Chapter 23: The Washing
The first gray light bled through the studio windows like water through linen, soft and colorless. Blossom rose from where she lay between Amber and Lola, her body moving with the slow grace of someone who had not quite left the dream behind. She touched Amber's shoulder first, a feather-light brush, then Lola's hip, then she crossed to where Alex and Stacey lay tangled together on a pile of mats and cushions.
"Come outside," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "No clothes. No words. Just the cold air and the warmth I've made."
Amber groaned, pulling a cushion over her head. Blossom removed it gently, her fingers lingering on Amber's cheek. "Up, little one. Trust me."
The mushroom's residue still hummed in their blood, a faint harmonic that made the gray light seem to breathe. One by one, they rose, naked and un-self-conscious, following Blossom out the studio door and into the dense, wet grass of the garden.
The cold hit Alex like a slap. The dew soaked his feet and ankles, and the air bit at his skin, raising goosebumps across his chest and arms. The tall, uncut grass brushed against his thighs as he walked, and he heard Amber's sharp intake of breath beside him, a gasp that was half shock and half delight.
Blossom led them to the edge of the garden, where four large metal washbins sat in a loose semicircle, steam curling lazily from their surfaces. The rising sun had just begun to crest the treeline, painting the steam in shades of pale gold and rose. On a low wooden bench lay fat natural sponges, rough and sea-colored, and a single bar of honey soap, dark amber and fragrant.
Blossom stepped into the nearest tub, her long auburn hair trailing behind her like a curtain of fire against the pale morning. The water swallowed her lithe frame, and she let out a soft, satisfied sigh. Her pale green eyes found each of them in turn, holding them, inviting.
"Come in," she said. "Warm yourselves."
Lola moved first, sliding into the tub beside Blossom's, her dark hair slicking back from her face as she sank into the water. She made a low sound of approval, her eyes closing. Amber hesitated only a moment, then climbed into the tub on Blossom's other side, the water sloshing over the rim as she settled.
Alex looked at Stacey. She stood a few feet away, her tall, athletic body covered in goosebumps, her dark hair loose around her shoulders. She met his gaze, and something passed between them, a wordless understanding that felt heavier than the cold air.
He reached for her hand, and she took it.
They moved to the last tub, side by side, and stepped in together. The water was almost too hot at first, the shock of it driving the breath from Alex's lungs, but then the heat seeped into his bones and he felt the cold melt away from his skin. Stacey settled beside him, the water rising to their chests, her thigh pressing warm against his.
Nobody spoke. The only sounds were the soft ripple of water, the distant call of a bird, and the labored breath of steam rising into the morning. Blossom reached for a sponge and the bar of honey soap, and she began to wash herself with slow, deliberate strokes, her eyes closed, her body swaying slightly as if in prayer.
Amber watched her, then reached for her own sponge. Lola did the same. Alex felt the warmth of the water and the faint lingering hum of the mushrooms, and he found himself reaching for the bench, his fingers closing around a sponge and the bar of soap.
Stacey's hand covered his, stilling him. She took the soap from him, scraped a thin piece off with her thumb, and pressed it to his lips.
"Open," she said, soft.
He opened his mouth, and she placed the morsel of honey soap on his tongue. The taste was sweet and earthy, almost floral, and he let it dissolve as she took the sponge and worked it into a lather, her hands moving slowly, deliberately.
She washed his chest first, the rough sponge dragging over his skin in slow circles. Then she moved lower, her fingers following the sponge, tracing the lines of his muscles. The water lapped around them, and he could feel the heat of her body beside him, the length of her thigh against his.
He took the sponge from her and returned the favor, washing her arms, her shoulders, the small of her back. She sighed and leaned into his touch, her head falling to rest against his shoulder.
Across the circle, Blossom had finished washing herself and had turned to Amber, cupping water in her hands and letting it run down the girl's back. Amber giggled, a soft, contented sound, and reached back to touch Blossom's knee.
Lola watched them with a half-smile, her dark eyes soft, and Alex saw something in her expression that he could not name. Relief, perhaps. Or gratitude.
The sun crested the treeline fully, and the steam turned from gold to white, blazing in the new light. Alex looked at Stacey, her face wet with mist and soap, her dark eyes bright with something that might have been love.
"Thank you," he said, quiet.
She smiled, and the water rippled as she shifted closer to him, her body settling against his, warm and solid and real.
