The morning sun painted their room in stripes of gold and dust, and Nesha woke to the feeling of Vivian’s lips tracing the line of her spine, right over the enchanted strap that vanished into the cleft of her ass.

“He’s still here,” Vivian murmured, her breath warm against Nesha’s skin.

Nesha stretched, her K-cup breasts pressing into the mattress, a low hum of pleasure vibrating through her. The inn’s web was quiet, sated from the ritual feast, but it thrummed with a single, distinct thread of cool, intellectual energy from the room downstairs. Pisces. “He chopped the wood. He stayed.”

“The cold in him is almost gone,” Vivian said, her hand sliding over Nesha’s hip. “But there’s a different kind of ache left. A lonely one. The kind that watches from a corner.”

Nesha rolled onto her back, looking up at Vivian’s twilight eyes. “We gave him warmth. Maybe today we give him something else.”

Vivian’s smile was a promise. “A proper welcome. For him. Not for the inn.”

They found him in the common room, seated stiffly by the cold hearth, a book open but unread on his lap. He looked up as they descended, his pale face unreadable, but his eyes—the guarded, calculating chill had softened into something watchful, wary of hope.

“Good morning, Pisces,” Nesha said, her voice warm as the sunlight now streaming through the windows. She moved to the hearth, kneeling to build up the fire, the movement making the micro-strap dig deliciously into her flesh.

Vivian flowed toward him, a vision of silver and violet. She didn’t speak. She simply took the book from his hands, closed it, and set it aside. Then she took his hands in hers. They were cold. She brought them to her lips and breathed warmth onto his knuckles.

Pisces stared. “What are you doing?”

“Reading you,” Vivian said, her melodic voice a soft chant. “The ritual fed the inn. It didn’t feed you. Not the deepest part.” She leaned in, her F-cup breasts brushing his arm. “You gave us your cold. Let us give you our heat.”

He swallowed. “I am… tolerably sated.”

Nesha laughed, the sound rich and genuine. “Oh, honey. No, you’re not.” The fire caught, crackling to life. She stood and turned, the firelight gilding her impossible curves. “Come here.”

It wasn’t a request. It was a gravitational pull. Pisces stood, as if pulled by strings, and let them guide him to the thick fur rug before the hearth. They knelt him down. Vivian behind him, her arms wrapping around his chest, her lips at his ear. Nesha before him, on her knees, her hands coming to rest on his thighs.

“Just feel,” Vivian whispered. “No spells. No thoughts. Just this.”

Nesha’s hands moved to the fastenings of his trousers. Her fingers, once an old man’s, now deft and sure, worked the buttons. She looked up at him, her warm brown eyes holding his. “We see you, Pisces Jealnet. The man beneath the necromancer.”

She freed his cock. It was half-hard, pale and elegant like the rest of him, but as her warm hand closed around the base, it stirred to full, aching life. Pisces gasped, a short, sharp intake of breath.

“There he is,” Nesha murmured, her Midwestern accent wrapping around the words like a blanket. She leaned forward, her breath ghosting over the tip. She didn’t take him in her mouth. Not yet. She nuzzled the length of him, her cheek against his shaft, smelling the clean, male scent of him mixed with the old parchment and cold stone that always clung to his skin.

Vivian’s hands slid under his shirt, her cool palms smoothing over his stomach, his chest. She found the tense muscles there and kneaded them loose. “Let go,” she sang softly against his neck. “We have you.”

Nesha’s tongue finally touched him. A single, slow lick from root to tip, tracing the prominent vein on the underside. Pisces shuddered, his head falling back against Vivian’s shoulder. His hips gave a tiny, involuntary thrust.

“That’s it,” Nesha said, her voice husky. She took him into her mouth.

It wasn’t a sudden engulfment. It was a gradual, inexorable claiming. Her lips sealed around the crown, her tongue swirling, and then she sank down, taking him deeper, inch by impossibly wet, hot inch. Her K-cup breasts pressed against his thighs, a heavy, warm weight. She established a rhythm—slow, deep, deliberate. Each descent a full surrender, each ascent a teasing release. Her hand worked the base in tandem, a twist of her wrist on the upstroke that made his toes curl against the rug.

