Despite the fact that she’s named after a forest bird, Wren’s always felt a far greater affinity to the sea. So when she inherited the little summer cottage on the Jersey Shore from her grandmother, she decided to turn it into a permanent residence instead. ‘Cottage’ was a kind word for the place, at least before she’d begun the repairs. ‘Shack’ was a better descriptor, one little house in a long street filled with bungalows, with barely a postage stamp in the back to grow her herbs, and neighbors close enough that she can reach an arm out her kitchen window and touch the next building over.

But still. Beach.

She can feel the ocean in her bones as she sits on her porch, watching the sun set with a mug of tea in her hands and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. It sings, she thinks, a low, steady, whooshing hum that says ‘yes, I am here, and I can take you out again whenever I wish. But today, I am benevolent.’ It’s the night before Samhain and anything could happen. A sudden rainstorm would be nice, something to keep the local teens cooped indoors on Mischief Night. If it rains she won’t have to spend the next day picking toilet paper out of the one scrubby tree in front of her house like she did last year.

A beat up Jeep Wrangler pulls up across the street, coming to a stop with the uncomfortable sound of gears grinding and clanking as the engine is turned off.

“Dammit, Coop,” she sighs as two men get out of the car. “I thought you were going to get that shitbox fixed,” Wren calls out as the shorter of the two men waves at her.

Cooper, slightly stocky with shaggy blond hair and an impish grin across his lips, just shrugs his bag further up his shoulder and replies, “Trust me, it’ll hold. It’s in better shape than the van right now, in any case.”

“Do I want to know what you did?”

“No, you really don’t.”

The other man just shakes his head. “You shoulda heard the noises that thing was making on our way down from the city.”

Johnny looks good, Wren thinks, but then again he always does. Tall and muscular with a head of dark brown hair that most people would envy… and then there are people like her: short enough to be everyone’s armrest with boobs and a little bit of a stomach. At least her mousy brown hair has migrated towards more of an auburn color, though she will fully admit that’s because of dye and will happily direct anyone to the aisle in the drugstore where she picked up her box. Johnny looks a bit haunted though, with bags under his eyes and a drawn tightness to his shoulders that isn’t typical.

Wren glances over at Cooper, who gives the most subtle shake of his head. It’s enough to tell her, that he’s noticed Johnny’s demeanor too. That’s what happens when you’ve known each other since childhood, really. But Johnny obviously feels well enough to keep up with their usual Samhain tradition, the one that they started when they were old enough to break out on their own, of celebrating between the three of them and having their own ceremonies instead of joining the one with Wren’s family’s coven. It’s unorthodox, but that’s just the way that they do things.

However, magic itself is designed to break the rules, Wren knows, so whatever, they’ll do what they please. It works for them, and that’s what matters.

(She knows, rationally, that she should give the same level of thought to the relationship between the three friends. That despite numerous partners on all their parts over the last few years they always keep circling back to each other, a bond that’s impossible to shake. And, on top of that, that she compares everyone she meets to her two boys and they always come up lacking.

Nope. Not thinking about it. Not tonight.)

“Well, come on,” Wren says as she levers herself out of the deck chair and waves a hand at the glittery orange and black wreath hanging from her front door. “Celebrations await.”

* * *

Wren likes to think that the inside of the little cottage is a fair reflection of her personality, weather-worn white woods decorated with the herbs and crystals and beach debris that she finds help her focus when doing her spellwork. Cooper’s always given her sea glass wand a funny look, but then again most of his spellwork is done by stripping naked and running through the woods, so he’s got no leg to stand on with his arguments. He’s polite enough to keep a pair of boxer briefs on during their Samhain celebration, at least.

“Did you ever get the bed set up in the guest room?” Johnny asks, poking his head around the door of the living room to shoot Wren a look.

“Oh, shit,” she blurts out, startled, glancing wildly around the room. Johnny just gives her that arch look again, and she realizes that he’s already been by the guest room to drop his bags and seen that her herb drying table, her watercolor paints, and her weaving loom are still scattered around there. Okay, she fully admits that she may have a bit of a problem when it comes to keeping her attention on one hobby and one hobby alone. To be fair, though, when your day job is a payroll specialist to keep the bills paid, any hobby’s more interesting than that. Her true calling, the craft and spells to help make her one little corner of the world better, doesn’t exactly pay well, especially when she’s been known to work in trade for a tin of cookies. And considering that Mrs. G. has made some of the best biscotti she’s ever tasted, she’s happy to take that deal.

