Reconnecting...

Claire and Grant sat side by side on the plush couch in Dr. Mendez's office, the late-afternoon light catching in the tall windows.

Grant had been quieter than usual, and Dr. Mendez -- a thoughtful woman with soft curls, sharp eyes, and a calm presence -- let the silence stretch just long enough.

"Grant," she said gently, "last time, Claire shared something vulnerable by mentioning that she feels sexually unsatisfied. I get the sense there's something you're still carrying. Would you be willing to put it into words?"

He shifted uncomfortably, his gaze fixed on the floor. "I don't know how to say it without sounding... fragile."

"Try me," Dr. Mendez said, her voice both firm and kind. Grant took a breath. "I've always felt like maybe I wasn't enough for Claire -- physically. Especially when it comes to sex." He hesitated. Claire's mouth parted, but she didn't interrupt.

She looked heartbroken -- not by what he said, but by how long he'd carried it alone.

Dr. Mendez didn't flinch. Instead, she nodded with the calm of someone who'd heard many versions of this same pain before."Thank you for saying that out loud, Grant. I'm going to be direct with you -- as a woman, and as a professional: yes, penis size can affect sensation for some women. It doesn't mean everything, but it's not irrelevant either. And pretending it doesn't exist can make the shame even heavier."

Grant's eyes lifted slightly, surprised not to be dismissed.

Claire finally spoke. "Grant... I love you. I didn't say those things to hurt you. But yeah... with Dylan, there was a kind of pressure and depth that my body responded to. It doesn't mean I don't want you. I do. But I haven't known how to bring this up without making you feel like less of a man.

"Dr. Mendez gently interjected. "That's a burden many women carry -- not wanting to speak their truth because they're afraid of hurting their partner's confidence. But what you're both doing now? This is where real intimacy starts. No editing, no pretending. Just the raw stuff."

Grant let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding."So I'm not crazy for feeling this way?" he asked.

"Not at all," Dr. Mendez said. "It's okay to name this. And it's also okay to explore ways to work around it -- creatively, emotionally, physically. You are not broken. Neither of you are. You're simply at a crossroads where honesty will shape the path forward."

It had been weeks since that pivotal session with Dr. Mendez. The air between Claire and Grant was clearer now, not lighter -- but clearer, like a storm had passed and left them staring at the wreckage and the rebuilt foundation underneath. They were talking, touching, and trying. But something still lingered at the edges of their conversations, a question neither of them wanted to say out loud again.

One night, after dinner and a quiet walk, Grant finally brought it up."I've been thinking about what you said... about Dylan."

Claire froze for a second. "I wasn't going to bring it up again. I don't want to hurt you.""I know," Grant said gently. "But you weren't trying to hurt me the first time either. You were being honest. And I've been thinking about what it would mean -- not just for you to experience that kind of pleasure again, but for me to let go of this fear that it would erase what we have."Claire sat down slowly. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," he exhaled, "that if you really believe being with Dylan -- even just once -- would help you reconnect with a part of yourself you've lost... I'm willing to give you that. With boundaries. And with trust."

She looked at him, stunned. "You'd be okay with that?"

He paused. "No. I wouldn't say okay. But I'd understand it. And I'd rather be the partner you can explore hard truths with than the one you hide them from and I want to get there with you. But I also know this isn't just about us anymore. It's about you reclaiming something for yourself."

They walked in silence, the air thick with meaning."If you decide to see him," Grant added, "I want us to be clear. It's not an open marriage. It's not a hall pass. It's a one-time step into something we've talked about at length. And it's something I want us to process together afterward -- not apart."Claire nodded, barely holding back tears. "I don't even know how to respond. Except to say... thank you. And that I don't take this lightly. Not for one second."Dr. Mendez looked at Claire thoughtfully, her pen resting on her notepad, unused. She leaned forward slightly, her voice calm but pointed."

Claire, earlier you said that orgasms came more easily with Dylan. Can we unpack that a little more? What made the experience different for you?"

Claire hesitated. Her hand was still gently resting on Grant's knee."I'm not sure I can explain it without sounding like I'm comparing them."

Dr. Mendez nodded. "That's okay. This isn't about judging anyone. It's about understanding what your body and mind respond to. Being honest here is a step toward building something better with Grant -- not away from him."

Claire looked down, collected her thoughts, then spoke."With Dylan... it was physical, yes. I felt more pressure during penetration, and that made a big difference for me physically. But it was also the way he treated sex. It was very unapologetic. He didn't hesitate. He wasn't gentle -- not in a careless way, but in a confident way. Like he expected me to want it. And I think that made me believe I should want it, too."

