Sam's Night (VI), Part 2

They said goodnight to Andy and Laura in the living room. The Master’s Suite was at the far end, all dark glass and low lighting; the Consort’s bedroom was closer, across from the door to the balcony. Sam stopped at the door and glanced back, as if making sure there were no witnesses, then pushed the door open with a foot, walked inside, and gently deposited Liesa on the bed.

Before she did anything else, she walked back to the door and shot the deadbolt home. Liesa’s laugh was immediate—a low, delighted little snort from somewhere behind her. She had apparently awakened.

“You think he’s going to sneak in?” Liesa said. She was leaning against the foot of the bed, one hand propping her, the other fidgeting at the hem of her shirt.

“Not him,” Sam said. “Or Laura, either. They're going to spend time caring for each other tonight, after everything. It’s about this being our time, and I don’t want to share it. If Arabella comes in here with a silver platter, I’ll—” She considered, then shrugged. “Probably eat whatever she brought, but only after making her feel deeply unwelcome.”

Liesa’s hair was down tonight—no artful pins, no band holding it away from her face. The effect was even wilder than usual, with a hint of static from the sea air. She was in dark leggings and a plain white sports bra, making the curves of her body seem exaggerated, the kind of thing that would draw a second look even from people who thought they’d seen every permutation of beauty. She didn’t try to pose, didn’t do anything extra, but Sam noticed: she never sat entirely still, her hips always found the best possible angle, and every time she crossed or uncrossed her legs, it happened in slow motion.

Sam crossed the room, her sneakers nearly silent on the rug. She stopped in front of Liesa, close enough that she could see the line of her collarbone. Liesa looked up, eyes hungry but expectant, her lips a little parted. There was a bead of sweat just below her jaw.

Sam didn’t waste time. She cupped Liesa’s face in both hands, steady and direct, and leaned in. The kiss was slow, long, and deliberate, exactly the way Sam liked it when she was the one starting things. There was no rush, no battle for dominance, just the gentle escalation of heat as Sam tasted the salt on Liesa’s upper lip and felt her smile against her mouth.

Liesa kissed back, but Sam kept control of the rhythm, only letting Liesa take over when she wanted her to. She could feel the tension in Liesa’s jaw, the way her hands came up but didn’t quite know where to land—one hovered at Sam’s hip, then dropped to her thigh, then back up, uncertain but **** to close the distance.

When they finally came up for air, Liesa grinned, a little bit sheepish, a lot hungry. “You always make it feel like I’ve never done this before,” she said, in a voice that was half dare and half surrender.

Sam ran her thumbs along Liesa’s cheekbones, then dropped her hands to Liesa’s shoulders and let them linger there. “You always make it feel like it’s the last time,” Sam replied. She nudged Liesa’s knees apart with her own, then let the weight of her body do the talking, pressing close until there was no space between them.

Liesa laughed again, that low, husky sound that Sam loved so much, and then grabbed at the hem of Sam’s zip-up jacket. “Can I?”

“Please,” Sam said, deadpan, but she leaned in to help, rolling her shoulders so the jacket slipped off easier. She felt the rush of cool air on her arms and watched Liesa’s eyes roam over her biceps, the old half-faded scar on her forearm, the spray of freckles that always seemed more pronounced in this light.

“Your turn,” Sam said, and reached up to the crown of Liesa’s head. She found the smallest knot in her hair and undid it with a flick of her fingers. The result was immediate: Liesa’s hair fell in a shimmering, reddish mass down her back, and Sam gathered it all in one hand and drew it forward over Liesa’s shoulder.

“You like it down,” Liesa said, voice a little bit teasing.

“Looks better on you than any clothes,” Sam said, letting her hands work through the length of it, untangling the knots and massaging the scalp. She could feel the shiver go through Liesa, all the way to the tips of her fingers.

For a while, they didn’t talk. They just stood—well, Liesa sat and Sam stood, close enough to share breath. The world outside the window was all ocean haze and resort lights, but in here it was just the two of them, bracketed by the warm, gentle scent of sweat and the thump of blood in their ears.

Sam bent down and pressed her lips to the base of Liesa’s neck, just below the ear. Liesa’s breath caught, and her hands went to Sam’s waist, pulling her in closer. The little tank top Liesa wore had shifted off one shoulder, exposing the soft slope of skin. Sam traced her lips along the line from jaw to collarbone, then down to the hollow just above the breast. Liesa’s skin was warm and tasted of sun and salt and something that was just Liesa.