She smiled, and the water rippled as she shifted closer to him, her body settling against his, warm and solid and real. The honey soap dissolved on his tongue, and he swallowed, tasting the faint sweetness at the back of his throat.
Across the circle, Lola rose from her tub with a soft sigh, water sluicing down her curves. She stepped onto the grass, dew pooling around her feet, and gathered a towel from the bench that Alex had not noticed before. Blossom followed, her auburn hair dripping, and together they coaxed Amber from her basin. The girl was half asleep, her blonde curls plastered to her cheeks, and she leaned heavily on Lola as they walked back toward the house.
"Come inside when you're ready," Blossom said, looking back over her shoulder. Her pale green eyes found Alex, then Stacey, and a small knowing smile curved her lips. "The warmth will keep." She turned and followed the others, her bare feet leaving dark prints in the dew.
The garden settled into silence. The steam rose from the four washbins, curling upward into the gold-white light of the new sun. Alex let out a breath he had not realized he was holding, and the hum of the mushrooms, that faint harmonic, seemed to fade further into the background of his senses.
Stacey shifted beside him, her thigh pressing more firmly against his. She trailed a wet hand up his arm, her fingers leaving a cool trail on his warm skin. "You said thank you," she said, her voice quiet, almost hesitant. "That's not what I need to hear right now."
He turned to face her. The water rippled between them. "What do you need to hear?"
She looked at him, her dark eyes searching his face. The morning light caught the wet strands of her hair, turning them the color of old copper. "Last night. What you said. What I said." She paused, and he watched her throat move as she swallowed. "The mushrooms were strong. I need to know if that was real."
Alex reached out and cupped her face, his thumb brushing the damp skin of her cheek. He could feel the heat of her, the thrum of her pulse under his hand. "I meant it," he said. "I love you. And I didn't say it because of the mushrooms. I said it because you were inside me, and I have never felt that close to anyone in my life."
Her breath caught. For a moment she just looked at him, and then she pulled him into a kiss, deep and slow, her tongue sliding against his. He tasted honey soap and her, and he let himself fall into it, his hand sliding from her face to the nape of her neck, pulling her closer.
The water sloshed as she shifted, and he felt her hand find him under the surface. Her fingers wrapped around his half-hard cock, gentle and sure, and he groaned against her mouth as she stroked him. "I love you too," she murmured against his lips. "And I have been thinking about being inside you since the first time, since the first moment I saw you on that field with Amber."
He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against hers. The steam curled around them, and the water was warm, almost too warm, but her touch was better. "Then take me," he said. "I want you in me."
Her eyes darkened. She guided him up, and he rose from the water, rivulets streaming down his body. The cold air bit at his wet skin, but the heat of her gaze was enough to keep the shiver from his bones. She turned in the tub, her back against the side, her legs parting beneath the surface, and reached for him.
"Come here," she said, and it was not a request.
Alex moved into her arms, straddling her thighs in the water. Her cock rose between them, thick and hard, flushed dark against her pale skin, the water lapping at the base of it. He wrapped his hand around it and stroked her, once, twice, feeling the heat of her, the weight.
She let out a low groan, her head falling back against the metal rim. "You're going to kill me," she said, her voice rough.
He shifted, positioning himself over her. Her hand found his hip, steadying him, and he reached down and guided her cock to his hole. The head pressed against him, and he paused, breathing through the anticipation.
"I love you," he said again, and then he sank down.
The fullness of her stretched him, filled him, and he let out a long, shuddering groan as she seated herself deep inside him. The water swirled around them, lapping at the rim of the tub, and he felt her pulse inside him, a steady thrum that matched his own heartbeat.
Stacey's hands gripped his hips, her fingers digging into his skin. "Fuck," she breathed. "Alex. You feel incredible."
He began to move, rising and falling on her slowly, a rhythm born of the water and the morning and the quiet hum that still lingered in his blood. Each descent pushed her deeper, and each rise left him aching for her. She moved with him, her hips tilting to meet his, her cock sliding wet and thick inside him.
The water sloshed with every motion, lapping over the edges of the tub and down their thighs. He braced his hands on her shoulders, looking down at her, and she looked back up at him, her dark eyes never leaving his face.
"This is real," he said, punctuating each word with a slow, deliberate thrust. "This is me. I love you."
Her face twisted, raw and open. "I love you," she said, her voice cracking. "I love you so much it scares me."
He leaned down and kissed her, swallowing her words, and she thrust up into him, harder, faster. The water churned around them, and he moaned into her mouth, the pleasure building low in his belly. She broke the kiss and buried her face in his neck, her hot breath against his skin, her hands sliding down his back to grip his ass, guiding his rhythm.