Johnny just nods, and glances back over his shoulder. “We’re on the couch again, Coop!”

“Aw, dammit.” There’s a noise from the narrow hallway, the sound of his bag being dropped somewhere, she suspects, followed by Cooper’s tousled head poking around the other side of the doorway. “Last time that couch almost ripped a hole in my leg.”

“It’s not that bad!” Wren protests.

“Yeah, and when was the last time you slept on it anyway? Your information is out of date.”

Wren crosses her arms over her chest, straightening up to try and look as intimidating as possible. “You sleep on an air mattress in a van for the better part of the year; your standards are warped!”

“Children, please,” Johnny says with a sigh, and the other two just stick their tongues out in his direction.

Cooper rolls his eyes. “You have slept on this couch too; you know full well how bad it is.”

“It’s not terrible,” Johnny concedes, heading over to push on the blue and white striped cushions of the couch like he’s field testing the softness of it.

“Yeah, you’re lying through your teeth.” Cooper follows him over to the couch and aims a light kick at the side of it. “I’ve got a list of reasons why this couch sucks. Number one …”

Wren just shakes her head. “I’m getting out the Sweet Dreams mix,” she calls over to them, waiting for their hasty nods of assent before they continue with their argument. In the kitchen she checks on the dinner she’s put together for her guests. Nothing fancy, just some stew that’s been bubbling away in the crock pot since that morning, but it’s warm and filling and perfect for a cold autumn night such as this one. She takes a spoonful of it to check the taste, adds a little extra sprinkle of salt, and then reaches for one of the special herb mixtures she keeps by her stove, the one that’s been mixed carefully with ingredients that will ensure sweet dreams throughout the night. Johnny looks like he could use it , she thinks as she measures out a few pinches with her fingertips and drops them into the stew, and it definitely wouldn’t hurt her or Cooper either.

It can stand a couple more minutes of cooking, however, so Wren turns back to the living room. She pauses in the doorway, however, when she sees Johnny standing there, shoulders drooped with his eyes on the floor. Cooper’s right there in front of him, one hand clamped on his upper arm, the other one cupping his face carefully. “Man, I know you’re suffering right now,” he says. “It’s written all over you. But you can’t hold this shit in; otherwise you’re going to explode.”

“‘M not suffering,” Johnny retorts, though going by the half-mumbled state of the words she’s not even sure that Johnny believes what he’s saying.

“Bullshit,” Wren calls out, leaning against the doorway and crossing her arms over her chest, trying to look as stern as she can. She’s known Johnny for well over twenty years now, knows his bad habit of keeping things in until they start to rot inside of him, and knows that unless he’s called out on it everything will stay bottled up. Hell, she should have known something was wrong given the fact that he’s got a nice showing of dark stubble on his jawline — ever since he was a teenager he’s hated the feel of the face fuzz.

Cooper looks up and gives a sharp nod. “Listen to her, Johnny,” he says, fingertips pressing into his face. “Start talking.” Then he steps away, waving a hand at the small fireplace on the far wall. “I’m going to go get some wood outside. It’s a good night for a fire. Keeps the bad vibes away.”

Once he’s out the door, heading towards the beach to pick up his spoils, Wren turns her full attention on Johnny. “What’s going on, babe?”

Johnny doesn’t answer, just moves over to the window to look out at the clouds that are practically aglow from the setting sun.

“Come on,” she continues after a few moments of silence pass. “It’s the new year coming up. Time to let the bad stuff go so you can bring in the new and the good.”

“Just a bad few days at work.” Johnny shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“But when you’re an EMT a bad few days at work is probably worse than a mere software fuck up?” Wren guesses.

“Understatement.” He sighs, bangs his head against the glass of the window. “I don’t want to go into detail. Not tonight. But it was a bad situation. I was being shot at while I was trying to work...and there were kids involved. One of them died right in the bus in front of me and we tried every damn thing …” Johnny runs his hands back through his hair, tugging hard enough that Wren can see the whites of his knuckles from across the room.

