Chapter 3: Claimed Between Heat and Hunger
The air in Lana’s tiny studio apartment was soup. Thick, stagnant, tasting faintly of dust and desperation. The corpse of her AC unit lay disemboweled on the floor near the kitchenette, wires spilling out like pale entrails. Sweat beaded instantly on her forehead, tracing paths down her temples as she leaned back against the blessedly cool metal of the refrigerator door. The last dregs of the pistachio disaster, smuggled home in its crumpled cup, sat forgotten on the counter.
She pressed the cold glass bottle of water to her neck, closing her eyes. Breathe. Nico’s rigid silence. Jace’s uncharacteristic hardness. The word share hanging like toxic vapor in the studio’s golden gloom. It echoed now, mingling with the distant thrum of Sunset Boulevard traffic. Impossible. Ridiculous. Yet the image wouldn't leave: Jace’s hungry stare, Nico’s raw anguish, both focused solely on her. Her skin prickled, a confusing mix of residual panic and something else, something hot and forbidden.
A sharp rap on the door. Not her buzzer. Someone was already in the building. Her heart stuttered. Before she could even fully form the thought Nico?, another, heavier knock followed. Jace? Or worse… both?
She moved to the door, the cheap linoleum sticky under her bare feet. Peering through the fisheye lens warped their familiar faces into grotesque parodies. Nico, jaw clenched, eyes shadowed. Jace, no trace of his usual easy grin, his expression intent, almost grim. The earlier tension hadn't dissipated; it had followed her home, condensed.
She opened the door a crack, the chain still latched. The wave of hall heat hit her. "Hey. What's up?" Her voice sounded thin, strained.
"Can we come in, Lana?" Jace asked, his tone low, lacking its usual playful lilt. It wasn't really a question.
Nico said nothing, just looked at her, that intense brown gaze stripping away the flimsy barrier of the chain. The silence stretched, thick as the air. Lana swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. The pistachio stain on her thigh felt fresh again, a brand. Slowly, fingers trembling slightly, she slid the chain free.
They pushed inside, not roughly, but with a purpose that stole the air from the room. Jace closed the door softly behind them, the click of the lock echoing loudly. The apartment felt impossibly smaller, charged like the air before a storm. Lana backed up instinctively, the cool metal of the refrigerator pressing into her spine.
"What are you doing here?" she managed, clutching the water bottle like a shield. "Did you… talk?"
Jace moved first. He stepped right into her space, his larger frame blocking her view of Nico. Sunlight from the window caught the gold in his hair, but his green eyes were dark, serious. "We talked." His gaze dropped to the faint green smear on her thigh, visible where her short sundress rode up. "About you."
Nico flanked her other side, silent but radiating a coiled tension. His proximity was different than Jace’s – darker, more magnetic. He smelled of dust and old wood, the scent of his studio clinging to him. His eyes traced the line of her collarbone, her neck, then met hers. The raw longing she’d glimpsed earlier was back, unmasked now, mixed with a fierce possessiveness that stole her breath.
Lana pressed harder against the fridge, the cold metal biting through the thin fabric of her dress. "Look, whatever weirdness happened at Nico's… it was just the heat. The ice cream. Let's just forget—"
"We can't, Lana," Nico interrupted, his voice rough, grating. He reached out, not touching her, but his hand hovered near her bare arm. "Not anymore."
Jace’s hand landed on her other hip, warm and heavy. His thumb brushed the damp fabric near the pistachio stain. "He’s right. The pretending… it’s done." His other hand came up, fingertips tracing the curve of her jaw, tilting her face towards him. "We both want you." The admission hung in the stifling air, shocking in its bluntness. "Always have."
Lana’s mind reeled. We. The word vibrated through her. She tried to jerk her head away, but Jace held her gaze, his intensity pinning her as surely as his body blocked her escape. "You can't both— That's insane, Jace!" Her protest sounded weak, drowned out by the frantic hammering in her chest.
"Why?" Nico countered, stepping even closer. His chest almost touched her shoulder. His breath stirred the fine hairs at her temple. His hand finally touched her, fingers sliding up her bare arm, sending shivers despite the heat. "Why is it insane? Because it’s not the tidy little box everyone expects?" His voice dropped to a low murmur meant only for her. "Because we’re supposed to pretend we don’t burn for you? Every damn day?"
Jace leaned in, his lips hovering near her ear, his hand sliding from her hip around to the small of her back, pulling her fractionally away from the fridge, into the heat radiating between them. "We saw it, Lana. In the studio. That spark… that hunger. It wasn't just us. It was you too." His other hand slid into her hair, tangling gently in the fiery strands. "Admit it."
