17. Amara

I can't tellyou how I have ended up in the shower in our ensuite bathroom, but I have my guesses. I suspect Wren carried me and I wish I could remember it; their arms around me, their strong body holding me close to them. But I'm here now, standing under a hot spray of water as Katja holds me up from behind. She is much shorter than Wren and me, but she is strong too. Although it is soft and curvy, delectable with its lushness, she has power in her body.

"Are you okay, Amara?" Katja asks as one of her hands rubs a pouf up and down my body leaving a trail of bubbles in its wake. There is a firmness in her voice that makes me wonder if she has asked a few times.

"Subspace," I reply sleepily as if to explain it.

"Ahh," Katja acknowledges and waits a moment before adding, "Tonight was the closest I've ever got to understanding what that's like, you know."

"That's Wren's mouth for you," I joke in a quiet voice, my eyes half-lidded, and Katja chuckles, her body wobbling against mine. It's heaven. It feels like heaven, and yet…

"Where's Wren?" I ask, looking through the glass door and around the bathroom.

"Getting water and some food." Katja kisses my back. "They are so good at obeying my orders."

I swallow and open my eyes a little more. "So, you think they really are a sub?"

"I think they are still figuring it out." Katja pauses. "And I think you're doing the right thing by letting them do so."

I nod but don't reply.

Katja is running the pouf down the sides of my thighs when the bathroom door opens and Wren enters. I smile at them, but they don't see. Their eyes are fixed on watching us, watching Katja's hand run up and down my body, her other arm around my waist, gripping me to her so I don't fall over.

"Join us," I say, holding out a hand.

I expect them to refuse. Showers have never been Wren's favourite activity to share with me on account of how uncomfortable they are completely undressing, but Wren doesn't refuse. They pull down the boxers they'd put back on and throw off the T-shirt they were wearing. They step into the shower with their sports binder still on and they stand opposite me.

"Help me look after Amara," Katja says, and hands Wren the pouf. "Does she have a shower cap for her hair?"

I open my mouth to reply but Wren is quicker.

"I'll get it," they say and they move quickly to grab it from its hook on the wall.

Together Wren and Katja cover my hair with the shower cap and tuck in the loose ends.

"Wash the back of her body, Wren, while I take care of the front."

I hum my approval of this plan. Wren takes the pouf, and lovingly washes my arm, stopping only to kiss my shoulder.

"Which is your shower gel?" Katja asks and I twist to point to a bottle.

"Not too much. It dries out my skin if I use too much."

"Such a bossy little thing, aren't you?" Katja says and her voice is all playfulness, but I love it. I love her teasing me like she knows me inside and out. I close my eyes, I hold my breath, I will this moment to never end.

Katja using her hands to soap up my arms, my breasts and my stomach does little to pull me out of this drowsy state, but I don't want to fall asleep yet. So, just as she starts to rinse the suds out, I take the pouf from Wren's hand and find a different bottle of shower gel for it. I then rub it over Wren's neck and shoulders, watching them close their eyes and tilt their head so I have better reach.

I think they look tired too, but then I realise it's not fatigue but relaxation slackening their features. I've just not seen Wren this relaxed in months, years perhaps.

"Are you okay?" I ask them. The falling water is the only sound for a few seconds as we all wait for Wren's answer.

"Yes." Wren nods at me. "I am more than okay. I feel… good."

"It was… good." I give them a half-smile.

"It was more than good," Wren says and they don't hold back their broad grin.

An idea flies into my mind and while I'm pleased with myself for thinking it, it's a bittersweet revelation because why haven't I asked Wren this before? Why haven't I offered to do more things like this for them?

"Can we… Can we wash your hair?" I ask.

Wren's eyes travel from mine to Katja and then back again.

"Okay," they say.

I push gently off Katja and slowly switch places with Wren, moving them so their head can tip back under the rainfall shower. Katja's fingers run down the shaved sides of Wren's head and when Wren closes their eyes and releases an audible sigh, I know how good those red-painted nails are feeling against Wren's scalp. I reach around them both, find Wren's shampoo and when they straighten up, I work it into their hair.