She looked up at Grant, eyes full of conflict. "With you, I've always felt loved and safe. But sometimes I feel like we're being careful -- like you're trying not to do anything wrong, which is sweet, but it pulls me out of my body. I start worrying about how you're feeling, and whether it's going okay for you. I stop focusing on myself."

Grant stayed quiet, absorbing it all. His jaw clenched for a moment, then released."

So with him," he said slowly, "you didn't have to think so much.""Exactly," Claire said, relieved that he understood. "It wasn't better because I loved him more. I didn't. But it felt more primal, I guess. More physical."

Dr. Mendez leaned back, thoughtful. "This is really important insight. For many women, the ability to orgasm is tied to surrender -- to letting go of control, even mentally. And what Claire just described isn't about love or loyalty, it's about context. Dylan's physical traits and his sexual confidence allowed her to shut off her inner monitor. That doesn't mean Grant can't help her get there -- but it may require stepping outside of his comfort zone, emotionally and physically."

Grant nodded slowly. "I think I've been so afraid of doing something wrong, or making Claire feel pressured, that I've ended up being... passive."

"That makes sense," Dr. Mendez said. "Especially if you've internalized shame around your body or performance. But intimacy that's truly satisfying for both partners often includes a space where both people can express what they want -- even if it feels bold or messy or different."

Claire reached for Grant's hand. "I don't need you to become someone you're not. I just want us to stop tiptoeing. I want to feel like you want me without hesitation."

He gave her hand a squeeze. "I think I do want that too. I just didn't know how to say it."

The car ride home was quiet. Claire watched the streets pass through the window, her fingers tracing the edge of her seatbelt.

Grant kept both hands on the wheel, jaw set, eyes forward. But it wasn't a cold silence -- it was a silence full of thoughts that didn't yet have words.

When they got home, Claire kicked off her shoes and sat at the edge of the bed. Grant went to the kitchen, opened the fridge, then closed it again without taking anything out. He finally walked into the bedroom and sat beside her.

"I've been thinking," he said. "About everything you said in there. About Dylan."

Claire swallowed. "I wasn't trying to make it about him. I was trying to explain what I feel... and what I miss."

"I know," he said, nodding slowly. "And I know it's not just about him. It's about what you felt in yourself when you were with him. That confidence. That release.

"He looked over at her. "And I want you to have that again. Even if it's not with me."

Claire blinked. "Grant..."

"I've fought it," he said. "I've tried to ignore the comparison. Tried to be enough. And I know now that this isn't about me not being enough in general. It's about something I can't give you in the exact same way. And it kills me a little... but it doesn't make me love you less."

She reached for his hand, but he wasn't done.

"I need you to know something. This isn't a free pass. It's not a door we're just swinging open and pretending there won't be consequences. If you decide to see him... I want us to talk through every step. I want honesty before, during, and after. No secrets. No sugarcoating. And no pretending it didn't happen."

Claire nodded. "Of course. I wouldn't want it any other way."

"I don't know how I'll feel when the moment actually comes," he admitted. "I might spiral. I might regret saying yes. But I also know I'll regret it more if I say no and force you to keep carrying this need around like it's shameful."

He looked into her eyes now, fully open."So... if this is still what you want, Claire -- if you truly believe being with Dylan will help you heal or grow or even just feel like yourself again -- then... I'm saying yes. I'm giving you my permission. With all the fear and love I have in me."

Claire sat still for a moment, as if the weight of his words took a second to settle. Then she whispered, "Thank you."

Grant nodded. "I don't know what this will mean for us. But I do know this -- I'd rather walk through it with you than pretend it's not real."

Later that night, after the long, raw conversation with Grant, Claire sat alone on the back porch, phone in hand. The stars above her blinked quietly, like they were waiting too.

Her thumb hovered over Dylan's contact. They hadn't spoken in over a year -- not really. A few casual run-ins. The occasional "hope you're well" text. But now this wasn't casual. This was loaded.

She hit "Call."

He answered on the second ring."Claire?" His voice was calm, deep. The same voice that used to say her name a thousand different ways.

"Hey," she said, already flushed. "You have a minute?"

"Yeah. Everything okay?"She hesitated. "That depends. I have... something sensitive to talk to you about."

A pause. Then: "Okay. I'm listening."

She took a breath. "I've been struggling in my marriage -- not emotionally, we're solid there. But sexually. I've had trouble... finishing... for a while now, and Grant and I have been in therapy, trying to work through it. And something came up that I didn't expect."

"Alright..." Dylan said cautiously.