Sam let her hands drift down, finding the hem of Liesa’s sports bra and working it up, slow and deliberate. Liesa lifted her arms without prompting, letting Sam peel the shirt away and leave her bare from the waist up. The effect was instant—Liesa’s breathing went rapid, her chest rising and falling fast enough to betray how badly she needed.

Sam kissed down, finding the upper swell of Liesa’s breasts, then traced the curve around with her mouth, never quite touching the nipple until Liesa’s hands pushed Sam’s face in the right direction. Only then did Sam let her tongue flick over it, savoring the involuntary gasp that escaped Liesa’s throat.

“Oh mijn God,” Liesa said, voice cracking a little. “You know I get crazy if you do that too long.”

Sam didn’t answer, but redoubled her efforts, switching sides, letting her hands roam up and down Liesa’s torso. She could feel the little bumps rising along Liesa’s skin, the way she shivered and tried to draw Sam closer, always closer. Every piece of Liesa she exposed seemed to charge the room with another layer of electricity. Sam wondered if this was what it felt like to touch a live wire, every cell in your body wanting more, even if it was going to kill you.

She dropped to her knees, never breaking eye contact, and slid her hands up along Liesa’s thighs. The leggings were soft, and easy to pull off; beneath them, Liesa wore nothing at all. The sight made Sam inhale, just once, through her teeth. Liesa’s skin was flushed, all the way down to her toes.

Sam looked up, waiting for permission.

Liesa’s fingers went to the back of Sam’s head, threading through the short, curly hair at her nape. “If you don’t,” she said, breathless, the heat mounting, “I will literally **** you right now.”

Sam grinned. “Then I’d better.” She hooked Liesa’s knees over her shoulders, braced herself, and got to work.

The effect was immediate. Liesa’s whole body arched, her back coming off the edge of the bed, her fingers tightening in Sam’s hair. She made no attempt at quiet—her moans were full-throated, rich and melodic, as if she’d been waiting all day for this exact moment. Every time Sam’s tongue found the right spot, Liesa’s legs would clench around her head, not letting her back up even if she wanted to. Sam was perfectly happy to stay there, tasting, teasing, building the pressure until she could feel every shiver echoing up through Liesa’s thighs.

“Sam,” Liesa said, and her voice had the edge of a command in it now. “Please, I—” She didn’t finish the thought, but Sam knew exactly what she meant.

Sam intensified, shifting her angle, using both hands now to hold Liesa open, to keep her from bucking away as the sensation grew too much. Liesa’s cries got higher, sharper, until her whole body went rigid, toes pointed, head thrown back. The orgasm came in a rush—no preamble, just an explosion of sensation that left Liesa shaking and nearly breathless.

But Sam didn’t let up. She backed off for a second, just long enough to let Liesa catch a single breath, then went back in, this time slower, more focused, drawing it out. The second wave hit harder than the first, and this time, Liesa bit down on her own wrist to keep from shouting loud enough to alert the next suite over.

When Sam finally surfaced, she found Liesa sprawled across the bed, hair a tangle, face flushed to the hairline. She crawled up, bracing herself on her hands, and looked down at her, grinning.

Liesa looked up, dazed. “You’re not even going to give me time to recover?” she said, a little breathless.

Sam leaned in and kissed her, slow and soft. “I can wait if you want,” she murmured.

Liesa grinned, a little wild. “I don’t want you to wait. Not at all.”

With one arm, Liesa pulled Sam down and rolled her onto her back, straddling her. She was all heat and hunger now, eyes glassy, lips parted. Sam let Liesa’s hands strip away her shirt, then watched as Liesa drank in the sight, as if trying to memorize every inch of her.

Liesa’s mouth found Sam’s neck, then her collarbone, then lower. She took her time, teasing, kissing, biting just enough to leave a mark. When she got to Sam’s breasts, she lingered, mouth and hands working in tandem, building the pressure slowly. Sam let her head fall back, hands at her sides, not bothering to hide how much she loved it.

“You know,” Liesa said, voice rough now, “I am pretty sure I love you more than anything in the world when you let me do this.”

Sam arched up to meet her, grinning. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Liesa laughed, then went lower, tracing a path down Sam’s stomach. When she reached the waistband of Sam’s jeans, she hesitated—only for a second—then popped the button, working them down with both hands. Sam helped, hips lifting to make it easy, and soon she was as bare as Liesa had been.

Liesa knelt between Sam’s legs and, for a moment, just looked. There was something reverent in her gaze, something that made Sam want to squirm but also hold perfectly still. When Liesa finally touched her, it was with both hands, slow and deliberate, starting at the thighs and moving in. The first contact was gentle, a teasing brush that made Sam’s whole body tense.

