The night was quiet, save for the soft rustle of silk against skin and the subtle hum of the city outside the mansion. Apollo leaned against the doorway, eyes glinting with mischief.
Nicholia: "If you want to fuck him… go ahead. Am I stopping you? No. So why drag me into this?"
Apollo's grin widened, predatory. "Oh, come on… one threesome won't hurt. Might even spice things up for you. Don't you get bored, Lia? Work, work, baby, baby… you don't even get to release your own desires. Are you… asexual?"
Nicholia's eyes narrowed, sharp as a blade. "One more word, and I'll throw you off the balcony."
Apollo raised his hands in mock surrender. "Oops. But really…" He stepped closer, voice lowering into a husky whisper. "It would be amazing… having both of us… at the same time."
He pressed a fleeting kiss to her lips, hot and deliberate, then left the room, leaving a lingering tension behind him. Nicholia's smirk deepened—Apollo knew exactly what he was doing, and it worked.
____
The night was thick with anticipation. Nicholia lay on the bed, her black silk nighty clinging to her lean figure, the soft moonlight accentuating the curves of her body. Her long wavy hair spilled across the pillow like liquid midnight. A smirk played on her lips as she watched the two men standing before her—Apollo, impossibly confident and dangerously charming, and Eros, tense but undeniably drawn to her.
Apollo was the first to close the distance, his lips claiming hers in a kiss that was both possessive and teasing. Nicholia's fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him closer, tasting the hunger that had been simmering between them for weeks.
Eros hesitated, a storm of restraint and desire in his eyes. But Apollo, with a sly smirk, leaned in and whispered, "She's yours too, if you want her."
Something shifted in Eros then. The hesitation melted into boldness as he brushed his lips against Nicholia's, soft and exploratory at first, then more demanding, matching the passion Apollo had already ignited. Nicholia's lips parted for him, giving permission without a word, as her hands roamed over both men, drawing them closer.
The three of them moved together like a dangerous dance—Apollo and Eros circling, teasing, drawing energy from Nicholia's daring smirk and fiery gaze. Nicholia traced patterns across their skin, leaving marks of her own—a silent claim.
"Careful," she purred, her voice low and teasing, "or I might take control of both of you."
Apollo chuckled, his fingers tangling in her hair. "You wouldn't dare."
"Oh, I would," she said, lips brushing his earlobe, eyes flicking to Eros with a smoldering challenge. "And you know I could."
She flipped Apollo and got on top of him, his length fully buried inside her, as Eros took her from the behind.
Even after both rammed her at the same time, Eros had a few more rounds with her, as Apollo watched them play, before ramming Nicolai and Eros.Unfortunately, in the heat of the passion Eros forgot about the condom before inserting into Lia.
The complicated desire was finally released from her. She wanted both of them. And the feeling was mutual from both of them.
After the intense rounds of thrusting. Three of them laid on the bed breathless.
And Nicholia, lying between them, only smiled—knowing that no one could command this storm but her.
__
Between duty and desire, both men served Nicholia in their own ways—attentive to her whims, responsive to her needs, yet secretly pulled into the dangerous game she orchestrated. Every glance, every word, every touch was a silent acknowledgment of the power she held over them.
Over time, Eros and Nicholia grew closer. Their nights together were no longer just a performance of loyalty—they became intimate and quiet, private. Nicholia, in those moments, let down the walls she had built around herself. They laughed softly in the dim glow of moonlight, exchanged gentle kisses, and held each other in the fragile warmth of trust and comfort.
It was during these nights, in that delicate balance of desire and devotion, that Nicholia conceived again—a child born not from obligation, but from love, from longing, from the quiet passion she allowed herself to feel. Apollo, ever pragmatic and precise, found himself quietly pleased. Another life, another future secured for the Brown legacy.
Eros, though, felt something deeper. He was completely entranced by her—the strength, the fire, the rare softness she allowed him to witness. In the quiet of those nights, he knew without doubt that he would give everything to protect her, to cherish her, and to follow wherever she led.
__
Nicholia was already five months into her second pregnancy. Both Apollo and Eros devoted themselves to her care, though it was Eros who spent the most time by her side—tending to her every need, anticipating her discomforts, and quietly ensuring she was never left vulnerable. The servants remained unaware of her condition, noticing only the subtle changes in her movements and demeanor, but not daring to question it.
A greater misfortune loomed on the horizon. An important overseas meeting called Apollo away, leaving Nicholia, Sage, and Eros behind. Nicholia felt a tightening in her chest at the thought of being alone without him—not for fear of her own safety, but because the world outside the mansion could be cruel and unrelenting. And she knew her father was the one who arranged this unsettled meeting overseas at this time.
Her mind turned to her father. Aron Brown. A man whose approval she had never truly sought, yet whose judgment weighed heavily over the family name. She had already married Eros in secret, a decision born of love and trust, but a truth she knew would never sit well with her father. Aron cared little for the heart, only for alliances, wealth, and legacy. Eros, handsome though he was, held nothing else that Aron would deem valuable. To the patriarch, he was useless—a man who could only give her a child, and nothing more.
Nicholia had no desire to face him in her current state—six months pregnant, exhausted, and vulnerable. She felt a quiet fire ignite inside her, a resolve to protect what mattered most: her sons, her love for Eros, and trust for Apollo and her own fragile sense of peace. Apollo departed for his meeting overseas, leaving the mansion in a tense silence that even Eros could not fully ease.
Every creak of the floorboards, every flutter of the curtains, felt like a reminder: the world outside was waiting, and she would have to survive it on her own terms.