Vivian held him, one hand splayed over his pounding heart, the other carding through his hair. She watched Nesha work, her violet eyes dark with shared pleasure. “Look at her,” she breathed into his ear. “See how she worships you. This is a gift. Your clever mind… let it rest. Just feel her mouth.”

Pisces was trembling. Whimpers escaped his clenched teeth. His hands, which had been fisted at his sides, lifted, hovered, then sank into Nesha’s chestnut hair. Not guiding. Just holding on. Anchoring himself in the sensation.

Nesha felt his control fraying. She slowed further, drawing out the ache. She released him with a wet pop, her lips glistening. She looked up, his cock resting against her cheek. “You taste like you’re letting go,” she said, smiling. Then she dove back down, taking him to the hilt, her nose buried in the coarse hair at his base. She held there, humming, the vibration traveling straight up his spine.

“Close,” he choked out, a warning and a plea.

Vivian’s hands tightened. “Not yet.”

Nesha pulled off, her breath coming in soft pants. She kissed the inside of his thigh, then looked over his shoulder at Vivian. A silent conversation passed between them. A decision.

“Turn over,” Vivian said, her voice now carrying a note of command.

Dazed, Pisces obeyed, rolling onto his stomach on the fur. The firelight danced over the lean lines of his back.

Vivian moved to his side, her hand stroking his flank. Nesha positioned herself behind him. She placed her hands on the backs of his thighs and pushed, gently, until his knees were under him, his ass raised. He was exposed, vulnerable, his cock hanging heavy and desperate between his legs.

“This is a different welcome,” Nesha said, her voice thick with want. She leaned forward, her breath hot against him. “The most intimate kind.”

Her tongue touched him. Not his cock. The tight, clenched ring of muscle behind it.

Pisces jolted as if struck by lightning. A ragged, broken sound was torn from his throat.

Nesha rimmed him slowly, thoroughly, with the same dedicated focus she’d given his cock. Her tongue was flat and wet, laving broad strokes, then pointed and probing, tracing the outer ring before pressing insistently, delicately, inside. The sensation was utterly alien, overwhelming, a direct line of pure, shocking pleasure to his core. Vivian watched, her own arousal a slick heat between her legs, her fingers trailing down Pisces’s spine.

“Nobody has ever…” Pisces gasped into the fur.

“We know,” Vivian said softly. “That’s why we are.”

Nesha feasted. She ate at him like he was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted, her hands gripping his hips to hold him still as he trembled. The wet, intimate sounds filled the space between the crackles of the fire. She pushed her tongue inside him, fucking him with it, shallow and then deeper, and Pisces was sobbing, his body bowing under the onslaught of sensation.

When she finally pulled back, he was a wreck, panting, his entire body flushed. Nesha wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her eyes glazed with lust. She looked at Vivian, then back down at Pisces’s waiting, glistening hole.

“Viv,” Nesha breathed. “Your turn.”

Vivian didn’t hesitate. She moved behind Pisces, pushing Nesha gently aside. Where Nesha was warm and generous, Vivian was artful and precise. She kissed the small of his back, then lower, her silver hair trailing over his skin. Then her tongue, cooler than Nesha’s, flickered against him. A tease. A promise. She rimmed him with a fae’s artistry, alternating between feather-light flicks and deep, penetrating strokes that had him pushing back against her face, begging wordlessly.

Nesha crawled around to face him. She cupped his face, forcing his tear-streaked eyes to meet hers. “You are ours,” she said, the words a vow. “Our guest. Our friend. Ours.” She kissed him, deep and slow, letting him taste himself on her tongue.

Vivian worked him until his thighs were shaking, until he was a hair’s breadth from coming untouched. Then she too pulled away. They flanked him now, two goddesses of flesh and welcome, their bodies glowing with sweat and need in the firelight.