Lana’s defenses crumbled. The heat, the proximity, the years of suppressed desire crashing over her like a wave. She felt Nico’s hand tighten slightly on her arm, possessive. Jace’s fingers in her hair were an anchor, demanding her response. The sticky pistachio trail on her thigh felt absurdly erotic now, a mark of the chaos that preceded this moment.
"I…" she choked out, dizzy. "It's messy. Complicated."
Nico’s chuckle was dark, devoid of humor. "Life’s messy." His lips brushed her shoulder, the touch feather-light yet electrifying. "Are you afraid, Lana?"
Jace’s thumb traced her lower lip. "Or are you curious?" His green eyes held hers, offering not just desire, but a terrifying, exhilarating pact. "Let us show you how uncomplicated it can be. Right now."
His head dipped, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss that was nothing like his usual playful pecks. It was deep, demanding, a searing brand of possession. Lana gasped against his lips, a sound Nico swallowed with a low groan as he pressed closer, his hand sliding down her arm, over her hip, tracing the sticky, cooled path of the ice cream down the curve of her thigh. His touch wasn't gentle; it was mapping territory, claiming a share.
Jace broke the kiss, breathing ragged, his gaze locked with hers, wild and questioning. Nico’s fingers lingered on her thigh, the stickiness a tactile reminder of the studio, of the fall that started this. He leaned in, his lips replacing his fingers, tasting the sweet-salty residue on her skin. A shudder ripped through Lana.
"See?" Jace murmured, his hand tightening possessively in her hair as he watched Nico. "Simple." He kissed her again, harder, his body pinning her against the fridge, while Nico’s mouth moved higher on her thigh, his hands gripping her hips. The cool metal was forgotten, replaced by the scorching heat of two bodies, two sets of hands, two distinct, overwhelming waves of desire crashing over her, dragging her under a current she’d spent years swimming against. Resistance wasn't an option anymore. There was only this suffocating heat, the shared claim, and the terrifying, exhilarating plunge into the unknown.
The suffocating heat, the shared claim, the terrifying, exhilarating plunge – it wasn't a plunge into darkness, but into blinding, overwhelming sensation. Jace’s kiss was wildfire, consuming, demanding an echo she couldn’t contain. Nico’s mouth, hot and purposeful against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh where the pistachio ice cream had cooled, sent impossible arcs of electricity straight to her core. Her head thudded back against the fridge door, a helpless gasp escaping as Nico’s fingers dug possessively into the flesh of her hips, pulling her slightly forward against Jace’s solid frame.
"Jace—" she choked out, not a protest, but a fractured sound lost against his lips. He deepened the kiss, his hand sliding from her hair down her neck, tracing the frantic pulse there. Nico’s lips moved higher, bypassing the damp hem of her sundress, his teeth grazing the delicate skin just below her hip bone. A jolt ripped through her, sharp and involuntary, her knees buckling. Jace’s arm locked around her waist instantly, holding her upright, his grip firm, anchoring her in the storm.
"Still complicated?" Nico murmured against her skin, his breath a hot brand. His other hand slid under the fabric, rough fingertips finding the curve of her ass, pulling her harder against his seeking mouth. The intimacy was devastating, a direct assault on her carefully constructed walls. Jace finally broke the kiss, his breathing ragged, his eyes, usually clear green, dark and stormy as he watched Nico’s dark head bent over her thigh.
He shifted his hand, cupping her cheek, forcing her tear-blurred gaze to meet his. "Lana." Her name was a rough scrape of sound. "Tell us to stop. Right now, and we walk out that door." His thumb brushed a tear she hadn’t even felt escape. "This ends."
The words hung there, a lifeline thrown into the churning sea. Nico stilled, his lips pressed against her skin, waiting. The silence stretched, thick and charged, punctuated only by their harsh breathing and the distant, relentless hum of LA traffic. It was the out. The safe return to friendship, however fractured. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. Stop. Say stop.
Nico lifted his head slightly, his dark eyes locking onto hers, intense, unreadable. He didn’t speak, just held her gaze, a silent challenge, a question etched into every hard line of his face. His thumb traced the sticky, cooling path on her thigh, the ghost of the ice cream, the spark that ignited this. The touch wasn't gentle; it was a brand, a reminder of the precipice.
Jace’s grip tightened almost imperceptibly on her waist. "Lan?" The nickname, familiar, grounding, cracked something open inside her. The suffocating pressure, the impossible choice, the sheer relief of the secrecy finally shattering – it detonated. A sob tore from her throat, raw and unexpected. Not of fear or pain, but of a profound, dizzying release.