She let herself go with it, let Liesa take her time, let the sensation build. When Liesa’s mouth found her, it was like everything else in the room disappeared—the sound of her own heartbeat was so loud she almost couldn’t hear Liesa’s voice, but when she did, it was muffled and worshipful.

“You’re perfect,” Liesa said. “I don’t care if that sounds like a cliché. You’re perfect.”

Sam almost replied, but it turned into a gasp as Liesa’s tongue found the right spot and circled, once, twice, before focusing in. The pressure was just right, and Liesa pinned her down, but Sam had to **** herself to yield, not to buck up and take control. Her strength would have thrown Liesa away like a ragdoll. Instead, she let Liesa have it—let her finish what she’d started—and soon enough, Sam was right at the edge, the whole world narrowing to the space between them.

IVA: Edged by the Lovey Contestant! +1 VP
First! x2

When she came, it was sharp and sudden, a tightening that started in her chest and radiated out. Liesa didn’t stop, didn’t even slow, just rode the wave until Sam was wrung out and shaking.

They lay like that for a few minutes, both spent, the only sound in the room their overlapping breaths. Liesa curled up beside her, head tucked under Sam’s chin, hair spilling everywhere.

After a minute, Sam sat up and scanned the room for something—anything—for Liesa to put on. She found the sports bra discarded on the far side of the bed, grabbed it, and tossed it to Liesa.

“Put that on,” she said, a little gruff, but the affection was obvious. “I don’t want you getting cold.”

Liesa grinned, slipped the shirt over her head, then tucked back under the covers with Sam. “You’re such a mom,” she teased.

Sam rolled her eyes, but she pulled Liesa in close, arms wrapping around her waist. “You’ll be saying that for real soon enough,” she said.

They stayed that way for a long time, Sam and Liesa—legs knotted, hair everywhere, Liesa’s head cradled in the crook of Sam’s shoulder. Outside, the ocean hummed and the breeze pressed at the window with gentle, steady hands. Neither of them spoke, not for a while. When the room cooled off and Liesa started to shiver, Sam pulled the covers up over them and tucked Liesa in, like she was afraid she might drift away otherwise.

Eventually, Liesa spoke, voice muffled against Sam’s skin. “Do you want to hear what we found?” she said.

Sam didn’t answer at first. She was tracing little circles on Liesa’s bicep, her mind half gone and half focused. But she knew exactly what Liesa was talking about. “Tell me,” she said, softer than usual.

Liesa pressed her face a little closer, as if that would make it easier. “The Law is a life for a life. It cannot be anyone. The sacrifice has to be willing. Claire and Norah are certain. Even Ereshkigal is bound to this. She can only collect if the person volunteers. Otherwise, nothing changes, except—” She shrugged, as if the word “****” wasn’t even worth saying. “Except for Laura.”

Sam let that work its way in. The air in the room felt a little heavier, like something invisible was perched on her chest. “So someone has to step up. Someone who means it.” She didn’t phrase it as a question.

“Yes,” Liesa said. “And it cannot be just anyone. The person must be joined to Laura by blood or by marriage.” Liesa’s voice was flat, without even a waver of hope.

Sam chewed on the inside of her cheek, thinking. “Andy, then.”

Liesa shook her head. “Andy, Riley, Myra. Myra’s mother. Laura’s mother. They are all connected by blood. And also, anyone who marries Andy.”

“And you all spent the afternoon looking for a loophole,” Sam said. It wasn’t judgment, just a statement.

“Yes. We all want the loophole. But so far, it does not exist.” Liesa let out a breath, and it shook against Sam’s chest.

Sam held her tighter. “Would I count?” she asked. “If it came to it?”

Liesa shook her head. “No. It must be blood or marriage, and only on the line to Laura. Not even all the Hosts can cheat it. You and I—we are not linked in the way the Law understands.”

Sam’s jaw flexed, just once, and then she was still. For a long time, she said nothing. Liesa reached up and touched Sam’s face, gentle and careful. “I am sorry,” she said. “I do not want it to be you. I do not want it to be anyone, but especially not you.”

Sam gave a tiny, sardonic laugh. “Kind of a flaw in the system, isn’t it? All this cosmic law, and nobody bothered to write in a family exception for the people who actually care.”

Liesa smiled, but it was a sad thing, nothing like the confident, hungry Liesa from before. “It is not perfect,” she agreed.