Nesha leaned close, her lips against his ear. Her voice was a raw, hungry whisper. “Pisces.”

He turned his head, his eyes hazy.

“Take us,” she said. “Both of us. In the ass.”

The words hung in the air, stark and electric. It wasn’t a suggestion. It was an offering. The final surrender, the deepest welcome.

Pisces stared at her, then at Vivian. The last vestiges of the lonely, calculating necromancer melted away, burned up in the furnace of their shared heat. A new kind of magic, desperate and grateful, sparked in his eyes.

“Yes,” he rasped.1

Vivian moved first, her movements a fluid, deliberate dance in the firelight. She rose to her knees, her silver hair cascading over one shoulder as she looked at Pisces, then at Nesha. A wicked, knowing smile touched her lips. “My turn first, I think,” she said, her melodic voice holding a thread of command. She turned, presenting herself to Pisces, lowering her torso to the fur rug and arching her back. The enchanted strap was a mere whisper across her skin, the central line disappearing into the cleft of her ass, framing the tight, rosebud pucker they had just made wet and ready for him. “Come here, necromancer. Claim your welcome.”

Pisces stared, his breath catching. The sight of her—the elegant, powerful fae offering herself so blatantly—seemed to short-circuit the last of his hesitation. He shuffled forward on his knees, his cock, hard and leaking, bobbing before him. His hands hovered over the swell of her hips, unsure.

Nesha came up behind him, her lush body pressing against his back. Her K-cup breasts were a warm, heavy weight against his spine. She reached around him, her hands covering his, guiding them to grip Vivian’s hips. “Like this,” she murmured into his ear, her Midwestern warmth a stark contrast to the carnal instruction. “She won’t break. She wants to feel you.”

Vivian glanced back over her shoulder, her violet eyes gleaming. “Don’t be gentle. I’m not made of glass. I’m made for this.” She pushed back against his hands, a clear, hungry invitation.

Pisces’s grip tightened. He positioned himself, the head of his cock nudging against her. The contact was electric. He was slick from Nesha’s mouth, and Vivian was wet from their attention, but this was different—tighter, a hotter, clenching heat. He pushed, just an inch.

Vivian gasped, a sharp, musical sound. Her back arched further, her fingers clutching the fur. “More.”

Nes1ha watched, one hand stroking Pisces’s flank, the other trailing down to cup his balls, feeling them drawn up tight. “Slow,” she coached, her voice thick. “Let her feel every inch. Let yourself feel it.”

Pisces obeyed, sinking deeper with a long, controlled thrust. The stretch was immense, overwhelming for both of them. Vivian’s breath came in ragged pants, her glamour flickering for a second, revealing a glimpse of deeper, wilder magic beneath her skin. He buried himself to the hilt, his pelvis flush against her ass, and they both froze, suspended in the shock of full connection.

The fire crackled. The only other sound was their shared, labored breathing. Nesha leaned in, kissing the sweat-damp skin between Pisces’s shoulder blades. “Good,” she breathed. “So good. Now move.”

He began to thrust. Tentative at first, then gaining confidence as Vivian met him, push for push. The rhythm was awkward, then found, a deep, rolling cadence. The wet, tight sound of their joining filled the room. Vivian’s moans were low and continuous, a song of profound satisfaction. She reached back, one hand tangling in Pisces’s hair, pulling his head down to her shoulder. “You feel that?” she gasped. “That’s you. Inside. You’re not lonely in there.”

Pisces made a broken sound, his thrusts becoming harder, more desperate. His intellectual walls were ash. He was pure sensation—the heat of her channel, the grip of her muscles, the smell of sex and musk and fae magic. Nesha’s hands 2 everywhere on him, soothing and stoking, her own arousal a slick heat against his thigh.

Afte1r a timeless stretch of deep, pounding rhythm, Vivian’s body began to clench around him in rhythmic pulses. She cried out, a sound like a silver bell cracking, her body bowing taut. Pisces groaned, his own climax tearing up his spine, but Nesha’s hand tightened on his hip. “Not yet,” she whispered, the command magical in its weight. “Hold it. For me.”