“Shit.”

“Again, understatement. That’s the job though... and you have to learn how to move on. Some days that’s harder to do than others.”

Wren shifts uncomfortably; high emotions have never been something she’s good at. “Look, Johnny, you can’t —”

Her words are cut off by a loud crash from outside, a great clattering noise followed by something heavy hitting the porch and Cooper’s voice exclaiming, “Goddamnit!”

Johnny and Wren trade a look, and then as one run for the porch.

* * *

“Well, you’re not concussed,” Johnny says with no small amount of mirth, examining the movement of Cooper’s pupils as the other man sits on the couch, a pout on his face and a bag of frozen peas icing down the new lump on his head from where he’d hit the porch. “Just a little dinged up.”

“I think my dignity has suffered more than anything else,” Cooper says, shifting the bag of peas around so he can glare at Wren, who’s giggling around a mouthful of stew.

“I mean, really, have you ever been dignified?” she asks.

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“Love you too, babe, but that doesn’t mean that dignity is your friend.”

Wren looks over at the fireplace, full of a gently crackling fire that she’d created with some of the driftwood laced with a few of her special herbs. The warmth and coziness permeates the room, and it gives her an idea. “You know what we need?”

“What?”

“A slumber party.”

Johnny’s look is puzzled, while Cooper’s can only be described as warily gleeful. “Seriously,” Wren continues, sitting up so she can look at them directly. “Bad movies, s’mores, and staying up really late in our sleeping bags. Or at least snuggling on the pull out couch.” It’s not much, not in the grand scheme of everything, but sometimes that little touch of nostalgia is just what they need. “And yes, I do have marshmallows.”

“I think we have some graham crackers in the Jeep too,” Johnny says thoughtfully, and Wren can tell he’s coming around to the idea. Johnny’s always been a fan of cuddles, even if he doesn’t like to admit it, admit how much he needs that physical contact when things get too stressful for him. And Wren knows full well a slumber party is pretty much the perfect excuse for that.

Cooper’s grin grows and he quickly turns to Johnny, who just shrugs. “Wren can get the full experience of just how terrible this couch is too,” he points out, making Wren wince.

“I walked right into that one, didn’t I? Anyway. We can watch really bad action movies and not have to think for the rest of the night. That way tomorrow when it’s time for the proper celebrations we’ll all feel well rested and in better moods. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

Johnny just shrugs again, and shakes his head with a wry grin. “Why not? Bring on the s’mores.”

* * *

Hours later, after far too many s’mores and the first two Mummy movies, as the sea softly crashes along outside, the three of them are fast asleep on the pull-out bed, curled up into a pile with Cooper safely between them, as if they’re still trying to protect him from mysterious and phantom concussions. But not everything’s as still as it should be. The bed shifts just enough to rouse Wren, and the sharp breathing is enough to tell her one of the boys is awake. She pries her eyes open blearily, blinking in the light of the muted television. The fire still crackles away merrily behind the grate, making it toasty warm in the room. Out of the corner of her eye she can see the stars faintly twinkling through the back windows of the cottage, but the warm, heavy weight against her front makes the night seem far, far away. Cooper’s sound asleep, his back to her chest, and one of her arms is wrapped around his shoulders, holding him close.

On the other side of Cooper Johnny’s sitting upright, one hand rubbing wearily at his face. And god, does he look worn and tired. Maybe he doesn’t want anyone else to notice, but in such close quarters it’s impossible to ignore that the job he’d been on before he’d arrived had affected him all too much. “Bad dreams?” she asks softly, trying not to startle him any more than he already has been. The Sweet Dreams mix isn’t working as well as she’d hoped for Johnny, but he’s always had a strange tolerance for magic, so she supposes she shouldn’t be surprised.

Johnny glances her way, face solemn but otherwise unreadable. Then he shakes his head, staring at the fireplace once more. “I just… can’t relax.”

