The weekend had started like any other. Bryce had driven over mid-morning with a bag of tools he didn’t end up needing, because Grant had waved him off from the yard and said the job could wait until after lunch, and lunch turned out to be a beer and a sandwich on the deck while the horses dozed in the paddock.
It was the kind of easy Saturday that had become familiar over the past months—no plan, no pressure, just the slow rhythm of two properties that had stopped feeling separate.
But there was something different in the air today. Grant kept glancing down the driveway, and Elara had set out four extra glasses on the bench without seeming to notice she’d done it.
“Expecting someone?” Bryce asked, nodding at the glasses.
Elara looked at them, then at him, and smiled.
“Callan and Mauve are staying over tonight. I thought I mentioned it.”
He didn’t think she had.
Before he could say so, a dust trail appeared at the end of the drive, and a familiar ute rolled in with the Fletchers’ coolbox in the tray.
Mauve climbed out before the engine had fully stopped, sandy hair loose around her shoulders, and walked straight to the back door like she owned it.
She didn’t knock.
She just came inside, toed off her boots and went to the fridge to pull out the bottle of wine Elara had bought, setting it on the bench beside the cutting board.
“Need a hand with the salad?”
Elara handed her the knife without a word.
They fell into the rhythm of two people who had done this a hundred times.
⸻
Outside, Callan had greeted Grant then went straight to the fridge, grabbed a beer and settled into one of the deck chairs like he’d lived there his whole life.
Bryce sat down on the other side of the deck, and for a while it was just the five of them.
The conversation moved in circles full of names, places and jokes with history behind them. A trek up north three years ago. A storm that had flattened a tent. A horse that had gotten loose in the middle of the night and been found eating Callan’s breakfast the next morning.
“You never told me about that one,” Bryce said when the laughter died down.
Grant looked at Callan and grinned.
“There’s a lot you haven’t heard yet, mate. You’ve got years of catching up to do.”
Grant reached over and brushed a strand of hair from Mauve’s face without looking at her.
Later Elara leaned into Callan’s shoulder when she laughed at something he said.
Mauve’s hand rested on Elara’s knee beneath the table.
Bryce noticed.
Nobody else seemed to.
Dinner was slow and loud. Elara had made curry, Mauve had brought bread from the bakery in town, and Grant opened a bottle of red he claimed was “the good stuff.”
Callan immediately called bullshit on him.
They argued about the label for ten minutes.
Bryce laughed with them.
⸻
As the evening wore on, the conversation grew quieter.
Grant’s hand found Mauve’s on the table.
Elara’s chair had somehow moved closer to Callan’s.
There was a pause in the talk, a moment of shared silence, and Bryce realised he was the only one who didn’t know what came next.
Grant caught his eye.
“Another beer?”
Bryce looked around the table.
Then smiled.
“Nah. I should probably get going.”
“You don’t have to,” Elara said.
“I know.”
And he did.
That was what made leaving easy.
“Early start tomorrow.”
Elara nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Bryce stood.
Mauve rose too and walked him to the door.
“Drive safe.”
She squeezed his arm once.
Bryce stepped out into the cool night.
The door closed softly behind him.
By the time he reached his ute, laughter had started inside again.
He smiled to himself, opened the door and climbed in.
⸻
Elara waited until the sound of Bryce’s ute had disappeared down the road.
When she turned from the window, Mauve was watching her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s not nothing.”
Mauve smiled into her wine.
Grant collected the empty plates.
“He knows.”
“Of course he knows,” Callan said.
Elara looked toward the door Bryce had just gone through.
“He knows enough.”
Grant carried the plates into the kitchen.
“Which is probably exactly how much he wanted to know.”
Mauve’s fingers slid around Elara’s wrist.
“Come here.”
Elara let herself be pulled closer.
Mauve kissed her before she reached the chair.
There was nothing tentative in it.
Her hand settled at Elara’s waist, familiar and sure, and Elara laughed softly against her mouth.
Across the table, Grant looked at Callan.
“Guess we’re doing dishes tomorrow.”
Callan took another drink.
“You were never doing them anyway.”
