight, shifting just enough to press their bodies closer than either of them had planned.
The heat of her was a living thing under the blanket, and every time their legs accidentally brushed, he flinched like she'd drawn a blade.
He turned onto his side to face away. It didn’t help. It was too warm. It was too quiet.
And she was very, very close.
“Lucanis?” came her whisper in the dark.
He didn’t move. “Yes?”
A beat.
“… Are you awake?”
He turned his head just enough to side-eye her. “No, Rook. This is how I snore now.”
A tiny, embarrassed laugh escaped her. “Right. Sorry. I just… wasn’t sure.”
“I answered you.”
“I thought you might’ve talked in your sleep.”
The unspoken “I thought it was Spite” hung between them. Lucanis huffed, and for a moment, silence returned.
Then:
“This is… weird, right?” she asked quietly.
He glanced at her again. She was still turned toward him now, half-visible in the moonlight slipping through the slats in the shutters. Her eyes were open, bright, and clearly trying not to look anywhere below his collarbone.
“Yes,” he said. “Unquestionably.”
“I could… uhm… take the floor?”
That nearly broke him.
“No!” he said, too fast. Then, softer: “Absolutely not.”
Rook blinked. “It wouldn’t be--”
“You are not sleeping on the floor,” he insisted. “You are not some stray we brought in off the street.”
The corner of her mouth twitched.
“Viago might say different,” she said.
He risked turning onto his side to face her. Close, now. Very close. Her breath caught, and he felt it - soft and quick and shallow - between them.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m not trying to make it weird.”
“You’re not,” he murmured. Then chuckled under his breath. “Well. Perhaps a little.”
Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of the blanket between them. He watched them, watched how her hand kept edging closer to his, hesitating, retreating, then drifting close again like a tide.
She bit her lip. “This is going to sound stupid, but… have you ever… shared a bed with someone before?”
He blinked. “You mean like this?”
“Yeah.”
“… No.”
“Oh.”
A beat.
“Me neither.”
Their eyes met.
Something shifted.
Her hand brushed his.
He didn’t pull away.
Her fingers lingered - awkward, unsure, but there. Her gaze darted between his eyes and his mouth. The heat that had been simmering in him for weeks roared up all at once, and he swallowed hard, trying to push it down.
“If we do this,” he said softly, “it can’t be a mistake.”
“It’s not,” she said immediately. Then flushed. “I mean-- I don’t think it would be. Not if… not with you.”
He leaned in, slower than he ever had in his life, and kissed her.
It was careful. Gentle. Awkward, at first - her nose bumped his, and he wasn’t quite sure where to put his hand - but then she sighed, and her fingers curled against his tunic, and it was suddenly so easy to fall into the softness of her.
She was warm and sweet and trembling just enough to let him know he wasn’t alone in this.
When he broke the kiss, her cheeks were flushed, and her voice was barely a whisper.
“I… I want this. But I don’t-- I haven’t done this much.”
Lucanis’s heart stuttered.
“I haven’t either,” he said, truth curling like smoke in the quiet.
“Oh.” She looked at him, startled. “Really?”
“I’m very good at pretending I’m not a mess,” he said dryly. “But I assure you. I am.”
She grinned - nervous and relieved - and her hand slid up to cup his jaw. Her thumb brushed over the corner of his mouth like she wasn’t sure what she was doing, only that she wanted to do something.
Lucanis dipped his head, kissing her again. Slower now. Deeper. And when her fingers moved down to his stomach, hesitant but wanting, he let out a low breath and guided her hand lower.
When she found him, hard and twitching beneath the wool of his trousers, she froze.
“Sorry,” she whispered, clearly startled.
“Don’t be,” he rasped.
“I just-- I wasn’t sure what to…”
“You’re doing fine.”
Her hand curled around him, uncertain at first, then with more confidence as she watched his face. Lucanis groaned under his breath and kissed her harder, burying the sound in her mouth. When he reached for the ties of her leggings, her breath hitched.
He paused.
She nodded.
They moved together under the covers - clumsy, quiet, hands shaking just enough to betray the truth of how new this was. She helped him slide the leggings down, one leg at a time, while he shoved his own breeches low enough to free his cock.