"I realized that when I was with you, I didn't have that problem. It was different -- the way you touched me, the confidence, even just... how you showed up. And I brought it up with Grant. Honestly. I wasn't planning on anything. But it led to a deeper conversation. And he's... given me permission to see you."

Silence.

Claire pressed on. "Not to start something. Not behind anyone's back. But maybe... one night. With total honesty. To explore what's missing. Or what I've lost in myself."

Dylan exhaled, long and low. "Wow. Okay. I mean... I didn't expect that."

"Neither did I," she admitted. He paused again.

"Is this something you're really prepared for? I'm not saying no. But I need to know this isn't going to blow up your life. Or mine."She nodded, even though he couldn't see it. "We've thought through it. There are boundaries. But yes, I want to do this. Carefully. Respectfully. And only if you're open to it."

After a few seconds, Dylan's voice softened. "Yeah. I'm open."

Two nights later, Claire and Grant pulled into the parking lot of a quiet but cheap hotel just outside the city. The kind of place where no one asked too many questions.

Claire wore a long coat over a simple dress -- not flashy, but elegant. Her hair was done, but not overly styled. She wanted to feel beautiful, but not like she was pretending to be someone else.

Grant parked the car and turned off the engine. Neither of them moved right away."Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.

"No," she said honestly. "But I need to. And I need you to know... no matter what happens in that room, I still come home with you."Grant nodded slowly. "I know."

He didn't look comfortable. But he didn't look broken either. There was something steady in his eyes -- pain, yes, but also commitment.

Meanwhile, Claire sat in the passenger seat of Grant's car, staring out the window as the city lights blurred past."Are you okay?" Grant asked softly, glancing at her.

She nodded. "I'm nervous. But... I think I'm okay.

The hotel room was quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioner. Claire knelt by her open bag, hands trembling as she laid out the black lace lingerie she had chosen -- delicate and understated, yet beautiful.

Grant watched her from the bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "That's the one you picked?"Claire nodded. "I thought it felt... right. But now I'm second-guessing everything.""Don't," Grant said gently. He stood and picked up the bra, feeling the soft lace between his fingers. "You'll look incredible in this. Do you want me to help?"

She hesitated, then gave a small nod. "Yeah. Please."Claire slipped behind the privacy screen in the corner to remove her dress, then stepped back out in just the lingerie bottoms, holding the bra awkwardly. "I can't get the clasp," she said, a nervous laugh escaping her lips."Turn around," Grant said softly. She did, and he carefully fastened the clasp, his fingers brushing along the small of her back as he did. When she turned back to him, her arms instinctively wrapped around herself.

"Don't," Grant said. He reached up and moved her arms to her sides. "Let me see you."

Claire stood at the foot of the bed, her shoulders drawn back slightly as if summoning courage. The warm hotel light caught the thin frames of her glasses, which rested delicately on her nose and framed her wide, expressive eyes.

The black lace lingerie hugged her soft, curvy figure, accentuating the roundness of her hips and the gentle fullness of her stomach. The bra, its cups lined with delicate scalloped lace, held her small breasts securely while allowing a teasing glimpse of the smooth skin beneath. Thin straps pressed gently into her shoulders, a reminder of the weight they carried.

The matching bottoms sat low on her waist, their elastic lace band dipping slightly at her belly before curving back up over her hips. The fabric stretched snugly over the swell of her thighs, leaving her legs exposed and vulnerable.

Claire's fingers fidgeted at the edge of the lace, the small gesture betraying her nerves. But even in her hesitation, there was something arresting about her. Her cheeks were flushed, and the soft fullness of her face was framed by loose strands of hair that had escaped from behind her glasses.

Her body was plush and warm-looking, the kind of softness that invited touch. She adjusted her glasses slightly, a shy motion that only seemed to highlight the nervous tremble in her hands as Dylan's gaze swept over her from head to toe.

She was beautiful in a way that felt real -- curves unhidden, her glasses slipping just slightly down her nose as she looked to Grant. Vulnerable, but standing her ground.

She looked down shyly, but his gaze wasn't one of lust -- it was reverent. "You're stunning," he said simply.

"Doesn't it hurt," Claire asked quietly, "knowing you're dressing me for another man?"

Grant paused, then stepped closer and adjusted the strap on her shoulder. "Yeah, it hurts. But I'd rather be part of this than pretend it's not happening. At least this way, you know I'm with you." Claire sat on the edge of the bed in the black lace lingerie, her hands folded nervously in her lap, watching as Grant knelt beside her open overnight bag.

"What are you doing?"

"Our therapist suggested I give myself a job to keep my mind focused" said Grant. He pulled out a small zippered pouch and began setting the contents on the bedside table. One by one, he arranged them with deliberate care: A box of regular condoms. A box of ultra-thin condoms. Another brand with textured ones. Then his hand paused when he reached the gold box. Magnum condoms.