Grant laughed.
Then Mauve kissed Elara again, and neither of them paid much attention to the conversation after that.
They moved to the bedroom without anyone suggesting it.
They always did eventually.
Grant reached Mauve first.
His hands found her hips and he kissed her, deep and unhurried, the kind of kiss that said they had all the time in the world. Mauve’s hands came up to his chest, fingers spreading over the hair there, and she made a small sound against his mouth.
Beside them, Elara reached for Callan.
She caught the front of his shirt and pulled his face down to hers, slow and deliberate, her fingers curling into the short hair at his nape.
Callan’s hand found her waist, then slid lower, pulling her against him.
The four of them had done this often enough that nobody hurried.
Clothes disappeared in pieces.
A shirt on the chair.
Jeans beside the bed.
Mauve’s bra hanging from one corner of the bedframe.
Mauve pushed Grant gently back onto the mattress.
“Sit.”
He did, the mattress dipping under his weight.
She knelt in front of him, hands on his knees, and looked up.
“We’re not going to rush this.”
Grant smiled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“But we’re not going to wait forever either.”
Mauve unbuttoned his jeans, her fingers deft and quick, and Grant let his head fall back as her mouth found him.
She took him deep, her hand wrapped around the base of his cock while her mouth worked the length of him. Grant groaned, his hand finding her hair, not to guide her but just to hold on.
She looked up at him as she sucked, her eyes dark and knowing.
Then Callan’s hand slid around Elara’s waist from behind.
She turned in his arms.
“Thought you’d forgotten me.”
“Never.”
She kissed him.
Callan’s hands moved over her as though they already knew every place she liked to be touched.
Because they did.
By the time Elara looked towards the bed again, Grant had Mauve beneath him.
Her legs wrapped around his hips as he drove into her, fast and hard as she pulled him closer.
Elara smiled.
“Someone’s impatient.”
Callan glanced towards them.
“Which one?”
Elara laughed.
Then his fingers moved between her thighs and the laugh broke apart.
“There?”
Elara nodded.
He did it again.
Her hand tightened around his shoulder.
Beside them Mauve moaned, long and low.
Grant’s rhythm had changed.
Elara looked across.
Mauve caught her eye over Grant’s shoulder.
Held it.
Then smiled.
That was enough.
Callan turned Elara towards the bed and bent her over the edge. Her jeans were gone, her shirt pushed up, her fingers twisting into the sheets as he moved behind her.
He entered her hard but slow, paying attention to exactly what she liked.
Elara’s breath caught.
Callan leaned down and kissed her shoulder, one hand sliding between her legs while he moved inside her.
Across the bed, Grant drove into Mauve, the muscles in his back flexing with every thrust. Elara watched the way Mauve’s body took him, her cunt glistening and swollen as Grant fucked her.
Mauve pulled him closer.
“Come on.”
Grant gave her exactly what she wanted.
His rhythm faltered first.
Mauve felt it and wrapped her legs tighter around him.
Grant buried himself deep, his body shuddering as he came, face pressed against her neck.
Mauve followed moments later, arching beneath him, her cry muffled against his shoulder.
Callan was still moving inside Elara.
Still controlled.
Still nowhere near finished.
Elara looked across at Mauve, flushed and breathless beneath Grant.
Something in the look Mauve gave her was enough.
Elara reached back and caught Callan’s wrist.
“Wait.”
He stopped immediately.
She slid away from him.
Grant had rolled aside, still catching his breath, and Mauve had barely started to follow him when Elara caught her wrist.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
Mauve laughed.
“No?”
“No.”
Elara pulled her back towards her.
Mauve crawled across the bed, breasts bare and full in the low light, and kissed her.
Deep.
Slow.
Familiar.
Elara’s hands found Mauve’s hips and pulled her down, their bodies pressing together.
Mauve’s thigh slid between Elara’s legs.
Elara arched into her.
Her breath caught.
Mauve felt it.
“There?”
“Don’t be smug.”
“Can’t help it.”
Mauve kissed down Elara’s throat, over her chest, down her stomach.
