This is an entirely self-indulgent ot4 beta-kid-pile. When times are stressful, writing porn is therapeutic. I’m not apologizing.
I really just want them to live happily ever after and kiss each other a lot.
Four is perfect; four is exactly right.
Four of you together, two boys and two girls, two blond and two dark, Prospit and Derse, day and night, light and shadow.
Four around a table, four across on the couch. Four in your little beater of a car, on another harebrained roadtrip where the destination doesn’t even matter, splitting the driving, sleeping propped together in the backseat, singing to whatever is on the radio. Four is a perfect little circle, a square knot that doesn’t loosen no matter which end you tug.
Four in your bed, at midnight or at three in the afternoon, a tangle of arms and legs. Often when someone is tired or busy or traveling you’ll group off in twos or threes, but when all four of you are at home and willing — those are your favorite times.
You come home to find the living room empty and Dave’s sunglasses folded neatly and abandoned on the coffee table. That’s your first sign. Then you hear the soft familiar sounds from an open bedroom doorway somewhere upstairs, so you follow.
Your eyes adjust quickly to the dimness of drawn curtains. They’ve all shed their clothing already. Jade is on her back and Dave is propped over her, kissing her unhurriedly. Rose straddles Jade’s hips. She turns and sees you in the doorway, reaches out for you.
You strip off your shirt and go to them.