They listened to the wind for a while. Finally, Sam said, “Then why does Claire keep disappearing? If you already know what the Law wants, what else is there to find?”

Liesa tensed, just a little. She considered, then answered: “She has a lot of threads she’s following. And there is a place she keeps going back to. A gate—the first one, she calls it. She thinks it is where the Law was first written. Maybe older than the Hosts. Maybe older than everything.” She paused. “She thinks Andy is connected to it somehow. That if there is a loophole anywhere, it is there.”

Sam was quiet for a moment. “Does Andy know about it?”

“Yes,” Liesa said. “Arabella told him.”

Sam blinked, trying to put the pieces together. “So the Host thing isn’t just about running a reality show.”

Liesa shook her head. “No. There is more, but none of us can see the whole shape.”

Sam mulled that over, turning it around in her head like a piece of driftwood that might hide something underneath. “If they can’t break it before the wedding, then what?”

Liesa was silent. “If it gets to that point,” Sam said, “I’m going to do something. I’m not just going to sit around and let it happen.”

Liesa went very still. Then, slowly, she pushed herself up onto one elbow and looked at Sam—really looked at her, the way she did when she was trying to read something that wasn’t written down anywhere. Her eyes moved over Sam’s face, and whatever she found there made her jaw tighten. She reached out and pressed her palm flat against Sam’s sternum, as if she could hold her in place by sheer **** of will.

“Sam.” Her voice was low and careful, the way you’d speak to someone standing too close to a ledge. “Listen to me. You are going to be a mother.” She paused, letting that land. “You do not get to be the hero. Not for this. Not for me. Not for Andy. Not for Laura.” Her fingers curled slightly against Sam’s chest. “The baby needs you.” A beat. “I need you.” The last words came out barely above a breath, and she dropped her gaze, like she hadn’t meant to say them quite that plainly.

Sam didn’t argue. She didn’t say yes or no or promise anything. She just held Liesa a little closer.

The silence that followed was deep enough that Sam almost fell asleep. She’d been up for twenty hours, not counting the emotional overdrive of the last six, and the lull of Liesa’s steady breathing, warm and insistent, was hypnotic. When she started to drift, it was with her cheek pressed against the top of Liesa’s head and her arm slung over the curve of Liesa’s waist.

It was Liesa who broke the stillness. “I keep thinking about the baby,” she said, voice barely above a murmur. “Not just that I am going to be a mother. But what she will grow up knowing. What she will think is normal.”

Sam opened her eyes. Outside, something moved in the palm trees, a brief rustling, and then nothing. “What do you mean?” she said.

Liesa shifted, pressing a little closer. “I mean—all of this. Andy, Laura, the island, all of us. She will grow up thinking this is just how families are.” A small pause. “I wonder what that does to a person.”

Sam thought about it. “Probably makes her pretty hard to surprise,” she said.

Sam stroked her hair, thinking. “She’ll have a village. Literally. Half the island is going to be baby cousins by the time she’s old enough to crawl.”

Liesa grinned, eyes sparkling just a little. “Erin’s twins will come first. Then Then Claire’s girl. Then Chloe’s son, and us.”

Sam snorted. “Two for Erin. That’s a lot.”

“She will be a good mother,” Liesa said, with a certainty Sam couldn’t even pretend to match.

“She will be feral,” Sam said, “but she’ll keep the rest of them from eating paste or sticking forks in the outlets.”

Liesa gave her a look. “You think our child will eat paste?”

Sam nodded. “One hundred percent. And if she doesn’t, she’ll be the one who supplies it to the others.” She paused. “You ever think about what they’ll call each other? Like, will it be ‘cousin’ or will they make up some weird hybrid family title?”

Liesa rolled her eyes, but Sam could tell she liked the question. “Cousin,” she said. “But they will make it sound like a title. Like a secret club.”

Sam grinned, imagining a tiny army of girls (and at least two boys, if Chloe was right) all growing up wild together, with Liesa’s baby at the center of it. “They’ll have each other,” she said. “No matter what. Even if the rest of it goes to hell, they’ll always have that.”

For a long minute, neither spoke. The sky outside was starting to shade toward silver.

Then Sam said, “I’ve been thinking about names.”

She could feel Liesa tense a little, as if this was suddenly the most important part of the whole conversation. “Tell me,” Liesa said.

“First choice, no question,” Sam said. “Juno.”

Liesa processed this. “Like the goddess?”

“Yeah, but also the spacecraft. Or the movie, if you want.”