Elara’s hands fisted in her hair as Mauve disappeared between her thighs.
Elara’s head dropped back against the mattress.
“Fuck.”
Mauve laughed against her.
The vibration made Elara gasp.
Callan settled beside them.
His hand found Elara’s.
She gripped it.
Hard.
The first touch of Mauve’s tongue drew another gasp from her.
Mauve groaned against Elara, her tongue finding the hard nub of her clit. Elara’s hips bucked and her fingers tightened in Mauve’s hair, holding her there as Mauve worked her with her mouth.
Grant watched from beside them, still recovering, one hand resting loosely against Mauve’s back.
Mauve knew exactly what she was doing.
She worked Elara slowly at first, drawing everything out until Elara was shifting restlessly against the bed.
Then she changed pace.
Elara’s fingers tightened.
“Don’t stop.”
Mauve didn’t.
Her mouth worked faster while Elara’s hips lifted to meet her.
Eventually Mauve raised her head, her lips slick and shining.
“Come for me.”
Her fingers slipped between Elara’s spread legs and pushed inside her.
Elara’s muscles contracted around them.
Mauve felt it.
“There?”
“Don’t be smug.”
“Can’t help it.”
Mauve curled her fingers and Elara’s breath broke apart.
Callan was still beside her.
Still hard.
Still unfinished.
Elara turned her head towards him.
Her eyes dropped.
Then came back to his.
She reached for him.
Callan understood.
He shifted closer and Elara took his cock into her mouth.
His breath caught.
Mauve never stopped.
Her tongue worked Elara’s clit while her fingers moved inside her, and Callan’s hips began moving carefully against Elara’s mouth.
Grant’s hand travelled slowly down Mauve’s back.
Elara could feel everything at once.
Mauve’s mouth.
Her fingers.
Callan filling her mouth.
His hand tightening against her shoulder when she took him deeper.
Mauve broke away long enough to breathe.
“Missed you.”
Callan eased back enough for Elara to answer.
“You saw me last weekend.”
“Not like this.”
Elara smiled.
“Fair.”
Mauve went back down on her.
Callan slid between Elara’s lips again.
Mauve’s fingers worked inside her while her mouth stayed on her clit.
Elara’s hand tightened around Callan’s thigh.
Her cries became muffled around him.
Mauve changed the angle of her fingers.
Elara’s whole body tightened.
“Don’t stop.”
The words were barely clear when Callan eased back.
Neither of them did.
Callan moved carefully against her mouth while Mauve drove Elara closer, her fingers working in counterpoint to her tongue.
The pressure built until Elara couldn’t separate one sensation from another.
Her hips lifted hard from the bed.
Mauve followed her.
Elara came with a broken cry around Callan, her body tightening beneath Mauve, cunt clenching around her fingers as the orgasm rolled through her.
Callan stopped moving.
Mauve stayed between Elara’s thighs until the trembling began to ease.
Then she crawled back up beside her.
Elara pulled her into a kiss, tasting herself on Mauve’s mouth.
“Took your time.”
“You complain when I rush.”
“I complain about lots of things.”
“We know.”
Callan laughed.
Elara turned towards him.
He was still hard.
Still unfinished.
She smiled.
“Your turn.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“Bossy.”
“Always.”
He moved between her thighs.
Callan entered her slowly.
Elara’s arms went around his shoulders.
This was different from Grant.
Not better.
Not worse.
Different.
Grant knew every version of her because he’d spent years beside her.
Callan knew this one.
The one who didn’t need anything from him tomorrow morning.
The one who could simply want him now.
He kissed her while he moved.
Elara pulled him deeper.
Across the bed, Grant had drawn Mauve against him again.
He kissed her.
His hands moved down her body.
Mauve felt him hard against her and smiled.
“That was quick.”
Grant shrugged.
“You’re distracting.”
“Terrible excuse.”
She climbed over him anyway.
Mauve settled astride Grant and lowered herself onto him.
Grant’s hands closed around her hips as she began to ride him.
Elara watched them over Callan’s shoulder.
Mauve’s breasts moved with each roll of her hips, her hands spread over Grant’s chest as he began thrusting up to meet her.
