I closed the door fully and stayed where I was for a second, giving her space. Wren’s arms were still locked around herself. Her eyes kept darting between my face and the floor.

“Wren,” I said quietly. “Look at me.”

She did. Barely.

“You don’t have to do this because you think you’re a liability. The simulations are hard for everyone at first. Maren and Saya are adjusting. So are you.”

“I still want to,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be the reason someone dies covering me. If this makes me stronger… if it helps… then I want it. Please.”

I nodded once. “Okay. Then we go slow. You tell me if anything doesn’t feel good, or if you want to stop. Anytime. Understand?”

She nodded, a small sharp movement. “Okay.”

I stepped closer and rested my hands lightly on her shoulders. She tensed, then made herself relax under my palms. I kissed her forehead first, then the bridge of her nose, then her mouth. Soft. No pressure. Her lips were cool and a little shaky. When I deepened it just enough to part them, she made a tiny surprised sound and leaned in, hands finally uncrossing so she could grip the front of my shirt.

We stayed like that for a while. Just kissing. I walked her backward until the backs of her knees hit the bed and she sat. I knelt in front of her so we were closer to eye level.

“Still okay?”

“Yes.” Her voice was already a little breathless.

I eased the sleep shirt up and over her head. She wasn’t wearing anything under it. Small, soft breasts, nipples already tight from nerves more than anything else. She tried to cover them on instinct; I caught her wrists gently and brought her hands down to rest on my shoulders instead.

“You’re fine. You’re beautiful. Just breathe.”

I kissed down her throat, across her collarbone, then lower. When my mouth closed over one nipple she gasped, fingers tightening on my shoulders. I took my time—licking, sucking lightly, switching sides—until her breathing turned uneven and her hips shifted restlessly on the edge of the bed.

My hand slid down her stomach, under the waistband of her soft pants. She was warm but not wet yet. I stroked her slowly through the thin fabric first, then eased the pants and her underwear down her legs together. She lifted her hips to help, face flushed deep pink.

“Lie back,” I said.

She did, knees still together until I nudged them apart. I settled between her thighs and kissed the inside of one, then the other, working higher. When my tongue finally touched her she jolted, a sharp little “oh” leaving her mouth. I kept it gentle—broad, slow licks, then tighter circles around her clit once she started to relax into it. Her hands found my hair. At first she just held on. Then her fingers started to flex, and soft, broken sounds slipped out of her every time I focused on the sensitive spot.

She got wet fast once the nerves eased. I slid one finger into her carefully, then a second when she pushed down against my hand. She was tight, clenching around me, hips rocking in small involuntary movements. I curled my fingers, kept my mouth on her clit, and felt the moment it tipped from “this is happening” into “this feels good.”

“Ezra—” Her voice cracked. “That’s— oh god—”

I stayed with her until her thighs were trembling and she was pulling at my hair like she didn’t know whether she wanted me closer or needed a second to breathe. Then I pulled back, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and stood long enough to get my own clothes off.

When I settled over her again she was flushed