Simon gathers his thoughts

Simon lay back on the bed, the sheets tangled and damp beneath him, as Emily, Ashlynn, and Lauren fawned over his body with lingering touches and soft murmurs. Their hands roamed freely, rubbing against him in slow, affectionate strokes—Emily's fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest, Ashlynn pressing her curves against his side with a contented sigh, Lauren's lips brushing feather-light kisses along his shoulder and arm. Each woman vied quietly for his attention, their expressions soft with the devotion he had commanded into existence, peppering his skin with kisses that carried whispers of adoration.

The routine stretched on for a while, a haze of warmth and entangled limbs, until exhaustion finally claimed them. One by one, their movements slowed, breaths deepening into the steady rhythm of sleep. Simon found himself entwined between the three women, their bodies draped over him like a living blanket—peaceful, spent, and utterly his.

But unlike them, worn out from the intensity of the foursome, Simon felt no pull toward rest. His earlier words had stripped away the fatigue from his long shift, leaving him alert and energized, his mind sharp as the morning light filtered through the curtains. He extricated himself carefully, sliding out from under their limbs without disturbing their slumber, and stood at the foot of the bed.

He looked down at them, taking in the scene with the same detached assessment he brought to chaotic shifts at work. Emily curled on her side, dark hair splayed across the pillow, her familiar face relaxed in a way it rarely was around him lately. Ashlynn sprawled with one arm flung out, her olive skin flushed, the teal dress discarded somewhere on the floor leaving her hourglass figure bare and inviting even in repose. Lauren lay on her back, auburn waves framing her heart-shaped features, her long legs tangled in the sheets, fair skin marked faintly from their earlier enthusiasm.

It was strange to think of them as his—like possessions, claimed by a few spoken words. But that was exactly what he had made them: attracted solely to him, to Simon Gatting, body and soul. They had given themselves over not out of choice, but because he had rewritten the rules. Emily was still his girlfriend, officially, but the other two? Strangers turned lovers in an instant, bound by his decree.

His thoughts drifted back to the letter, creased and forgotten on the hallway floor. It had outlined the basics: his power affected anyone eighteen or older, as long as they could hear him. Whatever he said became true, bending reality itself to fit—people, circumstances, everything shifting without protest. And because he was always right, agreement followed naturally, no questions asked.

The letter had mentioned altering reality and people, but it left gaps. Could it affect other things? Objects? The world at large? Limits he hadn't tested yet, shortcuts he wasn't sure he wanted to chase. Seventeen years in security had taught him that unchecked power usually came with strings attached, hidden until they tripped you up.

Simon swung his legs over the edge of the bed and pushed himself upright, muscles protesting from the recent tangle of bodies. A brisk shower blasted the lingering haze from his mind, cold water needling his skin until he felt sharp and alive again. The steady spray drowned out the muffled world—until a sharp, impatient knock rattled the door, the sound echoing through the small flat and snapping him back to reality.

Still feeling the lingering cold from his shower, Simon slipped into a bathrobe, pulled on a pair of trunks and boxers, then made his way to the door in response to the impatient knock that had rattled through the flat.