Page 65 of Twisted Bonds
“Like finding a bed big enough?” Bobble quips, his warm grin glowing like the sun itself.
“Preferably one that won’t collapse under the sheer weight of your muscle, Bobble,” I tease back, feeling lighter than I have in days.
Sunder huffs out something between a laugh and grunt, the sound rumbling through his chest like distant thunder. It’s moments like these that make the chaos of Illuemera bearable. With each step, the bond pulses stronger, a reminder that no matter how strange this world gets, I’m not facing it alone.
My bedroom door creaks open, revealing my haven of plush pillows and a bed large enough to harbor a small army—or at least the bulky frames of Sunder and Bobble. The room is bathed in the warm glow of firelight, casting dancing shadows upon the walls that seem to beckon us into its embrace.
“Will this do?” I ask, my voice almost a whisper.
Bobble nods, his eyes scanning the space with an almost childlike wonder before they settle on Sunder. There’s a tenderness there, a gentle shift in the way he holds his gaze just a fraction longer than necessary. It’s the kind of look that speaks volumes without uttering a single word.
“More than,” Sunder replies, but his attention isn’t on the opulence of the chamber; it’s fixated on me. His usual gruff exterior seems softened, edges smoothed by something warmer. His eyes flicker to Bobble, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
I can’t help but grin as I look between them. They’re different together now—caught in an orbit around each other that pulls them closer with each passing moment. Their feelings, raw and unspoken, hang between them like a delicate cobweb glistening with morning dew.
It’s so clear to me, but do they see what I do?
“Seems like getting lost has its perks,” I quip, trying to keep the mood light even as my heart swells at their closeness.
“Lost? We were never lost.” Sunder’s protest comes with an arm that snakes around my waist, pulling me a touch closer.
“Searching for you,” Sunder starts, his voice trailing off as he glances down at Bobble. “It made me realize things. And appreciate them more.”
I can’t help but laugh at how Sunder that statement is. It’s about as close to a declaration of love as he gets. My eyes find Bobble’s and I can see the question, the uncertainty, in his gaze. I don’t think he knows how Sunder feels. Sunder probably doesn’t even know how Sunder feels.
“Like how annoying it is when someone steals your favorite weapon during sparring?” My playful lilt strikes like quick ribbing.
“Or how much you miss their incessant whining,” Sunder says, a rare smile playing on his lips.
“Or maybe that grief can crack even the toughest exterior.” Bobble’s voice is softer, more reflective compared to our teasing banter.
“Who would’ve thought?” Smiling, I sense the bond between us, strong and pulsing with life—a threefold cord not easily broken.
“Who indeed,” Bobble replies, and the look he shares with Sunder is one of mutual understanding. A pact sealed without words, forged in worry and solidified in relief.
“Guess we make quite the team, huh?” I say, the reality sinking in, leaving me dizzy with gratitude.
“Always have,” Sunder says, and Bobble nods, their unity enveloping me in a warmth that has nothing to do with the fire crackling in the hearth.
“Always will,” I echo, the truth of it resonating deep within my bones.
The crackle of the hearth fades to a whisper as Sunder’s hands find the curve of my waist, a fierce yet tender touch that sends shivers cascading down my spine. “Gods I’ve missed you.” His voice is a low rumble against my ear.
“More than anything,” I breathe out, fingers tracing the inked lines on his arms, feeling the thrum of his pulse beneath my touch—a wild rhythm mirroring my own heart’s dance.
Bobble steps closer, and the heat from his broad chest envelops me from behind. His breath tickles my neck, and I tilt my head to grant him better access, a silent invitation he accepts with a soft, exploring kiss.
“Good,” he murmurs, and his hands join Sunder’s in a symphony of caresses that weave a tapestry of sensation around us. The room spins. Or maybe it’s just me—caught in the gravity of these two men who have become my guiding stars in this strange new world.
Our clothes fall away like leaves in fall, each piece discarded, bringing us closer to the raw honesty of skin on skin. I’m between them, a conduit of their burgeoning affection, the very air charged with the electricity of unspoken confessions and desires laid bare.
With every touch, every whispered name, we climb a crescendo that careens us toward oblivion. Sunder’s mouth claims mine with a possessive hunger, while Bobble’s hands map the landscape of my body with a reverence that borders on worship.
“God,” I gasp as the world narrows to the here and now—Sunder before me, Bobble behind, our bodies a tangle of limbs and longing.
“Let go, Mira,” Sunder urges, and his voice carries the weight of command and promise.
I surrender to them, to this moment, and the bond that ties us together blazes like a beacon in the night.