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10. Stay in Bed with Me
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2025-08-02 13:46:13The full moon was high above us while we stayed in bed.
I was naked, in his bed, wrapped in soft sheets that still held the scent of his skin and the warmth of his body. John stood by the windows, shirtless, wearing grey pajama pants hanging low on his hips, his phone in one hand. I watched him in silence. His broad back, the defined muscles shifting with each movement. The strong shoulders. The curve of his spine down to that narrow waist. And that calm, confident walk—like he knew everything in the world, including me, already belonged to him. “Yeah, cancel everything for today,” he said on the phone, not bothering to lower his voice. “If it won’t die without me, it can wait until tomorrow.” Silence. Then, a small, knowing smile. “I’m busy,” he added, with a tone of satisfaction that made me blush even though he wasn’t looking at me. He hung up. Turned around. And caught me staring at him. He didn’t say anything. Just walked toward me with that dangerous calm, like a predator certain of its prey. He climbed into bed slowly, the sheets shifting under his weight. One hand beside my head, and then he leaned in. “Did you sleep well?” he asked, that rough, just-woken voice sending a shiver straight through me. “I slept like someone knocked me out,” I murmured, eyes fixed on his mouth. He smiled. His gaze dropped to my lips. “Don’t look at me like that, Cat. I’m not done with you yet.” “You’re not?” “No.” His hand slid down my arm, slow, reaching my waist. He touched me like he already knew every part of me. Like he was picking up exactly where we left off. “You’re addicted to control,” I told him, swallowing a sigh. “And you’re addicted to me taking it from you.” He didn’t give me time to reply. His lips brushed mine—barely. A tease. A whisper of a kiss that dragged a frustrated breath from my lungs. He pulled back just before it deepened. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you look like this?” he asked. “Hair a mess, my mark on your neck, that look on your face like you want me again.” “And you?” I said, dragging my fingers down his stomach, slowly. “Do you have any idea how good you look when you pretend to be calm and you’re seconds away from devouring me?” His muscles tensed under my touch. “Yeah? You like that?” “I love it.” John pinned me beneath him in a single movement, his hands catching my wrists above my head, his chest firm against mine, his breath hot in my ear. “Tell me what else you like, Cat.” “I like your back… your arms…” I gasped. “But mostly, I like when you stop talking and kiss me like you did last night.” He laughed, low and dark. “Then don’t say I didn’t warn you.” And he kissed me. No pause. No softness. He kissed like he was starving. Like time was a luxury and I was his only need. His tongue met mine, deep, hot, demanding. His hands slid down, gripping my hips, my body arching up to meet his. And that’s how we spent the day. In bed. Tangled. Breathing each other in. Between kisses and touches, between hoarse laughs and dirty whispers, he showed me every part of himself: the man, the hunger, the one who doesn’t ask permission. His body moved like a perfect machine built for pleasure. And I, lost between sighs and moans, stopped thinking. We didn’t go out. We didn’t eat. We didn’t talk about the world outside. That day was all skin, mouth, tongue, and gasps. And him, smiling like he already knew I was completely his.