Wren smiles grimly. She can’t say she’s been in exactly the same situation, but she knows Johnny and his reactions all too well. So she shuffles about until she’s propped up against the back of the couch, moving Cooper’s head so that it’s pillowed against her stomach. He must be exhausted too, she thinks, if he’s not waking up with all of her moving around. But he also must trust her enough to feel safe there, and that’s never something to take lightly. “Which in Johnny-speak means that you’re feeling guilty as all hell over things you can’t control – again, mind you – and you can’t rest because you can’t shut your brain up.”

Johnny shakes his head, grinning just slightly, and sits back next to Wren. Their sides brush together, and Johnny is careful to angle his legs so that they leave enough space for Cooper. “I’m not that bad.”

“Uh, you totally are.”

He huffs again, but doesn’t disagree with her. “I just wish there was more we could do, you know?”

“I do. But I also like to focus on the small victories, because it’s those small things that help make up life.” She runs a careful hand through Cooper’s hair, and looks up at Johnny. “I’m really glad you came home, too. You’re not invulnerable. And I …” Wren takes a deep breath, then shakes her head sharply. “Sorry.” She continues even as she feels Johnny’s hand land on her lower back. “I didn’t mean to unload on you. This is supposed to be a happy time, so the whole unloading thing probably isn’t helping.”

“Hey.” His palm rubs back and forth, and it’s warm even through her sweater. “It’s not whether you… help or not,” Johnny says. “Just being together? That helps more than you could know.”

“That, I can do.”

She feels more than hears Johnny sigh, and his head leans against hers. “Whatever this is, whatever the three of us have… it’s not usual, is it?”

Her breath freezes up in her lungs, just for a moment, because even with all of the strange things that make up her life she’s never thought that any one of them would actually bring up whatever bond they have among the three of them. Always the brave one, she thinks. “Nope,” Wren says. “But it works for us, so why screw with perfection?” Especially when it seems like trying to define things between them would just make things even more complicated. She turns her head, pressing her nose against his shoulder. The thought of moving away, of putting some distance between them doesn’t even occur to her. She’s warm and comfortable and safe; why the hell would she want to give that up? She glances upwards only to find Johnny staring down at her. Now, she really can’t place that look in his eyes, but it’s intent and directed right at her. “What?”

Johnny’s mouth opens once, then he snaps it back closed again with a quick nod. “I was always better with action than words,” he mumbles. And before Wren can even figure out what he means by that Johnny closes the small gap between them and kisses her firmly. Her mouth drops open and his tongue brushes against hers, which is the point when Wren’s brain pretty much cuts out on her and her eyes fall closed.

Can you be brave, little witch?

It’s one of those moments in time that stretches out wide in front of her, when what she does next will determine her future. And yet, the only thing she can bring herself to do — the only thing she wants to do — is to take that wild, flying leap and kiss Johnny right back. She sees what he means about action, because there’s no hesitance or lack of confidence in the way his mouth moves with hers. Wren knows that little moan she’s hearing is coming from her mouth, and her hand tightens in Cooper’s hair, keeping him close to her stomach. When Johnny’s hand slides over hers, then strokes down the side of Cooper’s face, it’s like all of the pieces that have been whirling around for ages finally click into place.

“Is this a thing we’re doin’ now?”

Wren starts to grin at that, and she can feel that Johnny’s mirroring her expression. They pull apart slowly and look down at Cooper, who’s staring up at them with what can only be called a shit-eating grin on his face. “What do you think we’re doing?” Wren asks.

“I think if you have to ask then Johnny’s not doing something right,” Cooper says.

Johnny shakes his head at that one. “How long you been awake?”

“Long enough to see you finally do what I think we’ve all been dancing around for a while.”

“Asshole,” Johnny huffs, though the affection is clear. Then, he cups Cooper’s cheek with the hand that’s still on his head, and leans down to kiss him also, firmly and deeply.

If it were any other two people involved Wren knows she’d probably be jealous, would want to rage against it. But these are her boys, right there with her, and watching them kiss like they are just fills her with affection.

And it turns her on. She’s not above admitting that, not at all.

“Hey, when’s it my turn?” she asks, tugging lightly on Cooper’s hair.

Johnny pulls back first, looking down at Cooper with an arched eyebrow. “Who am I to deny the lady what she wants?”