For a beat, he just stared at the box, the bright metallic packaging almost glaring back at him. He swallowed hard and set it down with the others, but his hand lingered on the table longer than it needed to.

Claire noticed immediately. "Grant," she said gently. "What is it?"He tried to shake it off. "Nothing. It's just... there are a lot of options here."

Her eyes softened. "It's the Magnums, isn't it?"He exhaled, finally meeting her gaze. "Yeah. I know it's ridiculous, but those... it makes me feel like I'm literally laying out proof that I'm... not enough.""Grant..." Claire moved closer, kneeling down so they were eye-level.

"This isn't about better or worse. You're the man I trust enough to be here through all of this. That means more than size ever could."

He gave a small, strained laugh. "It's hard to feel like that when I'm setting up a whole shelf's worth of condoms like I'm curating for him."

Claire touched his face gently. "You're curating for me. That's what this is about."He let her words sink in and nodded, even though a dull knot still sat in his chest. He finished arranging the boxes neatly on the bedside table, lining up the lube alongside them."

Okay," he said finally, voice quieter. "We're ready."

A knock on the door startled them both. Claire's breath hitched, and she instinctively reached for her dress. Grant placed a hand gently on her wrist. "No," he whispered. "You're ready. Don't hide."

He stood and walked to the door, stealing one last glance at the row of boxes on the bedside table. The gold one stood out like a spotlight in the corner of his vision, but he squared his shoulders and opened the door anyway.

Dylan stood there, calm and expectant, as Claire watched silently from the bed.

When Grant opened the door, Dylan stood there like he had stepped straight out of another world -- one that didn't care about hotel carpets or neatly arranged bedside tables.

He was tall and lean, his posture loose but confident. A worn black leather jacket hung open over a faded Misfits t-shirt, the skull logo cracked and peeling. His dark jeans were ripped at the knees, not because fashion said so, but because years of wear had done their job.

Heavy black boots scuffed the threshold, and a silver chain looped from his belt into his pocket, glinting under the soft hallway light. A few tattoos snaked down the visible part of his forearms -- a mix of old-school designs and something newer, sharper. His dark hair was a little messy, like he hadn't spent much time on it but somehow it looked intentional. A thin silver ring pierced one eyebrow, and a faint scar cut through the stubble along his jawline, giving him a rugged edge.

Dylan's sharp brown eyes flicked over Grant briefly before landing on Claire, who sat on the bed in her lingerie. For just a second, the hard punk exterior softened, and he gave a small nod, as if silently saying, I see you.

"Claire," he said, his voice deep and unhurried. "You look incredible."

Claire's breath hitched. "Thank you," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dylan walked further in, moving with a deliberate confidence that made Grant's presence feel almost invisible. He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it casually over the chair in the corner without a glance toward Grant, as if he weren't even there.

Grant's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He stood just off to the side, trying to steady himself as Dylan closed the distance to Claire.

Dylan sat down on the edge of the bed beside her, close enough that their thighs touched. "I missed seeing you like this," he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers.

Claire looked uncertain, glancing at Grant briefly, but Dylan reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, drawing her focus back to him."You don't need to be nervous," Dylan said softly. "I've got you."

Dylan leaned in, his voice just above a whisper. "Do you want me to touch you?"

Claire swallowed hard, then nodded. "I... yes. I want you to touch me," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Dylan reached out, running his fingers lightly down her arm. Claire shivered under the soft contact, her eyes closing for just a moment.

Grant could feel the tension knotting in his chest, but he forced himself to stay grounded behind her.

Dylan stood close to Claire, his presence commanding and deliberate. He brushed his fingers under her chin, tilting her face upward.

"You trust me?" he murmured.

Claire nodded, breath shaky. "Yes."

"Show me," Dylan said softly, never breaking eye contact.

Grant, standing a few feet away, felt his stomach twist as Claire slowly sank to her knees in front of Dylan. She looked up at him once, as if silently asking for reassurance. Grant's jaw clenched, but he gave a small nod.

Claire's hands moved slowly, deliberately, resting first at Dylan's waist. She felt the rough edge of his belt under her fingers as she began to unbuckle it, the small metallic click echoing loudly in the quiet room. Dylan stayed perfectly still, watching her every movement.

Her fingers trembled as she found the zipper and eased it downward, the soft rasp of metal teeth breaking the silence. She could feel Dylan's steady breath above her, and without looking up, she gently pushed the waistband of his jeans apart.

