The Georgia autumn was showing off - crisp air, golden leaves swirling in zy eddies, and a sky so clear it felt painted. Marisol tucked herself under Bharath’s right arm. Sarah cimed the left. Three sets of footsteps in sync. One unit.

  A few passing students turned to look, some curious, others sck-jawed. A few whispers trailed behind them.

  But none of them cared.

  Marisol was humming softly, her hand trailing zy circles against Bharath’s lower back. “So… I was thinking.”

  “That’s always dangerous,” Sarah quipped.

  “Quiet, slut. I was thinking it’s time you were properly inducted.”

  Bharath gnced down, suspicious. “Inducted into what? She already knows about Sacred Tuesdays.”

  “And lives for them,” Sarah added, smiling wickedly. “Nooners, cock worship, sacred choking. Best part of the week.”

  Marisol grinned. “Exactly. But there’s one thing you haven’t done yet. One ritual.”

  Sarah tilted her head. “There’s more?”

  “Oh yeah,” Marisol said, voice low. “The ciming.”

  Sarah slowed her step. “Ciming?”

  Marisol stopped for dramatic effect, tugging Bharath and Sarah to a halt with her. “When we first got together, Bharath made me lie down on his bed… and he pointed to every single part of my body and decred it his.”

  Sarah’s eyes widened slightly, lips parted.

  “He’d say, ‘Mine,’” Marisol whispered, her voice like velvet. “Then he’d touch it. Sometimes kiss it. Sometimes spank it. Sometimes…” She gave Bharath a sly look.

  “I get the picture,” Sarah said, her cheeks pinkening.

  “I didn’t even know I craved that kind of ownership,” Marisol confessed. “But the way he did it? Reverent. Commanding. Like my body was a kingdom, and he was its rightful ruler. I melted.”

  Sarah turned to Bharath, pupils dited. “Why haven’t we done this?”

  Bharath rubbed his temple. “Because every Tuesday you two wreck me for hours and I can barely walk by lunch let alone remember rituals.”

  Marisol giggled. “He’s still recovering from st week. Remember how you choked yourself on him while I rode him and made him spank me until I sobbed?”

  Sarah shivered. “I do. I still dream about it.”

  “I still feel it,” Bharath muttered.

  Sarah pressed herself closer to him. “Tonight. I want the whole thing. Cim me. Worship me. Own me.”

  Marisol winked. “And then we can spank each other until someone begs.”

  Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Someone?”

  Marisol grinned. “Usually me.”

  Bharath choked. “You two are plotting my physical demise.”

  “Not demise,” Marisol said, her lips brushing his ear. “Devotion.”

  Sarah smirked. “You spank her, right?”

  Marisol nodded. “Sometimes soft. Sometimes hard. Depends on how much I beg for it. Or how much you egg him on.”

  Sarah’s eyes gleamed. “I love watching that. The way she arches. The way you growl.”

  “I swear to god,” Bharath muttered.

  “Oh, and you love it,” Sarah said sweetly. “Just like you love when I choke on you until you twitch.”

  Marisol mock-fanned herself. “I’m horny again.”

  Sarah mock-nodded. “Same. Can’t believe it’s not even noon.”

  Bharath sighed. “Can’t believe I thought college would be about computers.”

  “Speaking of systems,” Sarah said brightly, “I propose a new tradition.”

  “Of course you do,” he groaned.

  “Tandem blowjob and titjob arm clock,” she decred. “To wake you up right. Tuesdays and Fridays?”

  Marisol looked thoughtful. “Hmm. Bance. Holistic. I approve.”

  Bharath stopped walking. “You two need help.”

  “You need protein,” Marisol said, kissing his cheek. “And electrolytes.”

  Sarah looped her arm around his waist. “Man up, lover. You started this. Now keep up.”

  They continued toward campus with Bharath half-ughing, half-dreading, and completely smitten.

  As they crossed the street, the breeze caught Sarah’s curls and Marisol’s voice as she whispered something else in his ear that made him stumble slightly.

  Maria Rivera stirred the pot on the stove with a practiced hand, the scent of simmering tomatoes and garlic filling the kitchen. The clink of a spoon against ceramic echoed behind her-Mia, eating cereal at the counter, for once not glued to the phone or flipping through a magazine. Her leg bounced restlessly under the stool.

  Maria didn’t comment on it.

  She didn’t have to.

  Mia was practically vibrating with energy.

  “So,” Mia said, her tone suspiciously casual, “I might head to campus ter. Marisol asked if I wanted to hang out.”

  Maria arched an eyebrow. “Since when do you ‘hang out’ on a school night?”

  “It’s not just for fun,” Mia said quickly. “Bharath’s helping me with calculus. He’s… really good at expining stuff.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Maria turned back to the stove, hiding the small smile tugging at her lips. “And you need help in the evening now?”

  “Well, yeah. It’s quieter at night. And I might stay over, y’know… spend some time with Marisol. I haven’t seen her properly in weeks.”

  Maria turned, dle in hand, and gave her daughter a long, knowing look. “You used to roll your eyes when your sister talked about college boys. Now you’re volunteering for overnight study sessions?”

  Mia flushed. “It’s not like that. I mean-he’s different.”

  “Different how?”

  Mia hesitated. “He… listens. And he believes in me. Like, really believes I can make it into Georgia Tech. He makes me want to prove him right.”

  Maria watched her carefully, pcing the dle on a folded towel.

  “You like him,” she said simply.

  Mia opened her mouth. Closed it. Then looked away. “Maybe.”

  There was a beat of silence. The kitchen clock ticked louder than it should have.

  “I’m not saying I’ll do anything,” Mia added quickly. “I’m not trying to ruin anything between him and Marisol. I just… want to be near him. That’s all.”

  Maria leaned against the counter, arms crossed. Her gaze softened, but it didn’t lose its sharpness.

  “He’s a good man,” she said after a moment. “That night you met him, I saw it in how he carried himself. The way he looked at you-like you were someone worth taking seriously. Not just for how you look.”

  Mia’s face warmed again, but this time with something deeper than embarrassment.

  Maria continued. “But he’s still a man. And you’re… not exactly forgettable, mija.”

  Mia smirked. “You mean I’m hotter than Marisol?”

  “I mean,” Maria said with a raised brow, “you’ve always known how to turn heads. But your sister has her own fire. And she’s in love. You are stepping too close to that… could burn you both.”

  “I know,” Mia said quietly.

  Maria stepped forward and gently tucked a strand of hair behind Mia’s ear. “Just… be careful, chiquita. Don’t mistake admiration for something deeper. And if it does become something more, make sure you’re proud of how you got there.”

  Mia nodded, her throat tight.

  “I just want to be someone he respects,” she whispered. “Someone he could-maybe, someday-care about.”

  Maria didn’t respond right away. She just pulled her daughter into a brief, warm hug.

  “I hope he is the man you think he is,” she said softly. “For both your sakes.”