“Damn straight,” Wren says, leaning down and taking up where Johnny left off.

They kiss differently, she notes. They’re both confident in what they’re doing, but there’s an aggression in Cooper that isn’t there in Johnny. More experience possibly, she wonders, thinking of what he could have done during his wilder years wandering around the country in that busted-up van of his. Even if he doesn’t remember all of it clearly, because she knows Cooper well enough that he would have indulged in some mind-altering substances, his body might remember exactly what it’s accomplished. Muscle memory is a hard thing to shake. And when his tongue does that thing against her lower lip that makes Wren shiver pleasantly, it’s obvious he’s got skills. Johnny’s not hesitant, not by far, but there’s the feeling there that he’s not taking anything for granted, like he’s remembering the time when none of this came easily for him and he wants to make the absolute most of it now.

She’s breathing heavy by the time Cooper pulls away, like she’s just run a marathon through rugged territory. It’s all Wren can do to slump against the back of the couch, watching through suddenly hazy eyes as Cooper sits up and spins around to face them. This is huge, monumental even, and she feels like she needs to say something, anything to fill the room with a sound other than harsh breaths. They should probably talk about this – as right as everything is, words can only help.

But it looks like Cooper’s got thoughts of his own. He leans in close to Johnny, pointing at his neck. “You know, that thing right there, those birthmarks,” he says, trailing off and making Wren bite her lip as she waits for his next move.

“What about my birthmarks?”

“They’re kinda fascinating.” With that Cooper leans forward and presses his open mouth to Johnny’s neck, sucking hard enough that Wren can see it even from where she’s sitting. Johnny inhales sharply and his head falls back, giving Cooper more than enough room to work. Wren mentally debates whether she should join in the fun, because that stretch of skin is more than fascinating and she really wouldn’t mind getting her lips on it, when Cooper makes the decision for her.

His face is still buried in Johnny’s neck, but his right hand reaches out and wraps around Wren’s wrist. He pulls her forward, sending her up onto her knees, until he’s able to encircle her waist with his arm and bring her flush against the two of them. If that’s not explicit permission she doesn’t know what is.

She slides her hand down Cooper’s back, feeling the play of muscle underneath her fingertips and how smoothly it moves with every minute shift of his body. The other hand weaves through Johnny’s hair, lightly scratching her nails against his scalp, which results in a bitten off groan as he squirms against the two of them. When Cooper moves back up to kiss him again, Wren takes her own turn with Johnny’s neck.

She’s determined to leave her mark, even if the bruises will fade away sooner rather than later. He tastes… clean, like soap and sweat and skin. Wren can feel him swallow beneath her lips, and grins against his neck. While she does her free hand runs up Cooper’s arm, working its way up from the elbow and sliding under his sleeve to feel the muscle there, earned from all of the work he’s done in recent years for the forest service.

Not long after Cooper pulls away, breathing deeply as he sits back on his haunches and stares at the other two. “That was fun,” he says, smirking like he knows something the rest of them don’t.

Wren shoots him a look with as much suspicion as she can muster (her brain’s a little preoccupied at the moment for all good reasons). “He’s planning something,” she mutters, making the smirk just grow wider. But then she turns her face up to Johnny, changing the look to something wide-eyed and innocent even though all of them know that’s the last thing she is. “Aren’t we supposed to be taking care of Cooper?” she asks. “He may still have a head injury from his little trip before. We should be coddling him.”

Johnny nods, turning equally innocent and wide eyes back to Cooper. “I do believe that is the whole point of this slumber party.”

It’s a masterwork of movement, how Johnny gets Cooper pulled up flush against him, back to chest with just a few minimal actions. “This part of your plan?” Cooper asks, even though he’s not at all complaining about his current predicament.

“I think it’s a good one,” Wren says, moving down towards the end of the bed. She’s got her own thoughts on the plan; and she begins to play with the waistband of Cooper’s sweatpants. “Let us take care of you,” she says, face earnest and open. She’s got nothing to hide, and wants them to see everything she’s feeling in this moment.

