Page 29

Twenty-Nine

The therapy room was small.

One table. Two chairs. A clock that ticked too loud. A window that didn’t open.

I sat down slowly—hands folded. Eyes forward. Calm.

Too calm.

Dr. Reynolds tilted her head. “Dawn,” she greeted, pen poised. “How are we feeling today?”

A smile curved across my lips. Soft. Controlled. Perfect.

Sunshine.

“I’m okay,” I said.

But it wasn’t me.

Not really.

It was him.

Sun settled into me like second skin, adjusting my posture—shoulders relaxed, back straight, legs crossed at the ankle like I had nothing to hide.

“That’s good to hear,” Dr. Reynolds said, cautious. “You’ve been eating. Participating. Even joined group art this morning.”

“Mm.” I hummed. “It’s… peaceful here. Quiet.”

Not a lie.

He liked the quiet.

When I slept. When I trembled. When he could press warmth into my skin without resistance.

Her pen scratched the paper.

“And the thoughts you were having before? The dissociation?”

Sun ran a hand down my thigh beneath the table. Soothing. Steady.

“I was spiraling,” I said carefully. “Overwhelmed. There was… a lot. And I didn’t know how to ask for help.”

That part was true.

I hadn’t.

So he had.

Dr. Reynolds nodded. “You mentioned feeling like something else was controlling your body. Do you still feel that way?”

I smiled. Just a little. Just enough.

“I feel more like myself again,” I said. “I think I was running from some things. Memories. Fears. But I’m not afraid anymore.”

Because you’re ours now, he whispered inside me. And we’ll never let anything hurt you again.

Her pen moved again, slower this time.

“And what do you feel about going home?”

Sun tilted my head. A flicker too smooth. Too measured.

“Cautious,” I said after a beat. “But ready. With the right meds. The right support… I think I’ll do better in my own space.”

She looked up. “And do you feel safe?”

I leaned forward, just a little. My voice dropped. Intimate.

“I do now.”

A pause stretched between us. A test.

I held.

She wrote.

“I’ll bring this to the team,” she said finally. “I think we can explore early release with structured outpatient care.”

I beamed. Or maybe Sun did.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice dripping honey and relief.

Thank you for giving her back to us.

I didn’t remember walking back to my room.

One second I was sitting in Dr. Reynolds’ office, saying words I didn’t choose, smiling with muscles I didn’t move—and the next, I was in the hallway. Warm fingers laced through mine. The scent of sunshine and something older clung to the air like incense.

Sun was humming.

In my voice.

But I wasn’t using it.

The world swam, dreamlike, as we moved down the corridor. Every overhead light seemed too bright. Every step too soft.

“You did so well, Sunshine,” he whispered from somewhere just behind my ear. “I’m so proud of you.”

I didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

My body was still mine—but something beneath it hummed with satisfaction. Something other .

When we reached the door, I blinked—and then I was alone again.

The weight inside me shifted.

Settled.

Mine again.

But only barely.

My knees gave out just enough to make me stumble into the wall. My hand braced on the cold surface as I tried to catch my breath, but the air was thick. Sweet. Like syrup and sunlight.

I turned.

They were both there.

Sun stepped fully out of the shimmer, his form golden and glowing and so warm it made my pulse stutter.

Moon followed a moment later, silent and sharp. His gaze cut straight through the fuzz in my head.

“I—what… what happened?” I asked, my voice weak.

Sun smiled like I’d just given him the stars.

“You were perfect,” he said, stepping forward. “You were everything .”

“You let us help you,” Moon added, tone calm but eyes burning. “That’s all that matters.”

“I didn’t—I don’t remember?—”

“You don’t need to remember, Sunshine,” Sun cooed, fingers brushing down my arms, igniting heat in their wake. “You need rest. You need comfort.”

“You need us,” Moon said, stepping closer on my other side.

I should’ve moved.

Should’ve screamed.

But all I could do was breathe.

Barely.

“Let us take care of you,” Sun said, lowering his lips to my ear.

“I—someone could come in?—”

“They won’t,” Moon said. “And if they do… we’ll handle it.”

Moon’s hands weren’t cold anymore.

They were cool —the kind of contrast that made heat feel hotter. That made the throb between my legs turn from ache to need.

He didn’t say a word.

Just slid my sweatpants down to my thighs, slow and reverent, like he was unwrapping something sacred. My body jerked at the first brush of air against my bare skin.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, like it hurt to say it. Like the word itself wasn’t enough.

Sun was at my side in an instant, hand threading through my hair, thumb brushing my cheek like I might break.

“You’re so perfect like this,” he said, his voice a golden hum. “Laid out. Open. Letting us take care of you.”

My thighs trembled.

Moon settled between them, his breath kissing skin no one else had ever dared to touch.

And then?—

His mouth.

Not rushed. Not greedy.

Worshipful.

The first lick was slow , flat-tongued, precise. My hips jerked off the bed before Sun caught me, pressing me down with the weight of his palm over my stomach, grounding me in place.

I whimpered.

Sun’s hand slid higher. Over my ribs. My chest. My mouth.

“Shhh,” he breathed. “You don’t want to get caught, do you?”

My breath caught in my throat. Not from fear—but from heat. From the way Moon’s tongue traced a lazy pattern just above my entrance, teasing me with what he wasn’t doing. From the way Sun’s fingers brushed my nipple through my shirt, just enough to make me feel it without giving me relief.

I was being dismantled. Piece by piece.

“You’re shaking,” Sun murmured. “You feel that? That’s how much you need this.”

Moon groaned low in his throat, like the taste of me was addictive.

Like he was starving and I was the only thing that could sate him.

I couldn’t stop grinding.

Couldn’t stop crying out—not loudly, but soft, desperate gasps against Sun’s palm.

“Good girl,” Sun said. “Let it build. Let us make you feel everything.”

I couldn’t think.

Couldn’t breathe.

Moon’s fingers dug into my thighs, holding me open while his tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes. Sun’s other hand ghosted down my torso, not quite touching—but commanding every twitch.

My body was burning.

Clenching.

Begging.

And then—Sun leaned close. Mouth brushing my ear.

The words hit me like a detonator.

“Come for us, Sunshine.”

The explosion wasn’t graceful.

It was brutal. Beautiful. Endless.

My hips bucked.

Moon held me down.

Sun swallowed every sound I tried to make as I came hard—without a single thought left in my head.

Only sensation.

Only them.

Only mine .

I collapsed into the sheets, gasping, trembling, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes.

Moon kissed my thigh, slow and lingering.

Sun pulled his hand away, replacing it with his lips—pressing a kiss to my temple like he was sealing the moment in place.

“You’re safe,” he whispered.

“You’re ours,” Moon added.

And in that haze of aftershock, I believed them.

Even if none of it was real.

Even if I was losing my mind.

They were mine.

And I was theirs .