The bedroom was bathed in soft gold from the hallway light, barely filtering through the door. The silence was thick but not empty—every breath between them carried weight.
Liora stood at the edge of the bed, her hair falling around her shoulders in soft waves. Her robe hung open slightly, her chest rising and falling as her eyes flicked between her lovers.
Keal sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless, the smooth line of his back bathed in faint glow. He looked up at her with warmth, then turned to Rivan, who stood just behind her, quiet and reverent.
"Come here," Keal murmured.
Rivan stepped forward, his hand brushing against Liora's hip as he passed. She turned, reaching for him, but Keal pulled him gently into a kiss—slow, deep, and full of longing. Liora stood still for a moment, watching their lips meet, their hands pull at each other's waists, and her breath caught at how beautiful they looked together.
She reached up and touched Rivan's shoulder. He broke the kiss with Keal and turned toward her, and without a word, he brought her into his arms.
Their lips met instantly—no teasing, no hesitation. Just need.
Rivan kissed her like she was his air, like he hadn't touched her in years. Keal moved behind her, his hands resting lightly on her waist, trailing upward, helping slide the robe from her shoulders. It slipped to the floor without a sound.
Rivan pulled her closer, their bodies pressing flush, heat building between them with every breath. She moaned into his mouth as his hands explored the familiar lines of her body, his lips leaving hers only to kiss the side of her throat.
Behind her, Keal's lips found her shoulder, then her neck. She arched between them, completely surrounded by their touch—Rivan in front of her, Keal behind, each of them worshipping her in different ways.
"I missed this," she whispered, voice trembling.
Keal's breath tickled her ear. "Then don't hold back."
They moved together toward the bed, Keal guiding them down gently. Liora lay back on the pillows, Rivan hovering above her, brushing her hair back with trembling fingers. Keal knelt beside them, trailing kisses down Rivan's back, his hands running across his hips.
Liora reached up, her fingers brushing both of them—tracing Rivan's jaw, squeezing Keal's hand.
Rivan leaned down and kissed her again, his movements tender and deliberate, as if he were memorizing her all over again. Keal pressed kisses to the curve of Liora's waist, then moved up her side, joining Rivan as they both hovered over her—four lips, four hands, two hearts pressed to hers.
She gasped as Keal kissed her collarbone while Rivan's hands caressed her thighs. The contrast of their touches—Keal's warmth and grounding presence, Rivan's fiery, consuming passion—drew shivers across her skin.
"You're so beautiful," Rivan whispered, his lips brushing hers again. "Both of you."
Keal met his gaze over Liora's body, eyes full of love. "So are you."
They leaned across her, their mouths meeting in another kiss—hotter now, deeper. Liora watched, heart pounding, as her two lovers shared this moment above her, their hands still holding her like something precious.
Then their attention returned to her—together.
Rivan kissed her neck while Keal kissed her belly. Rivan's fingers laced with hers while Keal whispered praise between kisses. They moved together, slow and in rhythm, never letting her feel alone, never letting her feel unloved.
Every sound was a promise. Every touch a memory rewritten.
They loved her like she was the heart of their world.
And Rivan? They loved him like he was the missing breath in both their lungs.
By the time the night settled into slow breathing and tangled limbs, there were no more words—only the weight of three bodies folded into each other, sweat-damp skin pressed close, and hearts beating in unison.
Love had never been this full.
And for the first time, all three of them knew it: this was everything they had ever needed.
---
The house was still.
Liora had gone to bring water, giving the two of them a moment of peace, a moment that felt stolen from time.
Only the bedside lamp glowed now, soft and golden, casting warm shadows across the room. It kissed the edge of Keal's bare shoulders and lit the curve of Rivan's legs as he lay across the crumpled sheets.
Keal stood at the window, his hands lightly resting on the sill, staring out into nothing.
He wasn't looking at the night. He was listening—for footsteps, for breath, for Rivan.
And then, like a breath of wind, Rivan appeared behind him.
He slipped his arms around Keal's waist, resting his forehead gently against the space between his shoulder blades, breathing in the scent that had haunted his dreams.
"I missed this view," Rivan whispered. "You. Just like this."
Keal's breath hitched slightly, his fingers curling against the windowpane. "You used to say that every time. Even the nights you never left."
"Because it's always been true," Rivan murmured. "I've always been in love with this exact moment."
Keal turned slowly in his arms, bringing their bodies chest to chest. He raised his hands to Rivan's face, thumbs tracing the edges of the man he'd memorized and missed.
"You're thinner," Keal said, voice soft with worry.
"You're warmer," Rivan replied, as though that made up for everything.
Keal gave a faint smile, but his eyes were already damp with too many quiet nights. "I waited every day. I didn't let a single night pass without you in my thoughts."
Rivan leaned down, and their lips met—tentative at first, searching.
Then, deeper.
They kissed like they'd been parched. Like this was the first drop of water after a long, aching drought.
Keal let himself fall into it—arms wrapped around Rivan's back, fingers clutching at skin, desperate to keep him close. Rivan's hands gripped Keal's waist as he kissed him again, again, again.
Slowly, Rivan guided him backward, until Keal's knees met the edge of the bed. He sat without breaking the kiss, pulling Rivan with him, their mouths pressed together like gravity refused to let them part.
Keal lay back, and Rivan followed him down, hovering just above him, the weight of his body a comfort, not a burden. Their legs tangled, breath shared. Every inch of them pressed together.
"You feel the same," Keal whispered, hands roaming over Rivan's ribs.
"So do you," Rivan replied, kissing a line down his neck. "Like I never left."
Keal's fingers threaded into Rivan's hair, holding him close. "Don't say that. It hurt when you did."
Rivan stopped. His forehead touched Keal's collarbone. His voice cracked.
"I know. And I'm sorry."
Keal guided his face back up, eyes shining. "You came back. That's what matters."
Then he kissed him again—slower now, reverent.
Their movements were unhurried, sacred. Every brush of skin against skin, every breath, every tremble was a vow. Rivan kissed the freckles on Keal's shoulder. Keal ran his hands down the length of Rivan's back, memorizing him all over again.
"I love you," Keal whispered between kisses.
"Say it again," Rivan begged.
"I love you."
Again.
"I love you."
Over and over until Rivan's breath shook and his voice broke with emotion.
"I thought I forgot how this felt," he murmured.
"You didn't," Keal whispered, pressing their foreheads together. "You just needed to come home to remember."
Rivan kissed him like it was the last thing he'd ever do. And then again. And again.
They made love slowly, like poetry written in touch. No rush. No words. Only connection.
Only love.
And when the night quieted, and all that was left were hearts pounding and breath slowing, Rivan rested his head on Keal's chest, his arm wrapped tightly around him.
"I'm not going anywhere," he promised.
Keal kissed the top of his head.
"You never really left me," he whispered.
---