Cooper’s still and thoughtful for a second, but then he nods, once, and reclines against Johnny’s chest. Johnny’s hands slide against his stomach, rucking up his shirt until they spread broad and warm on bare skin. Cooper’s eyes fall closed and Johnny presses a gentle kiss to his temple. Seeing that everything’s clear, Wren carefully pulls his sweatpants and boxers off, dropping them over the side of the bed.

She strokes her hands up his legs, feeling hair crinkle against her palms as she takes in the sight before her. Cooper’s bulkier than Johnny, compact and sleek muscles that seem to be just crouched and waiting to move. And obviously aroused, which is just what she was hoping for. Really, there’s no reason to hesitate at all. Wren stretches herself out, leaning down to nuzzle his cock and take in the scent of him.

Cooper gasps and surges upward, the only thing keeping him even remotely in place being Johnny’s firm grip. Wren smiles against his skin, flicking her eyes upward to take in Cooper’s heaving chest and Johnny’s glazed look. Before either one of them has a chance to recover she takes Cooper’s cock into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the tip.

“Shit,” Cooper hisses through clenched teeth, arching back into Johnny once more.

There’s power in this act, Wren thinks as she sucks and licks up and down his length. To be able to take someone apart with just her mouth and a few touches of her hands. Reduce them to tears or send them flying upwards into the heavens. And the knowledge that she wants to do this for him – for them – makes the feeling all the more potent.

She curls her hand around the base as she pulls away with a long, slow lick. Her hand moves up, thumb collecting the seeping liquid and smoothing it back into his skin. It’s this last move that makes Cooper grip the sheets so hard that she’s afraid he just may tear a hole in them.

Johnny’s managed to get both their shirts off by now. Wren’s a slight bit disappointed that she missed that, even though, to be fair, she has been focused on other, equally as fun, tasks. It’s entrancing to see them lounging there, skin to skin. Cooper looks tense and flush with arousal in the best way possible. And Johnny… Wren can’t quite define it, but there’s almost something hungry in his face. Before Wren can even think she blurts out, “Hey, Johnny, get down here.”

It takes his brain a second to catch up with her request, but when it does he carefully places Cooper down on the bed and moves to where Wren is kneeling between his legs. “You ever do this before?” she asks quietly, inquisitively, as she pumps her hand up and down Cooper’s cock.

The grin Johnny gives her is positively filthy, making her insides clench up. “I’m a quick learner,” he says, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “I think I can figure it out.” His hand enfolds hers, joining in the stroking.

“Oh, fuck,” Cooper spits out, fading off into a moan. His back’s bowed off the bed now, thrusting his hips into their combined grip. All Johnny does in response is bend over and take Cooper’s cock between his lips, sucking lightly and brushing against Wren’s hand in the process.

And if Wren thought she was turned on before, that feeling pales to what’s rushing through her veins right now. Suddenly it’s like her shirt is stifling her, like she can’t stand the feel of the fabric on her skin anymore, or it’s going to choke her. She pulls her arms out of her sweater and yanks both it and the tank top over her head. Wren’s thankful she got rid of the bra earlier in the night as she tosses them aside. Exhaling with relief, the warmth of the fireplace begins to soak into her bare skin. Everything is overly sensitive for her, the prickles of the distant fire, the way her tangled hair brushes against her shoulders, the way Cooper’s gaze practically burns into her as they land on her newly bared breasts.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he says, raking his eyes over her figure. Then he looks over to where Johnny is still sucking him down like there’s no tomorrow, cheeks hollowing out with every bob of his head. “Him, too.”

Johnny pauses in his motions to look up at him, eyes sparking with some hidden mirth. He squeezes the base of his cock once, firmly, which makes Cooper’s hips reflexively jerk once more. His head falls back against the couch cushions, and all Wren can think is she wants to see him come apart at the seams. So she leans down to join Johnny in his attentions, nudging her nose against his lips.

