Killian drifted awake, pulled in waves to the shore. His body was warm, the scent of Jamie and Randy and Killian himself all tangled up in the air, thick and delicious.

There were voices murmuring, a soft laugh against his collarbones, and he swam to the surface, opening his eyes.

He blinked at Jamie, all wrapped up in Killian’s arms. Jamie grinned. “Good morning. Or, well, good afternoon.”

Randy squeezed closer, arms tightening around Killian. “Mornin’.”

Killian twisted his head to look at Randy. “Good morning. Uhm. Sorry, did I sleep too long?”

Randy shook his head. “No such thing. Thanks for coming on such short notice.” He flushed, the reason for Killian’s presence hanging between them.

“No problem. I, uh…I wanted to.”

“Yeah?” Randy asked quietly.

“Yeah.”

They stared at each other for a long moment before the tension in Killian’s neck was too much, and he had to rest his head on the pillow again, wiggling into Randy.

Jamie beamed, stroking Killian’s hair off his forehead. “It wasn’t too much?”

“No. It was…it was really good.” Now it was Killian’s turn to blush—not at what he had done or how much he’d liked it, but why he’d loved the experience so much.

It hadn’t just been the physical pleasure. It was the fact that it was Jamie and Randy making him feel that way.

“I’m glad,” Jamie said, brushing his thumb against Killian’s cheek.

Killian took the time to look at Jamie, at how much healthier he seemed. His cheeks had filled out, no longer gaunt and sunken. His body didn’t seem so frail, hips a little fuller, ribs no longer showing. Even his hair had more volume, a brown mess against the pillow. “You look so much better than when we met,” Killian had to say. “Well, not, like—I meant healthier.”

Jamie laughed. “I know what you mean.”

Randy leaned over Killian. “Tell him about the doctor’s visit.”

“Oh, yeah. So, I went to the doc right before Randy’s rut hit, and he said that I can start the treatment! So, like, my next heat shouldn’t hit for a while, and it should be better. It’ll take time for my hormones to adjust but, yeah. If this works…”

You won’t need me anymore, was Killian’s first thought, and he hated himself for it. “Fuck, I’m so happy for you.”

“Thanks.” Jamie smiled. “I mean, we don’t know for sure it’s gonna work, but they ran some tests—gave me a version of the treatment and measured how my body reacted, and they said I was a perfect candidate for it.”

“That’s amazing, Jamie.” And it was amazing. The relief he felt at the thought of Jamie no longer being in danger was like a boulder being rolled right off him.

The albatross around his neck, though—the sin that he carried—was the selfish, disgusting feeling of loss at the reality of what Randy and Jamie disappearing from his life meant for him.

Maybe Killian’s dad was right. Maybe he wasn’t worth the dirt he walked on.

“Thanks,” Jamie said, looking at Randy and changing the subject. “Smells like your rut’s about done.”

“Yeah,” Randy agreed, and another pang went through Killian. Maybe that was his cue to leave. Before Killian could spiral, though, Randy went on, “Not quite, though.”

“Uh-huh,” Jamie said. “You wanna make us some food?”

Randy nodded, agreeing quickly, dragging Jamie and Killian to the living room so he could ‘watch over them.’

Jamie put something mindless on the TV, lying on top of Killian. “He’s so protective during his rut, it’s crazy. Sweet, though.”

“Yeah,” Killian murmured.

“You okay staying today? We can, uhm, call the agency. Actually, let me do that now if you’re free and I can—”

“It’s fine,” Killian cut him off. “Don’t worry about it. We can sort that out later. I’m happy to be here, you know?”

Jamie twisted his mouth, clearly conflicted. “If you’re sure. Like I said at the start of this, I don’t want to take your time for granted just because you enjoy being here, so…”

“You’re not. I promise.”

“Okay,” Jamie capitulated. “Do you have to call anyone? Cancel anything?”

Killian wasn’t going to admit he’d cancelled his appointments on the way there. “Nah. Free as a bird.”

Jamie smiled. “Okay, sweet. I get you to myself until Randy finishes cooking what will inevitably be way too much food. Once, he made pasta and literally used the whole packet. It was…so much pasta.”

Killian snorted. “How did that even fit in one pot? That shit expands like crazy.”

“Oh, he used three. It was a big packet of pasta.”

They giggled into each other, stopping when Randy appeared over the back of the couch. He was holding a spatula, wearing nothing but an apron and smelling obscenely of sex and the three of them.

“What are you laughing about? I heard my name.”

Jamie grinned at him mischievously. “Just about how big and strong you are.”

Killian muffled a snort, looking at Randy appreciatively. “You’re so good to us, Alpha.”

Randy visibly tensed at the epithet. Jamie laid his head on Killian’s shoulder, stretching over him, clearly teasing Randy with his body.

Killian fluttered his eyelashes. “Alpha?” he said breathily, laying it on, but it had its effect.

Randy disappeared, a clatter of pans and frantic rustling coming from the kitchen as Jamie and Killian grinned happily at each other.

“Let’s go hide,” Jamie whispered, clutching Killian’s hand and yanking him towards the bedroom.

“Closet.” Killian pointed, and they scuttled inside, closing the door carefully.

