Page 33 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

"Everything okay in there?" Thane's voice, muffled through the wood, carefully casual in a way that means he can absolutely tell what's happening.

Wraith goes rigid against me, already retreating. I catch his arm before he can disappear to the far side of the shower.

I have an idea.

An omega idea.

Bold and reckless and exactly right.

"Come in," I call to Thane. "But keep the light off."

The door opens. A brief wash of dim light from the loft spills across the bathroom floor, and Wraith flinches hard and turns away from me. Then Thane shuts it, and darkness swallows everything again.

"Ivy?" Thane's voice moves uncertainly through the steam. "What's going on? Why is it so fucking dark in here?"

I hear him inhale deeply.

He's scenting the air.

And I know exactly what he's picking up. The scents of an omega and her alpha who were about three seconds from doing something very, very good and stress-relieving.

"Get in the shower with us," I say, and I mean every word. "All of us need this."

Silence.

My hand finds Wraith's in the dark. I thread our fingers together and squeeze once. This is okay. Trust me.

Then the sound of clothes hitting the tile. Thane's shirt. His belt. Everything, piece by piece, dropped to the bathroom floor without argument.

His bulk fills the shower entrance, massive and warm, blocking the thin dull stripe of light from under the door. Even in total darkness, I can feel the sheer size of his presence.

The shower stall was barely big enough for Wraith and me. Adding Thane turns it into an exercise in physics that probably shouldn't work but somehow does. Except for the fact none of us is getting enough water because there's only one showerhead between two giant alphas and one omega half their size, sandwiched between them.

"Welcome," I say to Thane, teasing.

"You sure about this?" Thane asks, his voice low and rough.

He's asking both of us. I know that.

Wraith answers with a low rumble. A slightly uncertain rumble, but a rumble nonetheless.

My hands rise in the darkness, finding both alphas. One against Wraith's chest behind me, his scarred skin hot and heart pounding under my palm. The other pressed to Thane's broad chest, his heart racing just as fast as his brother's.

"You're both so tense," I observe, and it's almost laughable how much of an understatement that is. They're both wound so tight they're practically vibrating. "When's the last time either of you actually relaxed for a minute?"

The silence answers for them.

"That's what I thought." I let my hands move, purposeful now. Claiming. "Let me help."

I start with Thane because he's in front of me and because I think Wraith needs a moment to adjust to having another person this close while his face is exposed. Gods, the tension in Thane's broad shoulders could shatter concrete. I dig my thumbs into the knots of muscle, working them loose.

"Fuck, that's good," he groans, his head dropping forward, forehead bumping against the top of mine as I look up toward his silhouette.

I work along his trapezius, his deltoids, the thick bands of muscle running down either side of his spine. He's built differently from Wraith. Wraith is massive, but leaner, almost sculpted. Thane is big in his own right, but not impossibly, with the slightest layer of soft warmth over his solid bulk.

I turn my attention back to Wraith. My hands slide over the web of scars covering his chest, the hard planes of his abdomen, the ridges of muscle that flex and tighten under my palms. Then lower, over the V of his hips.

Wraith's cock is already hard when I reach it, and it twitches at my touch. He lets out a low, uncertain rumble, planting his hand against the tiled shower wall to steady himself. Thane's breathing has changed behind me, going shallow and rough, fighting for restraint like he still isn't sure this is what I want.