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“Goddamnit.”
You rouse from a light sleep at the sound of Benny’s voice out in the hallway, slowly sitting up and blinking as your eyes adjust. A shudder runs down your spine when your comforter falls down off of your shoulders—it’s freezing.
Groaning, you slip out of bed, scooping up a small pile of material on the floor that vaguely resembles a sweatshirt before padding across the room to peek out the door. Your roommates, Benny and Santiago, are both standing in front of the thermostat, arms crossed and faces equally fraught with annoyance.
“Did the heater stop working again?” you casually ask, leaning against the door frame.
Santi glances over at you, all pillow-soft curls and tired eyes, and furrows his brows. “Is that my sweatshirt?”
Glancing down at it, you realize that yes, indeed it is. “Maybe,” you reply with a grin, walking over to them.
Benny seemingly gives up on his battle with the device on the wall, and he curses under his breath, running a hand through his tousled blonde hair. “Yeah, it’s busted, but I think the problem’s with the furnace itself this time, not the thermostat. Landlord’s asleep, so we’re fucked until the morning, I guess.”
Far too cold and too damn tired to care about how bold your suggestion may sound, you step between the two of them, looping an arm in each of theirs. “Let’s go then.”
“It’s three in the morning. Where are we going, honey?” Benny asks, a note of amused sarcasm in his voice.
“My bed, obviously.”
Santi chokes, “What?”
“We’re cuddling for warmth. Unless you both want to freeze to death alone in your beds,” you respond primly.
“Wasn’t how I thought you’d ask me to get into bed with you, but I’ll take it,” Benny laughs, the honeyed tone of his deep voice doing far more to you than you should allow it to.
“Wait.”
You both glance at Santiago, and he continues, “Ben’s bed is the biggest out of all of ours. We’ll probably…fit better.”
Raising an eyebrow, you glance between the two of them. “Interesting that you know how big his bed is.”
Benny glances up at the ceiling, biting his lip. “Is it?”
Santiago coughs, shooting Benny a look. “Alright Sherlock Holmes, you can play detective later. Let’s get a move on, I’m losing feeling in my toes.”
You’ll mull over that later.
For now, all you can think about is the way it feels to find yourself snugly trapped between Santiago and Benny’s combined body heat, burrowed under the silky soft sheets in the latter’s bed.
The way something finally loosens in your chest, tugging free in a rockslide of emotions.
You’ve spent months dancing around it, this inevitability that’s tentatively hovered in the air between the three of you since you moved in. This quiet, unspoken thing that feels so much easier to look at head on now in this very moment, shrouded in the inky black darkness of Benny’s bedroom.
Benny knows what you want—he can feel it in the way your heart’s wildly beating its way out of your chest as he presses his thumb against your collarbone. Santi knows, too.
And yet, even as Benny’s nose brushes against yours, breath fanning across your lips and his hair tickling your forehead, he waits.
He waits until you’re ready, until the feather-light caress of Santiago’s fingers over your hip as he curls against you from behind leaves you shivering with anticipation. Until the barest touch of Benny’s ankle hooking over yours elicits a hitch in your breath.
Until you can’t fucking stand it any longer.
But when you do eventually lean forward, finally seeking out the real warmth you desire, Benny stops holding back.
And so does Santiago.
Benny kisses you hard, like he’s been waiting for this for days. Weeks. Months. Like he’s already memorized the curve of your lips long before being given this chance to finally taste them.
Meanwhile, Santiago’s mouth blazes a hot, exploratory trail from behind, calloused fingers tugging at the collar of your—his—sweatshirt, his teeth and tongue lavishing the delicate curve of your neck.
Benny’s lips make start to make their way across your jaw, trailing down the front of your throat, only to be replaced with Santiago’s. He pulls you down onto your back, tongue swiping across your bottom lip before licking his way into your mouth.
You arch your back at the feeling of Benny and Santiago’s fingers intertwining against your hipbone, their mouths straying, and you tug both of their faces back toward yours for heated kiss that quickly begins to skirt the edges of desperation. Curiosity still burning in your gut, you run a hand through Benny’s hair, tugging on it firmly to pull his lips from yours.
You glance from him to Santiago, whose teeth have begun to graze the sensitive spot just below your earlobe, and Benny grins. He leans over you, cupping the side of Santi’s face before capturing his lips in an eager, messy kiss, and the heat in your gut blazes white-hot.
On second thought, the furnace can stay broken.