There was a moment of tense silence, and then Randy was throwing the closet door open, staring down at them with an exaggerated frown. “You think I can’t find my mates during rut?”

Everything went very, very quiet except for Killian’s heart, which started pounding loudly in his ears.

Mates. Not mate, singular. Mates.

Killian had experienced a lot of panic attacks, especially when he was a kid, but each one felt brand new. He was breathing, but he couldn’t breathe. He was standing up, but he couldn’t move. Everything was like a roaring river inside him, rushing past, sweeping him along mercilessly as he gasped for air.

“Sorry,” Randy was saying, voice sounding like an echo in a giant room. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

And that was worse because of course he didn’t mean it. Randy was in rut and into the fantasy of having two mates, and Killian would never be good enough for something as perfect as this.

“I just—” Killian was trying to get some fucking air in his lungs. “I just need to go to the bathroom.”

Randy and Jamie let him go, and Killian stumbled towards the washroom, closing the door behind him.

Fuck, God, he was so stupid. The last time he’d had a panic attack, the client had looked so…disgusted. Freaked out, like Killian had turned into some horrible, human creature in front of him instead of the perfect little toy he was supposed to be.

And he’d been doing so well for so long. Keeping it together, ignoring the nightmares, keeping his sister off his back, convincing himself and convincing himself and convincing himself that he was okay because he was okay, he was—

Killian wanted to crawl under something. Under a desk or a table or the blankets on a bed. But, nowhere to hide, he wedged himself under the sink and stared at the pretty, patterned blue-and-white tiles. There were outlines of boats and waves, a sea monster peeking out to his right.

He was okay. He was the dumbest person alive, but he was okay.

It took him a while, but he got his breathing under control. He was covered in sweat but felt too ridiculous to waste more time in the shower, splashing some cold water on his face instead.

He picked up all the pieces of himself that had fallen out, pressed them into a place where it hurt, and opened the bathroom door.

It was quiet in the apartment. Jamie straightened from where he was sitting on the bed, Randy nowhere in sight.

“Hey…” Jamie said tentatively.

Killian hated that he’d caused that uncertainty. “Hey. Uh, sorry ’bout that. Dizzy spell or something.”

Jamie looked at him carefully. “Killian…we’re really sorry. We’ve obviously crossed a boundary—maybe several boundaries—and we’re really, really sorry.”

Killian shook his head, holding his hands up to stop him, but Jamie went on.

“No, Killian, really. We, uh…I guess we view you as a true friend, and maybe that’s inappropriate. I know that you’re providing a service and that we shouldn’t assume that because you spend time with us, you’re offering more than that service. It’s wrong of us to insinuate that there’s more there than you want to give.”

Killian was still shaking his head, his chest being squeezed into a tight little ball, but he didn’t know what to say because his boundaries had been crossed—not just by them, but by Killian, too. He’d let them into his heart willingly, openly, from day one.

Randy and Jamie had never felt like clients to him, and he didn’t know why. He’d had plenty of friendly clients, clients whom he liked spending time with, clients whom he was attracted to. But with Randy and Jamie…it was just different.

He didn’t particularly care about being wanted by his clients. It was an ego boost sometimes and always good for business, but he wasn’t moved by it. It didn’t feed him, didn’t nourish him beyond a shallow sense of satisfaction.

Feeling wanted by Randy and Jamie was a completely different thing, and it was shaking all sense of direction out of him.

He didn’t know where to go from here. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to keep that sense of belonging that Jamie and Randy gave him, but the reality was that if he accepted it for real, he’d just ruin it in the long run. They’d find out what he was actually like, and he’d be left in pieces.

Killian forced a smile on his face, feeling like the skin around his lips was dead, and he was just pulling on it with his fingers to get it to move. “It’s totally fine. It happens, especially when heats and ruts are involved, you know? I know Randy didn’t mean it. I know it sounds like an excuse, but I really do think my blood pressure is just low. A few pretzels and I’ll be right as rain.”

Jamie stared at him for a few seconds, something indecipherable on his face. “Okay,” he said eventually. “Wanna go to the kitchen? Or if you want to go, of course you can do that, I know this was super last minute.”

Escaping this situation sounded ideal, but he couldn’t just leave. “No, we’re good. Kitchen sounds great.”

They trudged into the living room quietly, but Randy lifted his head as soon as they walked in. He was hunched over, sitting on the couch, clothed in sweats and a T-shirt.

“Hey,” Randy greeted, voice wobbly as he straightened up.

“Hey, man. Sorry about that, I think I need some food or something.” Killian forced a laugh out of his throat.

“No,” Randy said quickly. “I’m really sorry. That was totally inappropriate of me, I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

Killian shook his head even though calling someone your mate was never a joke. Not even his clients went there—it wasn’t like calling someone Daddy or Baby or Alpha or Omega. It was…too intimate for that.

But Randy was in rut, kind of, and mistakes happened.

“It’s fine, you’re good. I’m starving, though. Should we finish cooking what you started?”

Randy opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, obviously lost, but he eventually stood up and nodded. “Sure. It’s almost done.”

“Sweet.”

Killian could do this—he could pretend his heart wasn’t full and aching with Randy and Jamie.

He’d survived worse.