Then she shifted, shy and flushed, and pulled her leg over his hip.
Her cunt was warm and slick, heat radiating in waves as he reached down to guide himself to her slit. He eased in slowly, bracing over her with trembling arms, watching her bite her lip as he pushed inside, inch by inch, thick and hard and stretching her open.
Her hand flew to her mouth as she gasped.
Lucanis grit his teeth. “Meirda-- Rook…”
Perfect.
Spite. Of course.
Yes. Feels good. Just for us.
Lucanis didn’t reply. Couldn’t. She was so wet, clenching around him, and he was buried to the hilt, deep in a way that made him feel both invincible and unworthy.
He didn’t move.
Neither did she.
They just breathed - hard and shaking - until across the room, Taash rolled over, grunted, and muttered:
“Don’t forget the goat…”
Lucanis froze. He clamped his hand over Rook’s mouth. He didn’t dare move. Not yet. He lowered his hand.
Rook’s body was still tense beneath his, her eyes wide above her hands. But her cunt clenched around him - tight, throbbing, needy - like her body had no intention of stopping.
She looked up at him, cheeks flushed, pupils wide. And slowly, deliberately, she rocked her hips.
His breath caught.
“Rook,” he rasped.
She shook her head quickly, mouthing, please, and pulled him back in with her legs.
He obeyed.
He drew back a few inches, then pressed forward again, sliding through her slick heat in one long, slow thrust. She was so wet he could hear it, even under the covers, wet and open and fluttering around him like she was trying to pull him in even deeper.
Lucanis gritted his teeth and moved again, shallow and careful. Every movement threatened the quiet.
Her own hand came up to clap over her mouth, her moans soft and frantic beneath it. Her other hand fisted in his tunic, clinging to him like she’d fall apart if she let go.
He kissed her neck, her cheek, the corner of her mouth - anywhere he could reach - just to muffle himself, to do something with the urgency clawing at his ribs.
She wants. More.
Spite’s voice was low. Hungry.
She doesn’t. Want you. Careful. She wants you. Deep.
Lucanis agreed. He buried himself to the hilt.
Rook’s entire body shook. She gasped under her palm, her cunt squeezing him so tight he almost came right there.
He pulled out slowly. Pressed in again. Harder.
Again.
Again.
She was close. He could feel it in the way she trembled. The way her hand gripped his back now, digging in through the fabric, trying to keep him pressed to her, in her.
He kissed her, harder now. Her mouth opened under his, swallowing both their sounds as he picked up the pace. Still controlled. Still careful. But not slow anymore.
He thrust deep and steady, cock gliding in and out of her soaked, fluttering cunt, her body slick and greedy for him. Her legs wrapped tighter. She moaned into his mouth, and the sound nearly broke him.
Then she tensed.
He felt the wave take her, cunt pulsing hard around him, her whole body shuddering as she came. He held her through it, fucking her through the aftershocks, until his own release slammed into him.
He buried himself one last time, deep, deeper than he thought possible, and came hard, cock twitching as he emptied into her, thick and hot. Her cunt milked him, slow and tight and perfect, drawing every last drop.
They collapsed together, breathless.
Neither of them spoke.
He stayed inside her. She didn’t let go.
For a long time, the room was nothing but ragged breaths and the creak of the bed settling.
Then--
She felt you. All of you. Spite’s tone was different now. Softer. We needed that. You did.
Lucanis closed his eyes, forehead pressed to Rook’s.
“Are they both still asleep?” she whispered, so faintly it barely reached him.
“I think so.”
“Did Taash really say something about a goat?”
He huffed a laugh. “They did.”
“Oh.” A pause. Then: “I don’t know if that makes this better or worse.”
“Worse,” he said, without hesitation. “But I’m not sorry.”
She smiled, small and tired. “Me neither.”
He didn’t pull out.
She didn’t ask him to.
They just lay there, tangled under the blanket, trying to slow their breathing - trying not to wake the others.
And in the quiet, Spite whispered once more, almost wistful:
Rook is my favourite.