"Don't stop," she said, her voice a desperate whisper. "Don't ever stop."
He didn't. He rose and fell on her cock, the water splashing and sloshing around them, the sun blazing down on their wet skin. He could feel his climax coiling in his gut, and he could feel her throb inside him, that telltale pulse that meant she was close.
"Inside me," he said, his voice ragged. "Come inside me. I want to feel it."
She roared, a low, guttural sound that was almost a sob, and she drove up into him with a violence that sent water cascading over the rim. He clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his own cry as her cock swelled and then pulsed, hot her come flooding him, filling him. The sensation pushed him over the edge, and he came with a strangled gasp, his body convulsing around her, his come streaking hot through the water between them.
They held each other in the wreckage of the tub, breathing hard, the steam curling around them like a benediction. Stacey's hands were gentle now, stroking his back, his sides, and he sagged against her, spent and full and happier than he could ever remember being.
She laughed, a soft, wet sound. "The water's cold," she said.
He laughed too. "I don't care."
She kissed his forehead, then his nose, then his lips. He climbed off her carefully, wincing at the ache, and she pulled him down to sit beside her, his back against her chest, her arms wrapped around him. The sun had climbed fully over the treeline, and the garden was bright and warm.
"Thank you," she whispered against his hair. "For loving me."
He turned his head and kissed her jaw. "Thank you for letting me."
They sat in the water, watching the steam rise and fade, and he let himself believe, fully and completely, that this was a story he never had to wake from.
The warmth of the tub had begun to fade by the time he finally stirred. Stacey's arms were still wrapped around him, her cheek pressed to his hair, her breathing slow and even. The garden was bright now, the dew already burning off the grass, and the steam had thinned to a faint whisper above the water.
"Come on," he said softly. "Inside. Before we prune."
She laughed, a loose, contented sound, and let him help her to her feet. They stepped out onto the wet grass, naked and dripping, and walked hand in hand through the garden and into the house. The kitchen was empty, the living room quiet. Someone had left a pot of coffee on the counter, and the smell of it hung in the air, warm and inviting.
He led her to his room. His bed was unmade, the sheets rumpled from the night before, and the morning light fell across the pillows in a pale gold stripe. She climbed in first, curling onto her side, and he slid in behind her, his chest against her back, his arm over her waist. She sighed and pressed back into him, and within minutes they were both asleep.
The light had changed by the time he woke. It was afternoon now, the sun high and white through the window, and the room was warm. He blinked, disoriented, and felt Stacey shift beside him. She was still there, still pressed against him, her dark hair spread across the pillow.
The door opened without a knock.
Amber stood in the doorway, wearing nothing but a faded tank top, her blonde curls a wild halo around her face. She was holding a glass of water in one hand and grinning like she'd just found buried treasure.
"You're awake!" she said, bouncing on her bare feet. "Finally. I've been pacing the hallway for, like, an hour."
Stacey groaned, rolling over, and squinted at the cheerleader. "Amber. What time is it?"
"Early afternoon," Amber said, crossing the room and perching on the edge of the bed. "You guys missed breakfast and lunch, but Lola said not to wake you, so I didn't. But I'm here now, so. Hi."
Alex pushed himself up on his elbows, the sheets pooling around his waist. "Hi."
Amber's grin widened. She set the glass of water on the nightstand and scooted closer, her knees brushing his thigh through the blanket. "So. That night. That was. I mean. Wow."
"It was something," Stacey agreed, her voice still rough with sleep. She sat up, the sheet falling to her waist, and Amber's eyes flicked down, then back up, unabashed.
"I've been thinking," Amber said, chewing her lip. "All morning. About you two. About what you said last night. And I just. I need to know. Are you still. Available?"
Alex blinked. "Available?"
"To me," Amber said, and for a moment her usual bright confidence flickered, something vulnerable showing underneath. "I know you two are, like, a thing now. That's amazing. I'm happy for you. But I don't want to lose what we have. The three of us. The thing we did at Stacey's place, and in the studio, and. You know. I just want to know if I'm still allowed to want you both."
Stacey reached out and took Amber's hand. "Amber. You're the reason we're together. You dragged me into this whole thing, you pushed me toward him, you. You're part of this. You'll always be part of this."