When the zipper reached the end, Claire paused, her hands resting at Dylan's hips. Grant told himself to focus on Claire's face, on the love they shared, but his gaze flicked downward at the exact moment Dylan pushed his jeans lower. And then he saw.

A cold rush went through Grant's chest, and for a moment he felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. He'd always known Dylan was bigger -- Claire hadn't said it outright, but there had been hints, silences in conversations. Still, seeing it for himself, the difference was stark.

A mix of emotions churned all at once: shame, anger, a gnawing sense of inadequacy. But layered beneath that was something quieter -- fear. Fear that this night would awaken something in Claire he could never match, fear that she would look at him differently afterward.

He clenched his jaw, trying to steady himself. He reminded himself why they were here: this was about Claire, not about him. He forced his shoulders back, standing taller even as his stomach twisted.

Dylan didn't even glance at him as Claire took his manhood into her mouth. He was entirely focused on Claire, his hand gently resting at the back of her head. Grant felt like an intruder in his own life. Despite the ache, he stayed. Because he had promised Claire he would.

Slowly, she moved her head back and forth, her hands resting lightly at his hips. The closeness was intimate, undeniable, and Grant felt his chest tighten at the sight. Every instinct told him to look away, but he couldn't -- he stayed rooted, silent, his heart pounding as Claire let herself focus on Dylan's manhood fully.

As Claire moved with a cautious rhythm, her eyes closed, her brow furrowed in concentration as though she were shutting out the rest of the world -- including Grant. Grant's stomach twisted at that. Watching her give herself over, watching the way Dylan's presence filled the space between them, he felt smaller than ever. But even as the ache gnawed at him, he knew he couldn't stop her.

Dylan didn't acknowledge Grant. He kept his gaze locked on Claire, though Claire would repeatedly open her eyes to glance over at Grant.

Dylan's breathing slowed, deepened, as she moved with tentative rhythm.

Grant shifted his weight uneasily, his fists at his sides. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't. Each quiet sound in the room cut straight through him -- Dylan's low exhale, Claire's muffled breaths, the sound of Claire mildly gagging.

After a long moment, Dylan reached down and guided Claire back to her feet. "That's enough for now," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her flushed face. "I want you on the bed."

She nodded, still catching her breath and Dylan guided Claire gently toward the bed, his hand warm and firm at the small of her back. She sat down slowly, her eyes flicking toward the bedside table where Grant had carefully arranged the boxes of condoms earlier.

Dylan glanced at the table too, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth when he saw the lineup. Without hesitation, he reached straight for the box of Magnums at the center.

Grant's chest tightened. He'd known Dylan would choose those, but seeing him hold the box -- the gold foil glinting under the hotel light -- felt like a punch.

Dylan stepped closer to Claire, holding out the wrapper toward her. "Here," he said softly but firmly. "I want you to put it on me. I want to feel your hands first. Take your time."

Grant swallowed hard, the request hitting him like a wave. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't.

Claire took the condom wrapper from Dylan's hand, her fingers trembling as she tore it open. Dylan's voice was low and calm, grounding her.

"Good," he murmured. "Now... go ahead."

Claire's hands trembled as she held the open condom wrapper. She looked up at Dylan for guidance.

"You know how," Dylan said softly, his voice smooth and certain. "Just take your time."

. She reached up carefully, her fingers brushing Dylan's skin as she placed the condom at the tip and began to unroll it. Dylan exhaled slowly. Claire's breath was shaky, her eyes darting quickly toward Grant as though to make sure he was still with her.

Claire lay back on the bed slowly and moved the bottoms of the lingerie down. She spread her legs as Dylan positioned himself over her, one hand braced beside her head, the other trailing lightly down her side. Claire shivered under his touch. Her eyes darted toward Grant, standing just a few feet away. Their gazes locked for a heartbeat, and in that small moment she saw the tightness in his jaw, the hurt buried beneath his still expression. Grant nodded once, slow and deliberate, giving her silent permission to continue.

Dylan lowered himself closer. Grant could feel his pulse hammering in his ears as he watched Dylan settle between Claire's legs, his movements confident and unhurried.

Dylan's hand brushed Claire's hair back from her face, his touch almost tender. Claire closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as she tried to surrender to the moment.

Grant stepped a little closer to the bed, his fists unclenching at his sides. He wanted to reach for her hand, to anchor her, but he stopped himself, knowing this was about her now -- about what she needed.

"Breathe," he whispered to her, his voice deep and steady. "Just focus on me."Claire swallowed hard and nodded, her chest rising and falling quickly beneath the lace of her bra. Dylan leaned down, brushing his lips softly along her jawline, his touch deliberate but unhurried. She gasped quietly at the warmth of his mouth, her body reacting despite the swirl of emotions in her head.

