The front door clicked shut behind Ace, the sound almost lost under the excited scrabble of claws on hardwood. The German Shepherd was big even for the breed—lean from whatever street life had carved him, coat the color of wet ash and midnight. He held still for half a second, ears forward, then decided the apartment smelled safe enough and shoved his broad head under Ace’s palm. Mai’s silver brows lifted. “You didn’t say he was this handsome.” Shammy stood in the kitchen doorway, one hip against the frame, the faint static in her hair already softening the overhead lights. She exhaled a low laugh that moved the air like distant thunder. “He’s got opinions. Look at that tail.” Ace didn’t answer right away. She crouched, let the dog sniff her face, then rub his cheek along her jaw. Violet flickered once across her irises—quick, almost shy. The dog leaned heavier, warm bulk pressing her balance. She stayed there, compact frame folded against all that muscle and fur, fingers working behind his ears until his eyes half-closed in bliss. Minutes slid by. Treats appeared. Water bowl. A battered tennis ball that Mai rolled across the floor with her foot. The three of them moved around him like planets finding a new sun—soft voices, careful hands, the kind of careful that only people who have survived worse than dogs ever learn. Then Ace’s touch changed. Not sudden. Just slower. She let her palm slide down the dog’s flank, following the dip of spine to the base of his tail. The Shepherd sighed, shifted weight, and something in the room thickened. Mai noticed first; her silver-blue eyes narrowed, curious rather than shocked. Shammy’s charged gaze drifted from Ace to the dog and back, the air between them growing heavier, warmer. Ace looked up once. Not for permission—more like checking the temperature. Whatever she saw in their faces made the corner of her mouth twitch. She kept going. Clothes came off in pieces. Jacket, then shirt, then the rest. The dog followed every motion with pricked ears, nostrils flaring. When Ace settled on her knees on the wide rug, bare skin against the weave, he stepped in close without being called. His nose traced her collarbone, then lower. She let him, one hand steady on his scruff. Mai drifted nearer. Shammy followed, tall frame folding down beside her on the couch. Neither spoke. They simply watched as Ace guided the dog’s weight over her back, as her breath caught when he mounted, as the first uncertain thrust found its mark and her violet eyes fluttered half-shut. The rhythm built slow, then not slow. Ace’s compact body took the weight without complaint, elbows braced, head bowed so black-and-violet hair fell across her face. Small sounds escaped her—nothing theatrical, just honest pressure given voice. The dog’s hips worked with single-minded animal focus, the thick base of his cock swelling, locking. Shammy’s hand found Mai’s thigh. Mai turned, silver hair brushing electric white, and the kiss they shared was quiet hunger. Clothes loosened between them. Fingers, then mouths. Shammy’s palm settled warm and grounding between Mai’s legs while Mai’s own hand slipped under the waistband of Shammy’s pants, coaxing the low static into something sharper. Their breathing synced to the wet, steady slap of flesh and fur behind them. Ace’s voice came thin, almost surprised. “Fuck—there.” The knot slipped in. Her back arched hard. A long, shuddering exhale left her as the dog stilled, tied deep, pulsing. She stayed there on all fours, trembling with each throb, violet fracture lines bright across her eyes. Mai laughed first—soft, breathless—while Shammy’s fingers kept moving inside her. “Look at her. She’s not coming down from that anytime soon.” Shammy’s electric-blue gaze lingered on the locked pair, the faintest smile curving her mouth. “Careful, Ace. You keep that up and we’ll have to explain the puppies.” Mai snorted, forehead resting against Shammy’s shoulder as another wave rolled through her. “Little violet-eared ones running around the apartment. Foundation would lose their minds.” Ace didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Only a low, satisfied hum escaped as the dog panted above her, hips twitching with aftershocks, the knot holding them fast. The three of them—four, counting the dog—rode the slow ebb together, air thick with shared heat and the quiet, impossible normalcy of it all. Shammy brushed damp silver hair from Mai’s face, voice low and warm with dry amusement. “Puppies,” she repeated, tasting the word. “We’d need a bigger place.” Ace’s shoulders shook once in silent laughter, still tied, still full, still exactly where she had chosen to be. n