Liam had left Cailan on his own in the tent for the first time while he went to fetch their dinner, but he wasn’t alone for long. Tris and Roope stumbled in after returning from exploring the camp, the canvas flap barely falling shut behind them before their hands were all over one another’s bodies. Cailan watched, wide-eyed, as Tris and Roope collapsed onto their joined sleeping mats.

What began as playful jostling quickly morphed into something far more intense. Tris’ fingers tangled in Roope's long hair, pulling him close. The wet sounds of their aggressive kissing filled the tent, punctuated by muffled groans that made Cailan's cheeks burn.

Cailan quickly averted his gaze and lay perfectly still on his own mat, trying to become invisible as his heart pounded in his chest. These were Liam's friends, he reminded himself. Liam trusted them. But they were strangers to Cailan, and past experiences had taught him to be wary.

Memories of earlier incidents with Liam's school friends flashed through Cailan's mind. The leering looks, the unwanted touches. After those encounters, Liam had become fiercely protective, keeping everyone at arm's length from Cailan.

But now, Liam had willingly brought Cailan into close quarters with these two men. If Liam had chosen to let his guard down after so long, there had to be a good reason.

By the time Liam returned, Tris and Roope were a tangle of half-naked limbs. As Liam passed, Tris's hand shot out, fingers grasping at his pant leg with playful desperation.

Liam deftly sidestepped, balancing the tray of food with practised ease. His voice was tinged with amusement as he said, "I appreciate the invitation, but this food looks barely edible warm. I don't think I could stomach it cold."

He made his way to Cailan, settling beside him with a soft grunt. The warmth of Liam's body so close sent a shiver down Cailan's spine, both comforting and unsettling. Liam began portioning out their meal, the clink of utensils against plates providing a surreal soundtrack to the passionate scene unfolding mere feet away.

A pair of pants sailed through the air, landing with a soft thump near Cailan's feet. He flinched, then forced himself to focus on his food, mechanically bringing forkfuls to his mouth without tasting a bite. The tent suddenly felt suffocatingly small. Every moan, every mysterious sound of skin against skin, seemed amplified in the confined space.

As the minutes ticked by, Cailan felt his initial fear begin to ebb. In its place, a new sensation took root—a mixture of curiosity and longing that both excited and shamed him. He'd witnessed sex before, but always as something brutal or degrading. This was different. The air was thick with pleasure, not pain.

Cailan snuck glances at Liam, searching his face for any sign of discomfort or arousal. But his master's expression remained neutral as he ate, seemingly unaffected by the passionate display.

A particularly loud groan from Tris made Cailan's cheeks burn. He couldn't help but imagine Liam making such sounds, wondered what it would feel like to draw them from him. The realisation hit him like a physical blow—this wasn't just sex, it was intimacy. Something Liam shared with others, but not with him.

The hurt blossomed in Cailan's chest, sharp and unexpected. If sex could be this beautiful, this mutually satisfying, why didn't Liam want to share it with him? He'd always told himself that Liam was protecting him, that his virginity was a gift. But now, confronted with the raw passion of Tris and Roope, he understood the truth. Liam simply didn't want him in that way.

Cailan swallowed hard, forcing down another tasteless bite of food. He focused on breathing evenly, desperate to maintain his composure even as his world shifted beneath him.

#

The monotony of camp life settled over Cailan like a heavy blanket, each day much the same as the one before it. Cailan found himself alone in the tent once again, perched on his sleeping mat with a well-worn book in his hands. 

His fingers absently traced the book's spine as his eyes scanned the same paragraph for the third time. The words blurred together, his mind drifting to the list of chores he'd already completed. He longed for more tasks, anything to occupy his hands and quiet the nagging voice in his head that whispered that he wasn't earning his keep. Liam's reassurances did little to ease this deeply ingrained anxiety.

Suddenly, the tent flap burst open, letting in a gust of cool evening air and the boisterous laughter of Tris, Roope, and Hamish. The sharp scent of wine hit Cailan's nostrils as they stumbled inside, clearly intoxicated. Hamish clutched a half-empty bottle, its contents sloshing dangerously with each unsteady step.

Hamish's gaze landed on Cailan, his eyes slightly unfocused. He offered a lopsided smile and a polite, if wobbly, nod before turning his attention to Tris. His hand snaked around, giving Tris’ backside a firm squeeze that elicited a surprised yelp followed by appreciative laughter.

Cheeks burning, Cailan quickly turned his back to the trio, hunching over his book. He tried to focus on the text, but each giggle and rustle of clothing behind him sent a jolt through his body, making the letters dance and jump on the page. His ears strained involuntarily, picking up every muffled sound despite his desperate attempt to ignore what was happening behind him.

“Is it okay to do this with Cailan in here?” Hamish asked, his words slightly slurred.

“Mm, yeah, it’s fine,” Tris said. “He’s in here literally all the time, so it’d be a problem if we couldn’t. Liam says it’s fine as long as we don’t touch Cailan or involve him in any way.”

Cailan's shoulders tensed, his body instinctively curling inward as if to make himself smaller. He could feel their eyes on his back, burning into him.

“What does Cailan say?”

"Not much, usually," Tris replied with a dismissive chuckle.

Cailan's fingers tightened on his book, knuckles whitening. He was accustomed to overhearing Tris and Roope's intimate moments by now, but Liam's presence had always provided a buffer, and Hamish's involvement added an unpredictable element that set Cailan's nerves on edge.

He couldn't help but recall the times Tris had tried to coax Liam into joining them. Liam had always declined, at least when Cailan was present. But the way Liam's eyes would linger, the slight flush of his cheeks... Cailan was certain his master had partaken when he wasn't around.

Footsteps approached, and Cailan's heart leapt into his throat. He looked up, startled to find Hamish looming over him. The man's cheeks were flushed, his eyes glassy with intoxication. Cailan instinctively recoiled, pressing himself against the tent wall.

But Hamish merely extended the wine bottle, its contents sloshing dangerously close to the rim. "Can you hold this for me?" he asked, his words running together slightly. "Don't want to spill it everywhere."

"Oh, um, y-yes, sir," Cailan stammered, his fingers trembling as they closed around the cool glass. 

"Thanks!" Hamish flashed a grin before stumbling back to join the others.

Cailan's gaze dropped back to his book, but not before catching a glimpse of tangled limbs and flushed skin. The tent filled with a symphony of passion—heavy breathing and muffled moans punctuated by the wet smack of lips and the rustle of hastily discarded fabric. Cailan kept his eyes firmly fixed on the book in his lap, though the words blurred before him. His mind, despite his best efforts, tried to piece together how three people might find pleasure together. The wine bottle in his hands had long since warmed to his touch, the glass slick with his nervous sweat.

Eventually, the noises subsided, replaced by the heavy breathing of satisfied exhaustion. Cailan's muscles, tense for what felt like hours, slowly began to relax. The silence stretched on, broken only by the occasional soft snore.