24. Nash

24

NASH

F lora’s movements are beautiful as she practices her routine on the silks. Her form has improved dramatically over the past weeks, and I can’t help but feel proud of how far she’s come. The winter air in the tent is crisp, but we’ve both worked up enough of a sweat that it doesn’t matter.

“Good, now remember to keep that core tight through the transition,” I call up to her. “You’re dropping your left hip slightly.”

Flora adjusts immediately, demonstrating the perfect body control that first caught our attention. The red silk wraps around her as she executes a perfect spiral descent.

“How’s Colt doing?” she asks, dabbing her face with a towel.

“Stubborn as ever.” I shake my head. “But he finally went to the physio. Should help with that shoulder before the Christmas show.”

I spot Flora as she climbs back up the silk, her movements precise and controlled. We’ve been performing nightly shows, and while Colt won’t admit it, I can see the strain in his shoulder getting worse. The Christmas spectacular is too important to risk injury.

“Let’s work on your release timing,” I suggest, moving to adjust the safety harness. “Remember, this is all about trust. Feel the rhythm in your body.”

Flora nods, her face set in concentration. Her rare combination of strength and grace makes aerial work look effortless.

“We’ll do three runs, then break for lunch,” I tell her, checking her harness one final time. “Colt should be back by then, and we can work on the synchronized elements of your solo for?—”

The tent door flaps open, and Colt strides in, his dark mood evident in the set of his jaw. I know that look. The appointment didn’t go well.

“She wants me to sit out for two weeks,” he growls, throwing his jacket onto a nearby chair. “Two fucking weeks.”

Flora glances between us, concern etching her features.

“What exactly did she say?” I ask.

“Small tear in my rotator cuff. Nothing major, but—” Colt runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “They’re worried about permanent damage if I don’t let it heal.”

Flora approaches him, her small hand resting on his uninjured shoulder. The touch drains some tension from his frame. It’s fascinating how she knows exactly what he needs without words.

I study Colt’s tense posture, calculating the implications. Two weeks of recovery means he’ll miss our season’s biggest show. The Christmas spectacular pulls in the most revenue, and our aerial act is one of the main attractions.

“We can adapt,” I say, keeping my voice steady despite the concern churning in my gut. “Flora’s ready to stand in. We’ll modify the routine.”

Colt’s jaw clenches. “Like hell. I’m not sitting out Christmas.”

“Don’t be stupid,” I snap, harsher than intended. “You think I want to watch you permanently damage yourself?”

Flora’s hand tightens on his shoulder, and I see him flinch slightly. That small reaction tells me everything I need to know about his pain level. He’s been hiding it well, but this isn’t something we can power through.

“The physio said two weeks for a reason,” I continue, softening my tone. “We need you at full strength, not pushing through an injury that could end your career.”

I watch as Flora moves to stand between us, her presence a calming force. Over these past weeks, she’s learned our rhythms well and knows when to step in.

“What if we modified the routine?” she suggests. “Something that showcases your strength without straining the shoulder?”

I shake my head. “Too risky. One wrong move...” I let the sentence hang, remembering too many close calls in this business. “The Christmas show isn’t worth your long-term health.”

The truth weighs on us. Two weeks means restructuring everything we’ve practiced, letting Flora take center stage, and trusting that our bond is strong enough to weather this setback.

Colt’s resistance is visible in every line of his body. When his eyes meet mine, I read his anger. But beneath that, there’s understanding. He knows I’m right.

I study Colt’s tense posture and know exactly what he needs, even if he’s too stubborn to admit it. “Strip down and let us help you relax. Flora and I can work out some of those knots.”

“For fuck’s sake, Nash. I don’t need—” Colt starts to protest, but Flora cuts him off.

“Actually, that’s a great idea.” She’s already gathering towels from our training supplies. “You’re wound tighter than the rigging ropes.”

“I’m fine,” Colt insists.

“Shirt off, face down on the mat,” I order. “Flora, grab that muscle balm from my bag.”

Colt glares at me, but I hold his gaze steadily. We’ve been partners long enough that he knows when I won’t back down.

“This is ridiculous,” he mutters, but his fingers move to the hem of his shirt.

Flora spreads a clean towel over the practice mat as Colt reluctantly removes his shirt. There’s some bruising around his shoulder that wasn’t there this morning, mottled purple spreading across his skin.

“Take off the rest of your clothes and lie down,” Flora says softly, patting the mat. “Let us take care of you for once.”

Colt’s resistance crumbles at her gentle tone. He settles onto the mat resignedly, turning his head to the side. “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” I reply dryly, kneeling beside him. “Flora, you take his legs and ass. I’ll work on this stubborn shoulder of his.”

I kneel beside Colt, my hands warm from the friction of the training Flora and I did. It’s been a while since I last massaged him, and I feel him tense beneath my touch—not from discomfort but from the awareness of my proximity.

I start with broad strokes along his shoulders, working the muscle balm into his skin. Despite his protests, his body responds to our touch, and I watch the tension melt from his frame. His breath evens out, and I can feel the knots in his shoulders loosen under my thumbs.

Beside me, Flora works with equal focus on his legs, her hands sure and gentle.

Colt shifts, his body twitching unexpectedly as Flora’s hands glide over a particularly sensitive spot. A soft moan escapes him, and I know we’ve entered dangerous territory.

“Roll over,” Flora instructs, her voice throaty. “Let’s work on your front now.”