Tears streamed down her face, hot and unchecked, mingling with the sweat on her skin. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t form the denial her rational mind screamed for. She could only shake her head violently, burying her face against Jace’s neck, her fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt. "No," she managed, the word muffled, thick with tears. "Don’t stop."
Nico surged upward instantly, his hand sliding from under her dress to cup her face, turning it towards him. His expression was fierce, triumphant, desperate. "Why?" he demanded, his voice low and urgent, his thumb catching another tear. "Tell us why."
The dam broke completely. The confession, locked away for years, tumbled out amidst the joyful, terrified tears. "Because it’s all I’ve wanted," she gasped, the words tripping over each other. "For so long. Both of you. Together. Feeling... feeling this. It was my secret... my impossible, stupid fantasy." She hiccuped, a half-laugh lost in another sob. "Seeing you... wanting me... like this..."
Jace froze, the tension in his body shifting from demanding to stunned comprehension. "Your... fantasy?" he breathed, pulling back just enough to see her face fully, his green eyes wide with disbelief and dawning, fierce elation. "This?
Nico didn't hesitate. His mouth crashed onto hers, swallowing her next sob, his kiss a scorching brand of possession and shared revelation. He kissed her with a ferocity that stole her breath, his fingers tangling in her sweat-dampened red hair. "Just us," he growled against her lips, pulling back slightly, his dark eyes burning into hers. "No fantasy now."
The echo of Nico’s words – "No fantasy now" – hung in the heavy air, sharper than the scent of melted pistachio still clinging to Lana’s skin. His kiss had been a wildfire, demanding and possessive, leaving her lips tingling and her mind reeling. Jace’s hand remained anchored at her waist, a solid counterpoint to Nico’s intensity, his green eyes wide with stunned wonder as he processed her tearful confession. Both of them. For so long. The sheer impossibility of it, the raw honesty hanging between them, replaced the frantic heat of moments before with a different kind of electricity: vulnerable, terrifying, real.
Lana’s legs gave out. Not from weakness, but from the sheer weight of release. She sagged between them, a choked sob escaping her throat. Instantly, Jace’s grip tightened, holding her secure against his chest. "Hey," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion, his lips brushing her sweat-dampened temple. "Easy. Got you."
Nico didn’t recoil. Instead, his rigid posture dissolved. He shifted, his dark head dipping, his forehead resting gently against her shoulder. His hand, moments ago claiming territory with possessive heat, slid up her spine in a slow, grounding stroke. The contrast – Jace’s firm support, Nico’s unexpected tenderness – shattered her final resistance. A wave of pure, aching relief washed over her, leaving her trembling.
"God, you two," she whispered, the sound muffled against Jace’s shirt. Another sob hitched, mixing with a shaky, incredulous laugh. "Look at us. Sticky, gross, crying on my busted fridge."
Jace chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, a warm vibration against her cheek. "Kinda poetic, actually. Our whole mess." His thumb brushed away a stray tear tracking through the faint dusting of freckles on her arm. "You okay?"
Nico lifted his head, his dark eyes searching hers. No trace of the brooding artist’s mask remained; just stark, open concern. "Lana?" His voice was gravelly. "We don’t… push. Not ever."
The sincerity in his gaze, the raw care beneath Jace’s playful facade, undid her completely. The frantic energy, the desperate clash of desire, melted into something softer, profound. She didn’t have words. Instead, she reached out blindly, her arms finding their way around Nico’s waist, pulling him close against her other side. She buried her face between them, inhaling the mingled scents of Jace’s clean sweat and Nico’s studio dust, the comforting familiarity cutting through the chaos. It was instinctual, a desperate need for the anchor of their presence, the physical reassurance that this seismic shift hadn’t shattered the core of them.
Jace’s arms encircled her fully, pulling her tight against him, his chin resting on her fiery hair. Nico hesitated only a heartbeat before his arms wrapped around her back, completing the circle. They stood there, locked together against the humming refrigerator door, a tangle of limbs and damp skin and shared, shuddering breaths. The silence wasn’t charged with tension anymore; it was thick with a stunned, fragile intimacy. Lana felt cocooned, safe for the first time in years, the oppressive heat of the apartment momentarily forgotten. This hug wasn’t casual friendship; it was a lifeline, a silent acknowledgment of the chasm they’d just leapt across together.
Slowly, the intensity of the embrace softened. Jace shifted, loosening his hold slightly. "Couch?" he suggested quietly, his voice still husky. "My back’s protesting the fridge decor."
