Zayn reaches past me, retrieving something from beside the tub that I hadn't noticed before. A box. He opens it, revealing a silicone toy in a shape I recognize immediately, the flared base unmistakable.
"Specially designed," he explains, his tone matter-of-fact despite the intimacy of the conversation. "Adjustable. We can start small, work up gradually."
I stare at the toy, heat pooling low in my belly. This is so far outside my normal experience that I should be nervous, maybe even intimidated. Instead, I'm intrigued. Turned on.
"Do many betas use these?" I ask, trying to sound casual despite the way my heart is suddenly hammering.
"Some," Dmitri answers, his hand still working magic on my foot. "Just a matter of personal choice. No pressure."
"But it could be helpful," Zayn adds, setting the box back down. "If you're interested."
Am I interested? My body certainly seems to be, responding to their touches and the mere suggestion with embarrassing eagerness. The idea of being able to take one of their knots, eventually all of their knots, is both intimidating and thrilling.
"I'm interested," I admit, my voice embarrassingly breathy. "But maybe not in the bathtub?"
Zayn chuckles, the sound vibrating against my back. "Fair enough. Bedroom's more comfortable anyway."
"We'll finish the bath first," Dmitri says firmly, giving Zayn a look I can't interpret. "No rush."
There's a brief pause, a silent communication passing between them that I'm not privy to. Then Zayn relaxes against me again, his hands returning to my shoulders.
"The big guy's right," he concedes. "Let's enjoy this first."
What follows is perhaps the most sensual bath of my life. The two of them take turns washing me, their hands gentle but thorough as they soap every inch of skin. Zayn is efficient but attentive, his touches clinical until they suddenly aren't, lingering just long enough to make me gasp. Dmitri is methodical, treating each part of me like it deserves careful consideration, his large hands surprisingly delicate.
By the time they help me from the tub, I'm flushed and trembling with need, water streaming down my body as Dmitri wraps me in a plush towel.
"Whose room?" I ask, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.
"Mine," Zayn decides, already leading the way. He doesn't bother with clothes, padding naked down the hallway with complete confidence.
Dmitri follows suit, and I find myself walking between two nude hockey players through an absurdly expensive house, wrapped only in a towel. My life has taken a decidedly surreal turn.
Zayn's bedroom reflects him perfectly, minimalist but expensive. Dark wood furniture, crisp white bedding, everything clean-lined and intentional. The only personal touches are the books stacked neatly on the nightstand and a single framed photo I can't make out from this distance.
"Make yourself comfortable," he says, gesturing to the king-sized bed.
I hesitate only briefly before letting the towel drop and climbing onto the bed. Their eyes follow me, Zayn's sharp and assessing, Dmitri's warm with approval.
"Beautiful," Dmitri says simply, joining me on the bed. He sits beside me, not touching yet, just close enough that I can feel the heat from his skin.
"Very," Zayn agrees, retrieving the box from wherever he stashed it before our bathing adventures. "And brave."
The compliment catches me off guard. "Brave?"
"Taking on five athletic alphas,” he clarifies, setting the box on the nightstand. "Not everyone would be so... adaptable."
I hadn't thought of it that way. "I'm just following where this feels right."
"Good instincts," Dmitri murmurs, finally touching me, a broad hand cupping my face, his thumb brushing my cheekbone. "Trust them."
His touch is gentle but firm, grounding me in the moment. I lean into it, surprised by how much I crave the contact. I never realized just how touch starved I was until this pack couldn't keep their hands off me.
"So," Zayn says, joining us on the bed, "ground rules. You say stop, we stop. You say slower, we go slower. Clear?"
I nod, appreciating the directness. "Clear."
"Good girl," he says, the praise sending a surge of heat between my thighs.