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The first light of day filters through the window, not as a harsh ray that wounds the dimness, but as a golden veil that caresses the shadows, and I wake slowly, feeling—before opening my eyes—the warm weight of their bodies next to mine. Demon is behind me, his solid chest pressed to my back, his breath deep and steady against my neck, and John is in front of me, so close I can count the eyelashes resting on his skin, so close that every exhale brushes my lips like a silent whisper.There’s no rush. Nothing to wait for and no one to please beyond this small world of the three of us, enclosed in the warm intimacy of rumpled sheets and the shared scent lingering in the air, a blend of night and skin. I move just slightly, with the slowness of someone afraid to break a spell, and Demon responds instinctively, tightening his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him, as if even asleep he knows he doesn’t want to let me go.John opens his eyes slowly, and his gaze meets mine—the same
Shared Desires 127. The Center of the Fire
The day doesn’t begin softly, as if from the very first moment there’s an underground current running beneath every gesture, a pulse beating hard that none of us seems to want to hide. There’s no golden silence like yesterday’s dawn; today the energy is different—sharper, more alive—and when Demon passes behind me in the kitchen and lets his hand run over my hip with blatant intention, not even pretending he’s just moving past me to grab something, I know: this is going to be a day that burns to the very last spark.John arrives barefoot, hair still damp from the shower, wearing that look that mixes curiosity with a touch of challenge, and he pauses only a second before leaning his shoulder against the doorway, watching us like he’s measuring the exact distance it’s safest to keep… though we all know he’s not going to keep any. Demon lets me go, but doesn’t step far; his gaze locks with John’s, and the tension is so visible I could trace it in the air with my finger.“Are you going to
Shared Desires 126. Breathing Together
Dawn arrives without a sound, slipping gently through the half-drawn curtain, letting a thread of golden light spill across the bed as if it wanted to caress us too. I’ve been awake for a few minutes, though I haven’t moved; I don’t want to break this moment that feels suspended in a place where time doesn’t exist. We’re naked, tangled together in a way that makes it impossible to tell where one body ends and the next begins, and the shared warmth is so dense it wraps around me like a second skin.I feel Demon’s slow breathing against my back, his chest pressed to me, his arm heavy around my waist, his hand resting just below my navel, fingers slightly curled as if he doesn’t want to lose contact even in his sleep. In front of me is John, his eyes still closed, but his hand on my thigh tells me he’s not entirely asleep, that he’s in that half-awake space where touch matters more than words.I say nothing, because there’s no need. I listen to them breathe—two different rhythms that, af
Shared Desires 125. No Way Out
The afternoon has that deceptive glow that gives no warning of what’s coming, the sun sinking slowly and the streets breathing a mild warmth that invites you to walk without haste. Demon, John, and I are walking together, with no clear destination, and although anyone watching us would think we’re just three friends strolling, the truth is that beneath that calm surface there’s a subtext that never stops pulsing, an invisible thread that binds us and keeps us taut.Demon walks to my left, his hand close enough to mine that, every now and then, our fingers brush in the faintest contact, sending a tingling up my whole arm. John, on my right, isn’t satisfied with chance: the back of his hand grazes my hip each time we take a step closer together, as if he’s measuring how many centimeters he can close the distance before it becomes too obvious.“You shouldn’t smile like that in public,” Demon murmurs without looking at me, but his deep voice reaches me like a touch on the skin. “People wi
Shared Desires 124. Marked Territory
Morning arrives heavy, wrapped in that dense air left behind by a storm, as if the whole world were still damp on the inside—and so am I. The living room smells of freshly brewed coffee, but also of something else, that mix of skin and heat that has seeped into the cushions and into my clothes from last night. I walk barefoot, dragging my fingers along the edge of the table while Demon and John are already there, one at each end, as if they’d positioned themselves strategically to force me to choose where to start.“You’re coming with me first,” Demon says, and though he says it with a studied calm, the way his eyes travel from my ankles to my neck leaves no doubt it’s not a suggestion.John leans back in his chair, resting an arm over the backrest with a tilted smile that seems to say he’s ready to challenge every inch of that claim.“That’s only because you think you can always be first,” he replies, his voice carrying that soft edge of mockery that always sparks the fire. “But you
Shared Desires 123. We Shouldn’t…
The whole night seems determined to trap us inside itself, as if the rain striking the windows weren’t just water, but a liquid wall cutting us off from the rest of the world. The wind whistles through the cracks, and now and then the wooden frame of the house groans, as though shifting its weight to endure. I stand before the large living room window, my fingers tracing lazy lines across the fogged glass, following the uneven paths of the droplets, while behind me I hear the slow, weighted steps of Demon and John. They don’t speak, but they advance as though obeying the same invisible pull.It isn’t tension—at least not exactly—it’s something denser, more enveloping, as if the silence itself had weight and temperature. The rain keeps us captive, and that captivity is warm, intimate, dangerous.“You never get tired of staring,” murmurs Demon, his voice closer than I expected. I don’t need to turn to know he’s behind me, close enough for his breath to graze my neck.“It’s hypnotic,” I
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