I woke to the particular hush of snow outside and bodies breathing inside. The joined beds felt like Love Island; I was centered between Dad and Julian, Elise curled against her husband’s back like a comma. Firelight had died to embers, but the room still held warmth — skin, breath, the faint mineral tang of sex that never quite leaves a space after a night like last night.
Dad was already half-hard pressing against my ass, his cock nestled in the crease where thigh meets cheek, thick and comforting. Julian stirred on my other side, his heavier shaft resting along my hip, twitching once as consciousness returned. Elise’s eyes were open across the pillows; she watched me with a quiet, knowing smile, green eyes luminous in the low light. She hadn’t been asleep. She’d been waiting.
She reached across Julian’s chest and traced one fingertip down the center of my sternum, slow enough to raise goosebumps. Her voice was barely above a whisper.