Grant stood only a few feet away, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. He couldn't look away. Every small movement -- Dylan's hand sliding slowly up Claire's waist, her soft intake of breath -- etched itself into his mind.

Dylan thrust inside. She felt the mattress dip beneath his weight, his hands steady on her hips. Her glasses slipped a fraction lower as she looked up at him, wide-eyed, uncertain but not resisting."You're safe," Dylan murmured again. "Just let go."

Claire's fingers gripped the sheets, and she gave the smallest nod.

Grant clenched his fists, the ache in his chest growing deeper with every second, but he forced himself to remain still. He had promised Claire he would be here, and he would not break that promise. Dylan leaned closer, his lips brushing Claire's ear as he whispered something only she could hear. She shivered, her eyes fluttering shut as he began to move with her, slow and deliberate. The room was quiet except for Claire's uneven breathing and the creaking of the bed. Her soft body was trembling faintly from the effort of holding herself together.

She avoided looking at Grant, afraid he would see what she had tried so hard to hide.

Dylan hovered over her, watching her closely. He brushed a loose strand of hair from her damp forehead, his voice calm but pointed.

"Claire," he said quietly, "did you come?"Her breath caught in her throat.

"I..."

"Don't lie," Dylan interrupted gently, tilting her chin so she had to look at him. "I want to know if you really felt it."

Claire's eyes darted to Grant for just a second. He stood at the foot of the bed, still and silent, but she could feel his presence like a weight pressing down on her chest. Claire's lips trembled as she shook her head weakly. "I just... I didn't want to make it harder for him," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Dylan looked over his shoulder briefly at Grant, then back at Claire. "This isn't about him right now," he said softly, but firmly. "This was about you. Did you come?"

Claire hesitated, then gave the smallest nod.

"Yes," she whispered, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye.

Dylan held her gaze a moment longer, then leaned close enough that his voice was only for her. "Good. You deserved that," he murmured. Grant's stomach twisted at the words, but he stayed rooted to his spot, forcing himself not to break the fragile quiet.

Grant nodded once, his voice low and strained. "I know," he said. "I'm here."

Claire lay back against the pillows, still flushed and trembling faintly, Dylan close at her side. Tears pooled in her eyes as she met Grant's gaze. He stepped closer to the bed and reached for her hand, taking it gently but firmly into his.

"Claire," Grant said softly, his voice steady even as his chest ached, "don't ever hide that from me again."

She squeezed his hand, guilt flickering in her wide, glassy eyes. "I... I didn't want to hurt you," she whispered. Grant crouched lower beside the bed, still holding her hand tightly. "It hurts more to think you feel like you have to pretend," he said, his tone thick with emotion. "I need you to be real with me. Even if it's hard. Even if it breaks me a little."

Her fingers trembled in his. "I just thought... if I held back, it might make this easier for you," she said softly, glancing away.

Grant gave her hand a small, grounding squeeze. "Claire, you already made it harder," he said, voice breaking slightly. "Because I love you enough to want you to feel everything -- even if I'm standing right here watching."

Grant reached up with his free hand, brushing the tear from her cheek before returning it to her fingers, holding her hand firmly, as if anchoring her in place.

Dylan, watching from his spot at Claire's side, didn't interrupt. He could feel the power in the bond between Claire and Grant and simply stepped back slightly, giving them the space they needed. Grant didn't let go of her hand. He stayed there, crouched at the bedside, thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles in a slow, soothing rhythm.

Dylan leaned in, his movements purposeful, his voice low and commanding. "Don't hold back this time, Claire," he murmured. "I want all of you."

Claire trembled, her soft body quivering with each deliberate motion. Her eyes fluttered shut, but Grant's voice was there, grounding her.

"I'm right here," he whispered, squeezing her hand. "Don't hide. Not from me."

The tension building in her core grew impossible to contain. She arched against the bed, her glasses slipping halfway down her nose, a sharp cry escaping her lips. "Oh God--" Dylan's pace stayed steady, pushing her higher, and Claire's restraint shattered. She clutched Grant's hand so hard it hurt as her voice broke out in a raw, desperate shout:"He's so big!"The words hung in the air like a lightning strike, tearing through Grant's chest even as he held her hand tighter, refusing to let go.

Claire's entire body convulsed with the release, her legs trembling as wave after wave of pleasure surged through her. She buried her face into the pillow, muffling a sob as the orgasm ripped through her completely.

Grant leaned closer, whispering softly, his voice steady despite the ache her words had left in him. "It's okay, Claire. I've got you... just let it happen."