Liesa mulled it, then shook her head. “Too sharp,” she said. “Our baby is going to be more round, more sweet.”

Sam grinned. “How do you know that?”

“I am Belgian. We are experts in round and sweet.”

Sam made a face. “Fine. What’s your pitch?”

Liesa gave it some thought. “I like Stella. It means star. I want her to be a star.”

Sam didn’t hate it, but she wasn’t going to give up so easy. “If you want a star, go big. Polaris. She’ll be the north star of the entire next generation.”

“Too cold,” Liesa said, “and too hard to pronounce for a toddler.”

They went back and forth like this for a while—Sam proposing sharp, bright, powerful names; Liesa countering with rounder, softer, more melodic ones. By the third round, Sam was digging in just to see if she could get a rise out of her: “Athena.” “Cobra.” “Zero.”

Liesa groaned. “She is not a race car. She is a baby.”

Sam only smiled, lazy and satisfied. “We’ll take a vote when she’s born. Or better yet, let the other babies name her.”

That got a real laugh out of Liesa, which made Sam feel like she’d won something important.

Then, out of nowhere, Liesa said, “Do you think we should have a boy name? Just in case?”

Sam didn’t miss a beat. “You want to hedge your bets, be my guest. But I’m pretty sure biology is on my side, here.” She pointed at Liesa’s belly, as if to say, check the hardware.

Liesa was silent for a second, then burst out laughing. She rolled over, pinning Sam under her with one arm, then pressed her face into Sam’s shoulder. “You are impossible,” she said, but there was so much affection in her voice that Sam could feel it in her bones.

“Not impossible,” Sam said, stroking the back of Liesa’s neck. “Just highly improbable.”

They lay like that as the room brightened, trading the last bits of sleep for the comfort of each other.

After the laughter faded, Liesa grew quiet. She kept her head nestled against Sam’s chest, breathing in time, eyes closed. Sam thought maybe she’d gone to sleep. Then, with no warning, Liesa pushed herself upright, rolled her weight onto Sam, and—so fast it was almost comic—pulled the shirt off over her head.

Her face turned instantly pink, not shy but so bright and sudden that Sam couldn’t help but laugh. “You know you don’t have to ask, right?” Sam said, voice a little gruff from the sudden jostle.

Liesa didn’t answer. She straddled Sam’s hips, cupped her face in both hands, and kissed her—hard, then slow, then harder again, as if trying to memorize the shape of her mouth in the darkness. When they finally broke apart, Sam was out of breath and Liesa was grinning, all mischief.

Liesa’s fingers curled beneath Sam’s jaw, tilting her head back until her throat was laid bare. She pressed her mouth to that pale, **** skin, lips moving slow and slick, tasting salt and want. When she found the hollow beneath Sam’s ear, she bit down just enough to draw blood-hued color to the surface. Sam’s breath hitched; her hands clamped around Liesa’s waist as if afraid to let go, heart pounding like a war drum.

Instead of pulling away, Liesa pressed her mouth to Sam’s throat again, then glided up to her collarbone, lips and tongue mapping every ridge in a relentless, ravenous pattern. Sam’s skin tingled under each soft nip, each teasing graze of teeth, until her whole frame trembled. Liesa’s hair fell over them both, a dark curtain that trapped their heat, made the bed feel like an island in a raging sea. She moved lower, mouth exploring the swell of Sam’s breast, her tongue dancing over the hard pearl of her nipple. She sucked and flicked with such fierce delight that Sam’s hips jerked skyward in one powerful buck—and Liesa laughed, breathless and wild, and sank back in for more.

Sam reached for her, the need raw, but Liesa caught her wrists in one hand and pinned them to the mattress with iron certainty. She leaned down, mouth never pausing, and kissed a path of fire across Sam’s skin. Sam could have tossed her off in an instant, but she didn’t want to—she wanted every inch of this. Liesa paused at Sam’s navel, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses, then used her knees to pry Sam’s thighs wide.

Her first brush of tongue was gentle, almost reverent, as if she were tracing a secret scripture. Then she deepened her devotion: lips, tongue, breath—all instruments in a symphony composed of Sam’s gasps, curses, and shudders. Sam felt her body coil tighter and tighter, fighting to hold back the tidal wave, but Liesa refused mercy. Each time Sam’s breathing stuttered, Liesa increased the tempo, fingers digging into Sam’s hips, mouth never once lifting.