Amber's eyes went bright, and she blinked rapidly. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," Alex said. He sat up fully and took her other hand. "We're going to share a room now, Stacey and me. But that doesn't mean the door is closed. You're still welcome. As long as you can handle us both at the same time."
Amber's grin returned, bigger than ever. "Handle you both? Please. I've been waiting for this. I've been waiting for this since that shower at Stacey's place."
"Is that so?" Stacey asked, her voice dropping, a smile curling the corner of her mouth.
"Uh-huh." Amber was already climbing onto the bed, the tank top riding up her thighs. "I've been thinking about it all morning. About what it'd be like to have you both at once. To be, like, completely surrounded."
Stacey looked at Alex, and he saw the question in her eyes. He nodded.
Amber was on her back in seconds, her tank top pulled over her head and tossed to the floor. She was already wet, her thighs spread, her hand sliding down her belly. "Come on," she said, her voice breathy. "Don't make me beg."
Stacey moved first. She slid down the bed, between Amber's spread thighs, and lowered her mouth to the girl's cunt. Amber gasped, her back arching, her fingers tangling in Stacey's dark hair. Alex watched for a moment, the sight of Stacey's tongue working Amber's slick folds sending a surge of heat through him. Then he moved too, positioning himself above Amber, his cock already hard and leaking.
"Look at me," he said, and Amber's bright blue eyes found his.
He pushed into her in one slow, smooth stroke. She cried out, her mouth falling open, her hands gripping the sheets. Stacey's tongue kept working her clit in tight, circling strokes, and Alex set a rhythm, pulling out almost all the way and slamming back in, her cunt gripping him wet and tight.
"Oh fuck," Amber moaned, her head thrashing on the pillow. "Oh fuck. Both of you. That's. Fuck."
Stacey lifted her mouth just long enough to say, "You wanted to be surrounded, little one. Now take it."
Amber's answer was a wordless cry as Stacey's tongue returned, flicking her clit while Alex pounded into her. The room filled with the sounds of it, the wet slap of his hips against her thighs, Stacey's muffled groans, Amber's high, keening whimpers.
"Don't come yet," Stacey said, pulling back, her chin wet and shining. "Not yet."
Amber whined in protest, but Stacey was already moving, climbing up the bed, straddling Amber's shoulders. Her cock hung above Amber's face, thick and flushed, and she lowered herself until the head pressed against Amber's lips.
"Suck me," Stacey said, and Amber obeyed, her mouth opening wide, taking Stacey deep. Alex watched, mesmerized, as Stacey's hips began to rock, pushing her cock down Amber's throat, while he kept thrusting beneath them.
"Like that," Stacey groaned, her head falling back. "Fuck, Amber. Just like that."
The rhythm built between the three of them, a three-beat pulse, Stacey's hips driving into Amber's mouth, Alex's cock driving into her cunt. Amber's hands clawed at Stacey's thighs, her muffled moans vibrating around her cock, and Alex could feel her whole body trembling, right on the edge.
"Let go," he said, his voice ragged. "Come for us, Amber. Let us feel it."
Amber screamed around Stacey's dick, her body convulsing, her cunt clamping down on Alex with a violent, pulsing grip. The sensation ripped through him, and he buried himself to the hilt, emptying himself inside her with a long, guttural groan. At the same moment Stacey pulled out of Amber's mouth and came, hot and thick, painting the girl's face and open mouth, her load splashing across Amber's cheeks and chin.
Amber swallowed what she could, moaning through her own climax, her body shuddering between them. For a long moment the three of them lay tangled, breathing hard, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the rumpled sheets.
"Fuck," Amber said finally, her voice hoarse. "Best. Nap. Ever."
Alex laughed, and Stacey collapsed beside them, her hand finding Amber's, her other hand finding his. They lay there, the three of them, a warm tangle of limbs and satisfied breath.
A soft sound drew his eye to the doorway.
Lola stood there, leaning against the frame, a mug of coffee cradled in both hands. She was wearing her black silk robe, and her dark eyes were soft, watching them with a quiet, satisfied smile. She raised the mug in a small salute.
"Good afternoon," she said. "I made pot roast. Come down when you're ready."
She turned and walked away, her footsteps fading down the hall. Amber giggled, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "She's so cool."
Stacey hummed, her eyes still closed. "She is."
Alex looked at the empty doorway. Lola's smile lingered in his mind, warm and approving. He pulled the sheet up over the three of them and closed his eyes, feeling the weight of the women beside him, the hum of the morning finally fading into a quiet, contented stillness.