Together Katja and I massage Wren's head and the suds from their shampoo glide down our skin. At some point, Wren's hands come up to envelop me and they rest against my lower back. At least they do to begin with, but by the time Katja is tipping Wren's head back under the water to wash the bubbles away, Wren is clawing at my ass, digging their blunt fingernails into my flesh, and it feels like they are staking ownership of me again, reclaiming me as their own and I melt with it. I melt into a puddle of desire as I slide my hand between us and find their clit, which is swollen and hard.

I play with Wren while Katja finger combs their hair and I don't know if it's Katja's touch or mine that has them moaning, rolling their hips so they press into us both in turn, but I love it. I never thought I'd love watching Wren submit to nothing but pleasure, but I do. And there it is again, that bittersweet tang to my new discovery. Why shouldn't I want to watch the human I love most in the world chase their joy?

"I'm so sorry, Wren," I say before crashing my face into the crook of their neck, wanting to hide the tears that I feel rising in my eyes. "I'm sorry you had to be something you're not for me."

"Ama," they say.

"It's okay, Amara," Katja says and I huff out an ugly half-sob at hearing her voice. I'm so glad she's still here. I was so scared she would just up and leave as soon as the sex was over, but she's here, she's still here…

"I'm truly sorry," I cry into Wren's collarbone.

"Amara," Katja says and her voice has an edge to it now. A jagged edge. "Wren knows you're sorry, but they don't need your apologies right now. Do you know what they need?"

I shake my head against Wren's wet skin. "No."

"They need you to make them come," Katja says. "They need you to play with their cunt while I finger their perfect little asshole until they're screaming out our names."

"Oh, fuck," Wren says and I feel their whole body tense. I imagine Katja's red-tipped fingers between Wren's butt cheeks. Maybe it's strange, a little sick even, but it makes my tears slow and it makes me pull off Wren and I stand straight again. My hand resumes rubbing their clit.

"So eine brave, kleine Schlampe," Katja says. "Ach, wenn ich euch doch nur behalten k?nnte."

"Fuck, I'm going to come," Wren grunts and it's their turn to lean on me, their face falling to land on my chest. They leave rushed, absent-minded kisses on my skin as I rub harder and faster in tighter circles. Over their shoulder, I see Katja leaning against Wren's back, her fingers busy between their cheeks. She's kissing Wren's skin like they are kissing mine, and I'm stunned by how utterly perfect it all is. How perfectly we fit together. How perfectly we play with each other's bodies. How perfectly easy and simple and yet irrevocably powerful it all is.

"Oh, God, fuck," Wren screams. "Katja, Amara! Fuck, Ama, Katja, Katja, Katja."

They repeat Katja's name until their climax evaporates and I feel no jealousy or envy or hate. I feel nothing but love, for my love and for the stranger who brought my love back to me. No name has ever sounded so beautiful in Wren's mouth, including my own.

I'm about wrap my arms around Wren, hold them as the last tremors of their body still, but they turn to Katja and kiss her hungrily.

"Thank you." Wren pulls back to ask, "now, can I make my wife come?"

My stomach muscles clench.

"Yes, my handsome Wren, you can. As long as…"

"Yes, Chef?"

"I can do it with you."

And they do. They work together seamlessly like a well-oiled machine, kissing their way down the front and back of my body before turning me to put my hands up against the tiled wall and spreading my legs. Then Wren crawls between my legs and leans their back against the wall before pulling my pussy down on their mouth, all while Katja kneels behind me and her tongue finds my asshole.

I come. Twice. Both times my hands are holding their heads firmly to my body, as if they're about to be dragged from me and I don't want that.

Which is why, as Wren hands me my robe and Katja a towel as we step out of the shower, I take a deep breath and ask the only question I want answered.

"Will you stay?" I ask Katja.

"What?" She looks shocked, a little horrified, like I just asked her to walk over hot coals.

"Please stay with us," I say tightening my robe and taking the shower cap off and knowing my hair is a kinky, frizzy mess. But I don't care. I only care that we're all three of us together for as long as we can be.

"But I have a train to catch tomorrow." Katja's eyes flit between Wren and me, before they seem to turn more inward. "And a whole new life to start."

