novelraw Chapter 198: Counting Down
Chapter 198: Counting Down
It had been weeks since Bharath had stepped into their dorm with anything more than a quick hello.
The lights were dim, the beanbags slumped in their usual corners, and the air smelled like popcorn and laundry detergent. Jorge pulled out the controllers, Tyrel set up the screen, and Ravi queued up a playlist full of ‘90s hip-hop and anime intros.
For a few glorious hours, it was just them.
They played until their thumbs ached, shouted until the RA banged on their door with a warning, and laughed so hard Ravi nearly choked on orange soda.
Bharath took a moment during a loading screen, glancing at the chaos around him. He loved his girls. He adored them. But this - this loud, ridiculous, snack-fueled testosterone chamber - was home too.
“You missed this, didn’t you?” Tyrel asked without looking away from the screen.
“Yeah,” Bharath admitted. “I really did.”
Jorge tossed him a fresh controller. “Then don’t be a stranger, man. Just ‘cause you’re in a harem doesn’t mean you can’t be in the bros club too.”
Bharath laughed. “I’ll bring snacks next time.”
Ravi grinned. “Bring Marisol’s brownies and all is forgiven.”
Bharath grinned as he queued up for the next match.
Balance, he thought. That’s what this was.
He had his women.
He had his brothers.
And tonight, he was exactly where he needed to be.
It had started with an innocent joke.
“You three are practically puppies,” Maria had said earlier that night, standing in the hallway with her arms crossed and an amused smirk on her face. “You eat together. You sew together. Now you sleep together too?”
Marisol had answered with a shrug and an impish grin. “You raised affectionate girls.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep in Mia’s room - or the guest room downstairs Sarah?”
Sarah, curled up with a cup of warm water and lemon, had simply added, “It’s warmer this way. Don’t worry señora. We will be fine.”
Maria had shaken her head and muttered something about youth and heat regulation, but she didn’t argue. She just made sure they had extra blankets and muttered, “Sleep quietly, por favor,” before retreating to her bedroom.
And now here they were, lights out, the quiet hum of the ceiling fan spinning above them, and a nest of pillows and blankets pulled into the center of Marisol’s old room like some sacred temple of femininity.
Mia lay in the middle, tucked under the arm of her sister on one side and Sarah on the other.
They were warm and soft and smelled like peppermint lotion and a little bit of the lavender oil Maria always kept in her drawers.
Marisol’s finger
s idly played with Mia’s hair. “This is nice.”
Sarah’s voice came from the other side, sleep-laced and low. “Too bad we’re missing our heat lamp.”
“Our heat lamp?” Mia asked, smiling.
“Bharath,” they both said at the same time.
Mia laughed softly, turning her face into the pillow. “You call him that?”
“He radiates,” Sarah said dreamily. “Especially in sleep.”
“And wanders,” Marisol added. “His hands, I mean.”
“Oh my God,” Mia whispered, eyes going wide.
Marisol giggled. “He doesn’t even realize it. One minute, he’s curled up all sweet, and the next he’s gripping my thigh like a man lost in the desert.”
“And when he finds your boobs in his sleep?” Sarah added.
Mia blinked. “Wait, seriously?”
“He cups,” Marisol said, sounding half-impressed, half-sighing. “Like he’s weighing fruit at the market.”
Sarah snorted. “Then there’s the thing he does where he mumbles in his sleep and tightens his grip. One time I woke up with his hand halfway up my shirt and him whispering ‘I missed this.’”
Mia felt her thighs press together involuntarily. “Stop.”
They didn’t.
“He’s possessive when he sleeps,” Marisol said softly now, brushing Mia’s shoulder with her lips. “Like he’s dreaming of us, not just lying next to us.”
“Sometimes I just wait
to see where his hands will end up,” Sarah murmured.Mia let out a shaky breath.
The room was dark, but she could feel both girls shifting closer, their hands now trailing lightly over her stomach, her hips.
“We imagine you in the middle sometimes,” Sarah whispered.
Mia swallowed. “Do you?”
“We’re greedy,” Marisol said. “We want you there. Tangled with us. Letting him explore all three of us. Not just in dreams.”
Mia’s pulse thundered.
“And we talk about what we’ll do,” Sarah added. “What you can do to him. To us. How you’ll taste.”
“Oh my God,” Mia whispered again, her breath catching.
“We’ll train you,” Marisol said, lips brushing the shell of Mia’s ear. “To please him. To please us.”
Mia gasped - not loud, but deep.
Sarah’s hand rested gently over her thigh now. “Does that turn you on?”
“Of course it does,” Mia whispered, her voice trembling. “I’ve been thinking about it since that first kiss.”
“Just eleven more days,” Marisol murmured, pulling her even closer.
Sarah giggled into her neck. “We’ll mark every one.”
Mia could barely think, barely breathe, her body humming with need and the ache of anticipation.
They said nothing more for a while. Just soft kisses to her cheek, to her hair, to her neck. Just slow caresses that didn’t cross lines, but danced so close they blurred.
And when they finally drifted off - tangled, warm, breath steady - Mia lay awake a little longer.
Counting the days.
Eleven.