With a shuddering gasp, Pisces obeyed, riding the edge, his thrusts slowing to shallow, desperate rocks as Vivian shuddered through her release beneath him. When her tremors subsided, she went boneless against the fur, a satisfied sigh escaping her. Gently, Pisces pulled out.

Vivian rolled onto her side, spent and glowing, a lazy smile on her face. She reached up and pulled Pisces down for a deep, messy kiss. “Your turn, my heart,” she said to Nesha, her eyes drifting shut.

Nesha didn’t need instruction. Her need was a palpable force in the room. She looked at Pisces, his cock still hard and glistening, his eyes wide and dazed. “On your back,” she said, her voice husky with want.

He collapsed onto the rug, chest heaving. Nesha straddled his thighs, but not where he expected. She turned, presenting herself to him just as Vivian had—her back to his face, her own lush, incredible ass hovering over his cock. The view was staggering: the perfect, heavy globes of her ass, the thin strap vanishing into her cleft, the glistening, pink proof of her readiness. She looked back at him over her shoulder, her chestnut hair wild. “You know where,” she said, simple and direct.

Pisces’s hands found her hips, his touch reverent and shaky. He guided himself to her entrance. Nesha sank down, taking him inside her in one slow, inexorable slide. She was tighter than Vivian, a different, fuller heat. A deep, guttural moan was torn from her throat as she seated herself fully, her body accepting every inch of him. She braced her hands on his thighs, her head dropping forward.

“Oh, god,” she breathed, the old Earth curse a prayer in the firelight. “Albert never dreamed of this.”

She began to move, rising and falling with a powerful, grinding rhythm. Her body was a masterpiece of motion, each undulation designed to milk sensation from them both. Pisces could only watch, transfixed, as she took her pleasure from him, her breasts swaying heavily beneath her, her back a graceful arc. He reached up, his hands sliding over the curve of her ass, feeling the muscles work as she rode him.

Nesha’s pace quickened, becoming frantic, hungry. “Touch me,” she demanded, her voice raw. “I’m empty up front.”

Vivian, having caught her breath, slithered over. She lay beside Pisces, her head near his, and reached up. Her clever fingers found Nesha’s clit, stroking and circling in time with Pisces’s thrusts from below. Nesha cried out, her rhythm breaking into a shuddering stutter. “Yes! Right there, Viv, right—oh!”

The triple stimulation—Pisces filling her from behind, Vivian working her from the front—drove Nesha swiftly to her peak. Her orgasm hit her like a thunderclap, a silent, shaking convulsion that gripped Pisces’s cock like a vise. She threw her head back, a soundless scream on her lips, her body clamping down again and again.

The intense, rhythmic pulsing tore Pisces’s control to shreds. The edge he’d been clinging to vanished. With a ragged shout, he came, his hips bucking up off the rug as he emptied himself deep inside her. The release was seismic, a flood of physical and magical energy that wasn’t just spent—it was given. It flowed into Nesha, and through their bond, into Vivian, and out into the very stones of the inn, feeding the hungry web.

For a long minute, there was only the sound of the fire and their gasping breaths. Nesha slowly, carefully, lifted herself off him and collapsed onto the fur beside Vivian, a spent, glorious wreck. Pisces lay between them, utterly hollowed out, staring at the ceiling with unseeing eyes.

Vivian was the first to move, propping herself up on an elbow. She looked at Pisces’s face, then leaned down and kissed his forehead, a shockingly tender gesture. “Welcome home,” she whispered.

Nesha turned her head, her warm brown eyes soft. She reached out and took Pisces’s hand, lacing her fingers with his. No one spoke. The magic in the room settled around them like a blanket, satiated and warm. The inn’s web hummed, a new thread—bright, complex, and fiercely loyal—now woven permanently into its foundation. Outside, the cold highland night held no fear. Inside, before the hearth, three bodies lay tangled in the afterglow, the deepest welcome finally, completely, given.