"A new life?" I ask, confused and curious.

"I'm leaving London and moving to Margate. I've always wanted to live by the sea." Her eyes turn dreamy. "And have a dog. My flat in London was too small for a dog."

"That sounds… exciting," Wren says and their voice sounds as disappointed as I feel.

"We'll set an alarm for the morning," I offer, forcing a smile.

"But…" Katja looks at Wren. "Do you want me to stay?"

"Very much so," Wren replies but their eyes land on me. And I allow myself a daring thought. Wren wants this too. Maybe Wren wants Katja too, and not just tonight.

Maybe together we can convince her that we want her to stay, forever.

"I have to clean up downstairs first," Katja says, rubbing her body with the towel in such an abrupt and efficient way, it makes me smile. I wonder how she does other mundane and domestic things. Does she hum as she brushes her teeth? Does she open her mouth when she applies mascara, like I do? Does she like to read before bed? Does she like coffee or tea first thing in the morning?

"No," I say, gently, and Wren shakes their head in agreement. "That can wait for tomorrow."

"But the sushi on the floor?—"

"Isn't going anywhere," Wren finishes for her, and then they reach for Katja's arms and wrap the towel around Katja's body again. "I'll find you a toothbrush and some pyjamas."

"No, don't." Katja stops them. "I mean, toothbrush, yes, but I prefer to sleep naked."

My eyes and smile widen.

Twenty minutes later and our teeth are all brushed (and no, Katja doesn't hum while she brushes her teeth but she does wink at my reflection in the mirror), my hair is combed carefully after Katja asked my permission to do so and I'm wearing my silk bonnet, and we are all lying in bed together, myself and Katja naked, and Wren in clean boxers and a sports binder.

"Are you comfortable?" I ask Katja who lies between Wren and myself.

Katja looks at me and then at Wren. "I'm feeling a lot of things right now and comfortable might be one of them."

I prop my head up on my hand, my elbow bent. "Do you need an extra pillow?"

"No, that's not what I need." Katja's eyes go to the ceiling and she pulls the sheets up a little higher.

I'm frozen with the need to make her feel more relaxed, to make her feel at peace. To make her feel at home, with us.

"How do you like to sleep?" Wren asks, mirroring my position.

Katja snorts. "With my eyes closed and my breathing consistent."

Wren laughs gently. "I mean, do you like to be held?"

It's a simple question, but I can see how it floors Katja and it's so peculiar to see the confident, dominating woman morph into something so vulnerable and exposed. She swallows, her gaze back on the ceiling.

"I like… Yes, I like to be held," she admits and that's exactly what it sounds like, feels like. Like Wren and I just witnessed a confession.

If Wren is startled by Katja's revelation, they don't show it. "Then roll over," they say. Katja is hesitant, but she does eventually roll to her side, facing me. I give her what I hope is my most reassuring smile.

The sheets move as Wren wraps their arms around Katja and the bed dips when they shift their weight to press up against Katja's back. Wren tucks their head onto Katja's shoulder and kisses her neck, over and over and over again, until Katja's eyes close and her frown irons itself out.

I move closer too, slipping my hand over Wren's arm and embracing them both. My leg nudges against Katja's knees and I'm delighted when she parts her legs to allow mine inside. She opens her eyes and smiles at me, and I'm thrilled when I see her enigmatic sparkle is back.

"Do you both like to be held? Can you sleep like this?" she asks, her warm breath close enough to kiss the tip of my nose.

"I can sleep like this," I say.

"I already am," Wren says, their eyes closed.

Katja and I laugh silently, our gazes locked together.

"Goodnight, Wren," Katja says softly.

"Yes, goodnight, Wren," I say before adding. "I love you."

But there's no reply. They're already asleep.

Under the covers, I stroke Wren's arm and feel it rise and fall in a steady rhythm. And then I move my hand to Katja's face and I stroke her cheek until her eyes fall shut and her breathing evens out.

"Goodnight, Chef," I say to her, and when she doesn't react, I whisper, "I think I love you, too."

And then I close my eyes and fall asleep imagining that this is my future. That Katja and Wren are my future.