Sam shattered. A single, wordless cry tore from her chest as her muscles clamped and convulsed, whole body rigid and racked with pleasure. Liesa held her through every tremor, every gasp, until the quake subsided into soft shivers. Then she crawled back up, slick hair clinging to her cheeks, and pressed a gentle kiss to Sam’s temple—soft as a promise.

Sam lay there, spent and drifting, unable to do more than feel her heartbeat settle against the mattress. Liesa draped herself over Sam’s chest, folding her body into Sam’s curves as if afraid they might drift apart in the dark. Sam stared at the ceiling, watching shadows quake in the low light.

When her senses returned, she realized Liesa’s eyes were wide open, glassy with need. Without a word, Liesa lifted Sam’s hand, guided it down until her fingers brushed against Liesa’s wetness. She didn’t plead or demand—she simply waited, every nerve ending alive with invitation.

Sam obeyed. She cupped Liesa’s slick folds, tracing the slickness with a slow precision that built like hot coals. Liesa’s breath hitched, her hips lifting into Sam’s hand in a steady, hungry rhythm. Liesa’s grip tightened on Sam’s shoulders; her head hung forward, hair tumbling around her like a storm. She moved faster, pressing herself down onto Sam’s fingers, eyes locked with Sam’s in a silent vow.

When Liesa spilled over the edge, it started as a low whimper, then grew into a long, raw moan muffled against Sam’s chest. Her body convulsed, shuddering against Sam’s palm, and Sam held her close, unwilling to let her fall. At last, Liesa collapsed onto Sam, limp and trembling, pulse racing beneath Sam’s hand.

But Sam wasn’t done. She rolled them both, shifting Liesa onto her back with a slow, deliberate grace. Liesa’s breath hitched as Sam’s mouth found her again, tongue tracing the slick heat between her thighs with a hunger that bordered on worship. Liesa gasped, fingers tangling in Sam’s hair, hips lifting to meet her. Then, in one fluid motion, Sam swung her leg over Liesa’s face, straddling her in a sixty-nine that left no room for hesitation. Liesa didn’t need to be told what to do—her mouth was already on Sam, lips and tongue working in perfect, **** rhythm.

Sam’s world narrowed to the wet heat of Liesa’s mouth, the taste of her, the way her thighs trembled against Sam’s ears. She could feel Liesa’s breath hitch as Sam’s tongue circled her clit, slow and teasing, then faster, harder, until Liesa’s hips bucked against her. The sounds they made were muffled, swallowed by each other’s bodies—gasps, moans, the slick, wet noises of mouths and tongues working in tandem. Sam’s fingers dug into Liesa’s hips, pulling her closer, deeper, as if she could merge them into one.

Liesa’s thighs clamped around Sam’s head, her body tensing like a bowstring. Sam could feel it—the way Liesa’s breath stuttered, the way her muscles coiled tight, the way her tongue faltered against Sam’s clit for just a second before redoubling its efforts. Sam matched her, sucking and flicking with a relentless precision, until Liesa’s back arched off the bed, a broken cry tearing from her throat as she came again, harder this time, her body shaking beneath Sam’s mouth.

The sensation of Liesa’s release sent Sam over the edge. Her own climax crashed through her, white-hot and consuming, her body shuddering as she ground against Liesa’s mouth, riding out the waves of pleasure. They clung to each other in the aftermath, limbs tangled, breaths ragged, hearts pounding in sync. For a long moment, neither of them moved, too spent to do anything but lie there, drowning in the heat they’d made together.

IVA: 69’d the Lovey Contestant! +3 VP
First! x2
IVA: 5-Time Combo! +3 VP
First! x2

Sam found the shirt, bunched at the edge of the pillow, and draped it over Liesa’s shoulders. Liesa pulled it on with one hand and tucked herself in close, face pressed to Sam’s skin.

They stayed like that for a long time, neither of them willing to move or speak. The only sounds were the surf outside and their slow, matched breathing.

Finally, Liesa spoke, barely a whisper. “I know she will have family. I know she will have people. But I am so glad she will have you.” The words were so direct that Sam’s breath caught.

For once, Sam didn’t have a comeback. She held Liesa tighter, found the words only after a minute of thinking. “I’ve been planning for every possible disaster since Laura returned,” she said, her voice low and serious. “But this is family is the one thing I don’t want to lose. Not you. Not her. Not any of it.”

Liesa pressed her face harder against Sam’s shoulder, like she could hide inside her if she tried hard enough. The sun started to edge up outside, lightening the sky from black to deep indigo. Sam watched it brighten, minute by minute, holding Liesa in her arms and letting the next day wait, just for a little while longer.