Nico nodded, unwinding his arms but keeping one hand resting lightly on Lana’s hip. "Yeah." His gaze flickered to the pistachio smear on her thigh, a faint ghost of a smile touching his lips. "Maybe avoid sticky surfaces for a minute."
A genuine, watery laugh escaped Lana. She swatted weakly at Nico’s arm. "Shut up." She let them guide her, stumbling slightly as her shaky legs remembered how to move, away from the cool metal towards the worn, sun-faded couch wedged under the open window. The defeated AC unit lay forgotten on the floor nearby, wires still dangling.
They sank onto the cushions, the cheap springs groaning. Jace sprawled at one end, pulling Lana sideways onto his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. She curled into him, her head resting on his shoulder, her legs tucking up. Nico settled on her other side, close, his thigh pressed solidly against hers, his arm draping along the back of the couch behind her shoulders. She felt enveloped, surrounded by their warmth and presence. The late afternoon sun slanted in, casting long, dusty beams across the room, highlighting the faint shimmer of dried tears on her cheeks and the lingering stickiness on her skin.
Silence settled again, but it was different now. Comfortable, charged with a new awareness rather than panic. Lana traced a bead of sweat trickling down Jace’s neck with a fingertip. Nico’s thumb absently brushed the curve of her shoulder where his arm rested. The frantic pulse of the studio, the desperate collision against the fridge, seemed like scenes from another life. Here, tangled on the couch in the humid stillness, the enormity of what they’d admitted, what they’d started, felt almost manageable. Almost.
Jace broke the quiet first, his voice low and thoughtful in the warm air. "So… that day," he started, his fingers idly playing with a strand of her fiery hair. "At the farmers' market. Two summers back." He paused. "You were arguing with that vendor over bruised peaches. Going full dragon lady, hair practically sparking." A soft chuckle. "You were so… ferocious. And kinda beautiful, yelling about fruit. That’s when I knew it wasn’t just… easy anymore. That it was something else."
Lana blinked, turning her head slightly to look up at him. "The peach guy? Seriously? You picked that moment?" She remembered the incident – the vendor trying to pawn off overripe fruit at premium prices. Her temper had flared, righteous and loud. "I thought you were laughing at me!"
"Wasn't laughing," Jace murmured, meeting her gaze, his green eyes serious. "Was captivated. Terrified. Realized I’d been lying to myself for months." He glanced across her at Nico. "Started noticing how Nico watched you around then too. Made it harder to ignore."
Nico shifted beside her. The silence stretched, filled only by the distant city drone. Lana felt the subtle tension return to the arm resting behind her shoulders. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, rougher than usual. "Earlier." He cleared his throat. "Much earlier. The open mic night at The Basement. Before Jace even moved into the building."
Lana frowned, searching her memory. The Basement? That dive bar with the terrible sound system? Years ago. "What happened?"
"You were designing flyers for the weekly bands," Nico continued, his gaze fixed on the sunbeam cutting across the dusty floorboards. "Came down to hear the band you’d done the art for. That godawful ska-punk group." He paused. "The sound cut out mid-set. Total chaos. Guitar feedback screaming. Singer yelling."
Lana remembered the cacophony, the embarrassed band, the irritated crowd. "Yeah… it was a mess."
"You," Nico said, turning his head to look down at her, his dark eyes intense. "You just… climbed onto the stage. Didn't ask. Grabbed the mic stand from the sputtering singer. Started making jokes about faulty wiring and questionable life choices." A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. "You had the whole damn place laughing in thirty seconds. Calmed the band down. Saved the night." He looked away again, his jaw tightening slightly. "Saw you standing there in that cheap spotlight, red hair like fire, owning that disaster… Felt like I’d been punched. Couldn't look away. Couldn't breathe right for days after." He let out a slow breath. "Knew then. Knew it was trouble."
Lana stared at him, stunned. That chaotic night felt like ancient history, a minor blip. She’d just been trying to diffuse the awkwardness. She’d had no idea Nico was even there, let alone… "You never said anything," she whispered. "Not a word."
His dark eyes met hers again, holding a depth of feeling that stole her breath. "Neither did you," he countered softly, his thumb brushing her shoulder again, a silent echo of the years of hidden longing.
The weight of their confessions settled over the couch, thick and warm as the LA air. Her impossible fantasy, born in secret, had roots that ran years deep in both of them. She nestled further into Jace’s solid warmth, feeling Nico’s presence like a grounding current along her side. The setting sun painted the room in deepening gold, glinting off the abandoned AC unit and the faint, dried trails on their skin. Outside, the city hummed its endless song. Inside, the silence held its breath.