Her grip on his hand was like a lifeline, clinging to him as the tremors finally began to subside.

When it was over, Claire collapsed back against the bed, flushed and breathless, her glasses askew. She turned her tear-filled eyes toward Grant, her lips trembling. "I... I didn't mean--"

Grant shook his head quickly, brushing the hair from her damp face with his free hand. "Don't apologize," he said softly. "I told you not to hold back... and you didn't. That's all that matters."

She brought his hand to her lips, kissing his knuckles softly. "You're everything," she whispered.

His steady grip anchored her as Dylan leaned close again. Her breath hitched, her soft body quivering as he moved with deliberate rhythm. Claire's glasses had slipped halfway down her nose, but she barely noticed, her head tipping back as the pressure built inside her. She turned her face toward Grant for a fleeting second, tears shimmering in her eyes. He squeezed her hand, his voice a low whisper of reassurance.

Dylan's grip on her thigh tightened, urging her deeper into the moment.. Her body arched against the bed as Dylan thrust again and again. He was starting to get faster. He leaned in closer, pressing Claire's legs up over her shoulders. The tension shattered, a desperate, unrestrained cry ripping from her throat.

The scream filled the room as her orgasm tore through her, stronger than the others, years of suppressed emotion and pleasure erupting all at once.

"Christ, it's been so long since I've felt like this!" she shouted. She knew she should feel guilty but the excitement of the orgasm distracted her.

She clutched Grant's hand so tightly it made his knuckles ache, her whole body convulsing with the force of it. Grant stayed right there, whispering softly through the lump in his throat.

"It's okay, Claire... I've got you. Just let it happen."

Claire's voice broke into sobs as the waves rolled through her, Dylan's hands steadying her hips as he coaxed her through every trembling moment.

"That's it," Dylan murmured, brushing a soft kiss against her temple. "That's what I wanted to see. That's what you needed."Claire was still trembling, her body recovering from the intensity of her third orgasm. Her glasses sat crookedly on her flushed face, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. But Dylan wasn't finished.

He shifted his weight, his rhythm growing more insistent. His grip tightened on Claire's legs as he rested them on his shoulders and leaned into get even deeper.

Claire gasped, her free hand clutching at the bedsheets as her body responded involuntarily to his pace. "I... I don't know if I can--"

"You can," Dylan murmured firmly, leaning close to her ear. "Stay with me, Claire. Don't let go of Grant's hand."

Her fingers tightened around Grant's, her tears still fresh but her voice soft. Dylan's breathing was uneven now, his motions more urgent. He pressed his forehead briefly to Claire's temple as the tension in his body reached a breaking point.

"Claire..." Dylan's voice was a low growl, almost a plea. "I'm so close."

Claire clung to Grant's hand, her own body shaking as she cried out while having her fourth orgasm.

Dylan's pace stuttered as a guttural sound escaped him. With a final, forceful motion, he buried himself deep and shuddered violently, the release ripping through him. He pressed his face into the curve of Claire's neck, his breath ragged as he came undone. The room went still except for the sound of breathing. Dylan's grip slowly loosened on Claire's hips, his weight softening against her before he finally withdrew. Claire collapsed fully into the mattress, turning her tear-streaked face toward Grant. He was still there, still holding her hand like a lifeline.

Dylan sat back on his knees, sweat dampening his dark hair, his chest heaving. He didn't speak. There was nothing to say in that moment.

Grant leaned closer to Claire, brushing a lock of damp hair from her cheek. "I'm right here," he whispered again, his voice steady despite the tightness in his chest.

Claire kissed his knuckles softly, her tears still wet against his skin. The room was quiet now, the heavy rhythm of breathing slowly beginning to steady. Claire lay on her back, her body slack with exhaustion, Grant's hand still clasped in hers. Her glasses had slipped entirely askew, but she didn't care. She turned her tear-streaked face toward Grant, his presence grounding her as it had through everything.

Dylan wiped a hand across his brow, his dark hair damp and disheveled. For the first time that night, the sharp confidence on his face softened into something quieter, more reflective.

Claire's voice was a whisper, hoarse from the cries she'd stifled and the ones she hadn't. "Grant..." She squeezed his hand weakly. "I don't even know what to say," she admitted, her voice breaking.

"You don't have to," Grant said, his thumb tracing gentle circles over her knuckles. Dylan shifted slightly, his gaze flicking between the two of them. He cleared his throat softly, the sound almost out of place in the thick quiet. "I'll... give you both a minute," he said, his voice low and gruff.