Mauve looked across.
Their eyes met.
Callan felt Elara tighten around him.
He smiled.
“Something interesting?”
“Maybe.”
He glanced back.
“Ah.”
Elara slapped his shoulder.
“Don’t get distracted.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
She wrapped her legs tighter around him.
Callan stopped smiling.
His rhythm became harder.
Elara met every thrust.
Across the bed Mauve’s breathing changed.
Grant was driving up into her now, matching the movement of her hips.
Two rhythms filled the room.
Callan gripped Elara’s hips and drove deeper.
Her nails dug into his shoulders.
Mauve leaned forward over Grant, blue eyes half closed, hair falling around them while his hands held her against him.
Elara could hear Mauve moaning.
Could hear Grant’s breathing getting rougher again.
Could feel Callan beginning to lose the control he’d held onto all night.
His rhythm faltered.
Elara tightened her legs around him.
“Don’t stop.”
He didn’t.
Mauve cried out first.
Her body tightened over Grant, her rhythm breaking as the orgasm caught her.
Grant kept driving up into her until his hands locked around her hips.
He buried himself deep beneath her and came again, his body shuddering as Mauve collapsed forward onto his chest.
Callan looked towards them for half a heartbeat.
Elara caught his face and pulled him back to her.
“Here.”
He kissed her.
His next thrust drove deep enough to tear a cry from her.
Callan came hard inside her, his body tightening over hers as Elara felt him pulsing deep inside.
The sensation tipped her over with him.
She clenched around his cock, legs pulling him closer as another orgasm rolled through her.
For several seconds nobody moved.
Callan lowered himself carefully beside Elara.
Across the bed, Mauve had collapsed over Grant.
Grant wrapped both arms around her.
Elara turned her head.
Mauve looked back.
Both started laughing.
“What?” Grant asked.
“Nothing,” Mauve managed.
“That’s never nothing.”
Callan lay back beside Elara, breathing hard.
“Don’t ask.”
Grant looked between the three of them.
“Fine.”
⸻
Later the four of them lay tangled across the bed.
Mauve was half on top of Elara, one leg thrown over hers.
Callan lay on Elara’s other side.
Grant was stretched along Mauve’s back with one hand resting on her hip.
Nobody spoke for a while.
Eventually Grant said, “So. Dishes.”
Mauve groaned.
“Don’t ruin it.”
“Just planning tomorrow.”
“Plan quietly.”
Callan laughed.
Elara reached blindly behind her and found a pillow.
She threw it in Grant’s direction.
It hit Mauve instead.
“Oi.”
“Collateral damage.”
Mauve grabbed the pillow and hit her back.
That was enough to start it.
By the time the pillow landed on the floor, Grant was laughing too hard to defend himself and Callan had retreated to the edge of the bed.
Elara lay back, breathless for an entirely different reason.
Mauve dropped beside her.
“Still got it.”
“Never doubted it.”
⸻
Bryce came over the next morning.
He found all four of them on the deck.
Mauve had made pancakes.
Grant was drinking coffee.
Callan looked like he’d slept badly.
Elara looked at Bryce as he came up the steps.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
Mauve pointed her fork at him.
“You’re late.”
“For what?”
“Breakfast.”
“I wasn’t invited.”
“Technicality.”
Grant slid an empty plate towards him.
Bryce sat.
Nobody said anything about the night before.
Nobody needed to.
Mauve stole a piece of pancake from Callan’s plate.
Callan stole it back.
Grant complained that somebody had used all the hot water.
Elara blamed Mauve.
Mauve blamed Grant.
Bryce ate his breakfast and listened.
Eventually Elara stood and picked up her coffee.
“You still want to check that eastern fence?”
Bryce finished the last bite.
“Yep.”
Grant looked at Callan.
“You coming?”
Callan stared into his coffee.
“In a minute.”
Mauve laughed.
Bryce looked at him.
Callan shook his head.
“Don’t ask.”
Bryce didn’t.
Elara was already heading down the steps.
He followed her.
Behind them, Grant started laughing again.