Reluctantly, Colt does as she bids, his dick hard and glistening with precum. I catch my breath at the sight, remembering the first time I’d seen him like this.

As Flora and I resume our massage, her hands drift lower, lingering on the crease of his hips, and I see his cock twitch in response.

“Fuck, Flora,” he mutters, his voice strained. “You’re killing me here.”

Flora’s hand drifts lower still, and she wraps her fingers around his length, pumping. I watch as she explores, her thumb brushing over the piercing, and his hips buck involuntarily.

“Jesus, that feels good,” he pants, his eyes squeezed shut. “But it’s not—ah, fuck—it’s not gonna help my shoulder any.”

I chuckle, even as my body reacts to seeing them.

Flora’s thumb circles around the piercing, and Colt’s breath catches. “That feels so damn good, baby.”

I lean in, my lips close to his ear, and whisper, “Then why don’t you let us take care of that for you?”

As I speak, I glance at Flora, my eyes dark with suggestion. She meets my gaze, her eyes heated with desire, and I know we’re on the same page.

Colt’s chest heaves as he struggles for breath, his eyes wild. “You sure about this?”

I smile, my lips brushing his ear. “We can take care of this tension for you. Let us finish what we started.”

His lips part, and he nods silently, his eyes fixed on Flora’s hand moving slowly up and down his length.

I lean in, inhaling the scent of him—musk and desire—as my lips brush his earlobe. “So beautiful.”

Colt’s breath catches, his eyes flicking between us as if he can’t decide who to focus on. His chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, his eyes growing darker with each passing second.

“Please,” he whispers.

I smile, my lips curving against his skin, and then I pull back to watch as Flora kneels before him, her hands never stilling their exploration.

Her touch is feather-light as she explores his beautiful cock. She teases him with soft caresses, her thumb brushing over the piercing.

Colt’s eyes roll back as he succumbs to the sensations. “Flora, fuck, yes...”

Her lips part, taking him into her mouth, and she begins a slow, torturous dance of tongue and lips. I watch, transfixed, as she takes him deep, her throat muscles contracting rhythmically.

My own cock strains against my pants, but I ignore it, my focus wholly on the beautiful picture they make—Flora on her knees, sucking Colt with expert precision. Colt throws his head back, his entire body bowing to her will.

She pulls back, her lips slick, and I kneel beside her, capturing her mouth in a hungry kiss. My tongue tangles with her, tasting the remnants of his precum.

I descend, capturing his length in my mouth, tasting the saltiness of him as I swirl my tongue around the head. I take my time, savoring the sounds he makes.

Beneath me, his hips buck, seeking more friction, and I accommodate, stroking him with my hand as my mouth bobs in tandem. His hands twist in my hair, guiding me, and I let him take control, surrendering.

Normally, I’m always in control, but during sex with these two, I love how good it feels to let go.

Flora joins me, her lips teasing and nipping at his sensitive skin, and he cries out. Her hands grip the base of his shaft, and I take him deeper until my lips touch her fingers.

We establish a rhythm, working in sync. Her mouth and hands never stray far, always exploring and giving him something to feel and focus on.

Colt’s breath quickens, his hips stuttering as he bucks into my mouth, and I know he’s close. I pull back, stroking him firmly now, watching as his eyes squeeze shut and his teeth grit.

I lean in to steal another kiss from Flora, our tongues tangling desperately.

“I’m close,” he groans, his voice breaking. “So damn close.”

We waste no time, both of us knowing what he craves. Flora moves to kneel before him, her eyes dark with desire, and takes him back into her mouth. I move to his side, stroking his chest and his nipples, and then lower, tracing patterns on his skin with my fingers.

He’s so close now; I want to push him over the edge. I dip my fingers lower, tracing the muscle of his hip, the V-line leading to his groin, and watch his body tense in anticipation.

His entire body goes rigid, his eyes clenching shut, his teeth biting his lower lip. My eyes are drawn to where he disappears into Flora’s mouth. I ache to join her, to taste him, to feel his essence on my tongue.

With a final, tortured groan, he spills himself into her mouth, bucking his hips once, twice.

I kneel beside her, watching as she holds his cum in her mouth, savoring the sight of her full lips before she releases a soft moan, opening her mouth slightly to reveal the evidence of our work.

“Now kiss her, Nash,” Colt whispers. “Swallow some of my cum.”

My body responds instantly. It’s odd how I always need to be in control in daily life, but here in this setting, nothing is more sexy than being told what to do by him. I lean in, capturing Flora’s mouth in a deep kiss, swirling my tongue with hers, sharing his cum with her.

She moans into my mouth, surrendering to the moment.

Finally, we part, reluctantly, Colt’s cum consumed by the both of us.

The three of us are breathless, our chests rising and falling sharply, the charged air thick between us.

Colt’s eyes hold mine, his expression soft, affectionate. I see the love there, unguarded, and my heart stutters in response.

“Now that,” he says with a small smile, “is how you take care of me.”

I smile back. “Glad to be of service.”

Flora giggles, the sound light and carefree, and it warms something in my chest. She rises gracefully, offering her hand to Colt, and pulls him up from the mat. He winces slightly, and she’s immediately at his side, her hand on his elbow to support him.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” she gestures to the nearby sink. Then we can grab some lunch.”

Colt hesitates, his eyes flitting between us, and I sense his uncertainty. Our bodies have spoken what our mouths have not. This is the second time we’ve crossed that line, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.