Claire turned her head toward him, the gratitude in her eyes unspoken. Dylan rose from the bed, gathering his clothes from the chair in the corner. He dressed in silence, his movements calm but unhurried. Grant didn't look up until Dylan approached the door. The two men exchanged a glance -- not hostile, but weighted, a silent acknowledgment of what had just transpired. Dylan gave a short nod.

"Take care of her," he said simply. With that, Dylan slipped out of the room, the door closing softly behind him.

Claire turned into Grant's chest the moment Dylan was gone. He wrapped his arms around her immediately, holding her close as the flood of emotions finally broke free. She sobbed softly into his shoulder, her body shaking with the release.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I didn't mean to hurt you... I just--"

Grant hushed her softly, pressing a kiss to her damp hair. "You didn't hurt me," he said, even though his chest ached. "You needed this. I saw that. And I'm glad I could be here with you."

Claire clutched at his shirt, her voice muffled against his chest. "I felt so much, Grant. I don't even know how to explain it.""You don't have to," he murmured, stroking her back gently. "I just want you to know that you're safe... and I'm still right here."

She pulled back slightly, tears glistening in her eyes behind her crooked glasses. "I love you," she whispered.

Grant cupped her face in his hands, brushing away her tears with his thumbs. "I love you too," he said. "And nothing about tonight will ever change that."

She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. For the first time since Dylan had arrived, the room felt still, the air no longer charged but heavy with quiet closeness.

The room was quiet as Claire slowly pulled the sheet around her shoulders and sat up. Grant was right beside her, one hand resting lightly on her back. She looked down at the bed, still feeling the weight of everything that had just happened."I should... I should get dressed," she whispered. Grant nodded softly. "Do you want me to help you?"

"Yeah," she said, her voice barely audible.

She stood carefully, gathering the sheet around her. As she moved, her eyes caught on the bedside table the used condom Dylan had left behind in his hurry to dress. Claire froze, staring at it for a moment. Grant saw it too and moved closer, but before he could reach for it, Claire stepped forward. She picked it up carefully by the edge, holding it like something fragile and tainted all at once. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she walked to the small trash bin by the dresser and dropped it inside.

"Thank you for... for letting me have this moment. But I want to leave it here. I don't want to bring it home with us."

"Let's go home," she said softly and Grant nodded.

Claire and Grant stepped out of the hotel room, walking hand in hand down the hallway. The weight of the night clung to them, their pace slow and measured. Two hotel maids stood by their cleaning carts a few feet ahead, talking quietly. When they spotted Claire and Grant, their conversation stopped. Both looked toward the closed door they'd just left, exchanging knowing glances.

As the couple approached, one of the maids stepped forward, her expression curious, almost mocking. The other covered her mouth with her hand, barely holding back a laugh."Excuse me," the first maid said, her tone deceptively casual, "if this is your husband..." She gestured openly to Grant, her eyebrows raised. "... then who was the one making you scream so loud earlier? Him... or the other guy?"

The second maid burst into laughter, elbowing her coworker as she giggled uncontrollably.

Claire stopped cold. The blood drained from her face and then rushed back in a flush of humiliation. She looked at Grant, panic in her wide eyes, but he stepped forward immediately, shielding her.

"That's none of your business," Grant said, his voice low but firm, every word edged with steel.

The first maid smirked and shrugged, unbothered, while the second snickered again and muttered something in Spanish under her breath that made them both laugh harder.

Grant gripped Claire's hand more tightly and gently guided her past the women. Claire kept her head down, her face burning, as the maids' laughter followed them down the hallway.

At the elevator, she whispered, "They know... they know what happened in there."Grant turned to her, cupping her face gently so she had to look at him.

"Claire," he said softly, "they don't matter. What we just went through isn't for them to understand. It's for us."Her chest hitched as she nodded, blinking back tears.

They moved quickly through the lobby and into the car. Claire sat silently in the passenger seat, staring out the window as the streetlights flickered across her glasses.

"I feel so exposed," she admitted finally.

Grant reached over and rested his hand on her knee. "You're not," he said softly. "those maids don't matter. Only you and I matter."

The car ride was quiet, the weight of the night heavy around them.

When they pulled into the driveway, Claire's phone buzzed. She hesitated before looking.

It was Dylan.

"You were incredible tonight. We should do it again."

Claire's breath caught as she stared at the glowing words.

Grant noticed immediately. "Who is it?" he asked, though he already knew.

She turned the phone so he could see. Grant's jaw tightened, but he covered her hand with his.

"We'll figure it out," he said firmly. "Together."Claire nodded and leaned into him, her voice trembling. "I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," Grant promised softly. "We're stronger than this."

And for the first time that night, Claire believed him.