Maren sat on the edge of my bed in one of my old dock shirts, auburn hair loose, legs crossed. The second she saw Saya’s hand still on my wrist, her eyebrows rose and a slow, wicked smile spread across her face.

“Well. Perfect timing.”

I froze. Saya stopped beside me, eyes sharp.

Maren stood, the shirt riding high. “If you two are still testing theories, we might as well be efficient. Threesome. Right now.”

Heat flooded my face. I’d walked in expecting a clinical data run with Saya. Not Maren half-naked casually proposing we all fuck.

Saya considered it for three seconds. “Acceptable. Dual-partner scenario may provide comparative data.”

“See? She’s in. You’re the one standing there like you got hit with a stun baton.”

“I— Maren—”

She crossed the room and kissed me before I could finish—deep, claiming. One hand in my hair, the other tugging me forward. When she let me breathe she stayed close, lips at my ear.

“Relax, idiot. I’ve got you.”

Saya watched with that same focused intensity. After a moment she stepped in, fingers finding the hem of my shirt. Between them I was undressed in under a minute. Maren’s borrowed shirt hit the floor. Saya stripped with the same methodical care as before until she stood bare, porcelain skin and unblinking gray eyes.

Maren pulled me onto the bed and claimed my mouth again. She straddled my hips, kissed along my jaw, and whispered half-praise, half-filth while her hand wrapped around my cock. Every time I looked toward Saya, Maren turned my face back.

“Eyes on me for now. She’s not going anywhere.”

Saya knelt beside us. For a while she only watched, breathing a fraction faster. Then she reached out. Her fingers traced my ribs before joining Maren’s hand. The contrast was stark—Maren warm and knowing, Saya cooler, deliberate.

Maren shifted, guided me inside her, and started to move. Slow, then deeper, riding with easy strength. She kept kissing me, kept whispering, kept pulling my attention back. The Weave began to hum under her skin.

Saya’s patience thinned. She caught my jaw and kissed me—less polished, uncertain in the angle, but intent. When Maren lifted, Saya’s fingers slipped between us, gathered slickness, and brought it to her own clit.

Maren still took most of my mouth and focus, hips rolling in steady circles. But Saya refused to stay background. She pressed closer, stole kisses, breath shortening. The first involuntary sound escaped her when I got a hand on her breast.

Maren noticed. Something sharp and pleased flickered across her face. She slowed just enough for Saya to crowd in, then deliberately kissed me deeper, daring her to compete.

Saya swung a leg over and straddled my thigh while Maren kept riding. She ground down against muscle and friction, gray eyes locked on mine. For the first time the clinical distance cracked. She looked hungry. Present.

We moved together—Maren taking me deep, Saya rubbing against my leg and stealing kisses. The Weave rose in both of them until the air felt charged. Maren came first with a broken cry, body clamping tight, forehead to mine. The surge pulled me to the edge.

Saya followed moments later, a sharper sound leaving her as her hips stuttered. Her fingers dug into my shoulder. The second wave of Weave hit while I was still buried in Maren and dragged me over with them. I came hard, the three of us tangled and shaking.

For a long minute nobody spoke.

Maren lifted her head, hair a mess, lips swollen. She looked at me, then Saya, and smiled.

“Shower. Both of you.”

She slid off and headed for the bathroom. At the door she glanced back.

“Well? I’m not washing my own back.”

I started to rise. Saya was faster. She stood, still flushed, and said calmly, “I will accompany her.”

Maren’s smile turned wicked.

“There’s space for all three, gray-eyes. Get in here.”