Marisol sat back slightly, her smile turning gentle. “Because loving him… doesn’t feel like something I want to keep. It feels like something I want to share. Not because I need to - but because it grows when I do.”

  She touched Mia’s knee. “And I know your heart. I see how you look at him. And I would rather walk through life with you as my sister and sister-wife - than ever be afraid of losing him to you in silence.”

  Mia’s eyes welled up.

  Sarah added softly, “And as for me? I’m not losing anything. I’m gaining you. And Bharath gets even more love, more joy, more fire. Why would I be jealous of that?”

  Mia wiped her eyes, overwhelmed.

  Then she whispered, “Would you… be okay doing those things with me, too? I mean… like you do with each other. For him?”

  Marisol looked at Sarah, then smiled - a slow, wicked smile that was somehow also tender.

  “For him?” she said. “Absolutely.”

  Sarah smiled faintly, her voice low and sure. “If he asked us to. If he was watching. If he wanted to see you blush while our lips touched… we’d do it so slowly, you’d feel it in your spine.”

  Marisol’s fingers brushed along Mia’s jaw, featherlight. Her gaze burned-not with lust, but with something far deeper. “But never for us. Always for him. Because we’re his. Completely. Unquestionably.”

  She leaned in, lips just a breath from Mia’s ear.

  “If he told me to spread your legs and pleasure you while he watched, I’d do it with gratitude in my throat.”

  Sarah's breath hitched, but she nodded, her voice breathy. “If he asked me to do anything with you and your sister… I’d do it without question. Because he owns me. Every inch. Every choice. Just like he belongs to Marisol and I.”

  Mia’s eyes widened-shocked, aroused, overwhelmed.

  Sarah reached out and cupped her cheek gently, reverently. “We’re not just lovers. We’re soulmates. And if he asked us to worship you, Mia… we’d do it because to serve him is to serve whatever he loves.”

  Marisol added, voice molten and final, “And if that’s you… then we’ll worship you too.”

  Sarah grinned. “We’d love to perform for him. Tease him. Worship him. With you by our side? Even more fun.”

  Mia flushed deep crimson. “I want that. So badly.”

  Marisol leaned in, voice low. “Then earn it. Day by day. He won’t ask for it. He may not even let himself want it. But we’ll guide him. And when he’s ready… you’ll be his.”

  Marisol sat back, drawing in a long breath like she needed a second to absorb everything too. Her fingers brushed through Mia’s hair the way she always had when they were younger - comforting, maternal even. Except now it felt different. More sacred. Like a torch being passed between priestesses.

  “It’s funny,” Marisol murmured. “I used to think I’d be the jealous one. That I wouldn’t be able to handle another woman in his arms. But then I saw the way Sarah loved him - and how he loved her - and I realized something.”

  She gnced at Sarah. Their eyes met. It was soft. Fierce.

  “When someone makes you feel that much joy,” Marisol said, “you want the people you love to feel it too. And if he could make you feel what we feel? God, Mia. I wouldn’t be jealous. I’d be eted.”

  Mia’s throat tightened. She stared at her sister, eyes wide.

  “I… I don’t know what to say.”

  Sarah smiled and took her hand again. “Just say you’ll keep showing up. Keep trying. Keep growing into the kind of woman who doesn’t just want to be cimed by him - but who’s worthy of it.”

  “I will,” Mia whispered. “Every day.”

  A silence fell over the room again, but this one was different. Intimate. Anticipatory. Like the hush before thunder.

  Then Mia gnced up, biting her lip. “Can I ask one more thing?”

  Marisol ughed. “Since when have you needed permission for that?”

  Mia’s voice dropped. “I keep thinking about that night… my first night with him. I know I have to wait. But I keep wondering what it’ll be like. What you think it should be like.”

  Sarah raised an eyebrow, amused. “You want us to describe it?”

  Mia nodded, cheeks flushed. “Maybe just… how you imagined it before it happened. Or what you’d want for me.”

  Marisol stood slowly and walked behind the couch, her fingertips tracing lightly across Mia’s shoulders. “You want the real answer?”

  Mia swallowed. “Yeah.”

  “Then here it is,” Marisol said. “Your first time with him shouldn’t be about performance or proving anything. It should be about surrender.”

  She leaned down, lips near Mia’s ear. “It’ll be slow. Almost unbearable. Because he’s not going to rush. He’ll want to memorize you. Worship every part of you. Your nerves. Your need. Your body. He’s going to take his time showing you what it means to be his.”

  Mia shivered.

  Sarah joined in, her voice softer. “He’s going to talk you through it. Not in words like most guys do. He’ll do it with his eyes. His hands. The way he breathes your name when you arch under him.”

  Mia’s thighs pressed together again. “Oh god.”

  “You’ll feel like you’re being unwritten,” Marisol continued. “Like you’ve never been touched before. Not really. Not like this.”

  Sarah leaned in. “And if we’re there… watching, maybe even guiding...?”

  Mia’s head tilted up, eyes wide and dreamy.

  “I’d want that,” she whispered.

  “Then we’ll be there,” Marisol said. “We’ll be there to hold your hand when you start shaking. To whisper how proud we are. To tell him what you like. Maybe even…” she trailed off with a wicked grin.

  “…maybe even show you ourselves,” Sarah finished.

  Mia looked like she could melt.

  Sarah nodded. “And only if he asks.”

  Mia leaned back against the couch, dazed and dreamy. “He has no idea what’s coming.”

  Marisol smirked. “None. Poor boy.”

  Then she added, more serious now, “But remember - this has to be earned. Not just by you. But by all of us. Because once we open that door… it doesn’t close again.”

  “I’m ready,” Mia said, voice clear now.

  Sarah kissed her forehead. “Then let’s make him ready too.”

  The door creaked again - this time for real.

  Pizza.