It takes a second for Johnny to cotton onto what she’s thinking, but once he does he readjusts, switching to fingers and tongue and granting space for Wren’s tongue to join in the fun. And god, it is unlike anything else she’s experienced in her entire life. Cooper’s solid and firm under her tongue, salt and skin filling up her senses. Every few passes her tongue brushes up against Johnny’s tongue, flexible and wicked (and my god what would that feel like on her?), collecting more of the precome and spreading it out over Cooper’s overly sensitive skin. Johnny’s large hand spreads out over his pelvis, keeping his hips firmly down on the bed so that they don’t distract the other two from what they’re doing. Wren can’t help but run a hand over Johnny’s bare back, feeling how his muscles flex and stretch with the smallest movements, and vaguely wonders just where this sudden obsession with their backs came from.

The thought of what either of their backs would look like between her legs, calves propped on strong shoulders, is an appealing one and must be explored further. Soon, she hopes.

It doesn’t take long of this at all before Cooper comes with a shout and a string of profanity, spilling over hands and skin and warm mouths. When he’s finished, they clean him up with tongues and lips, removing every trace of fluid.

Johnny pulls away first, eyes wild, hair mussed, and bare chest heaving like he can’t quite get his breathing under control. He’s got to be aching, Wren thinks from where her head is pillowed on Cooper’s hip, and it’s all too clear that Johnny’s about to bust out of his jeans, cock straining against the thick denim fabric. Goddamn, is it a good look for him. But there’s something…

There’s a little bit of Cooper’s come smeared across Johnny’s lower lip, pearly white against lush pink. And there’s no way in hell Wren can pass up that tempting offer.

She pushes herself to her knees and reaches out, taking Johnny’s head in her hands and pulling him over. Wren glides her tongue against his lower lip, picking up the droplets with a decadent groan. Johnny’s hands fold around her hips and pull them into his, his cock pressing against her insistently.

A slight groan, so slight it’s barely heard, from Cooper pulls them out of it. Johnny looks over his way, then huffs lightly. “I think we broke him,” he mutters, nudging Wren to take a look as well. She can’t disagree with this assessment as Cooper looks glazed, dazed, exhausted, fucked out, and more than pleased. “You okay, Coop?” he calls out, smirking.

Cooper just raises his arm, waves it limply, and lets it fall to the bed again.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Wren says. She turns back to Johnny, fingers playing with his belt buckle. She can feel the heat coming off of him, and she soaks it in, warming her to the core. “How about you?” She smiles up at him, running her fingertips over the hard bulge in his pants. “I think it’s your turn next.”

Johnny hums thoughtfully, rubbing his hands up her sides. “Maybe,” he says. “But I think you’re forgetting one thing.”

Without warning Wren finds herself in the air; the next second she’s on her back resting on the cushions next to Cooper. “We take care of each other,” Johnny finishes, looming over her. He bends down then, giving her a kiss that’s forceful and strong and makes her brain fly right out the window.

If it was anyone else, she’d be embarrassed about how quickly their pants and underwear come off. But this is Johnny between her legs and Cooper’s a warm presence up against her left side and really, they’ve been headed toward this for ages now. Fast is the last word that would apply to their relationship. And the feeling of being surrounded by all that warm skin, on top of her and next to her, is an intoxicating one. So Wren pulls Johnny closer and wiggles nearer to the still mellowed out Cooper. She digs her nails into Johnny’s shoulders and rubs her slit against his cock, knowing that it would only take the simplest of moves for him to slide right inside her.

But instead Johnny pulls away, gathering what threads of sense he has left together. “Condom,” he says, kind of breathlessly.

“What?” Wren asks, not quite following his line of thought.

“We need a condom before we start,” Johnny says.

“Ohhh. D’you have one?”

Johnny shakes his head. “No. You?”

Wren shakes her head no also, and shrugs as much as she can from her prone position. “I didn’t invite you guys over with the intent of getting laid; I’m not exactly prepared.” She declines to mention the dry spell she’s had lately as further explanations for the lack of birth control in the house. Whatever’s happened in the past has no relevance as to what’s happening now.

“Shit.”

Cooper groans next to them, and reaches out to smack Johnny on the shoulder. “M’wallet’s on the counter; there’s one in there. Don’t waste it.”

“Yeah.” With that, Johnny rolls off the bed and runs for the kitchen, leaving Wren to snuggle into Cooper’s side for warmth. She’s not sure if she’s got a lingering chill in her bones, but she suspects that she’s just using it as an excuse. Naked cuddles are even more fun than sleepover cuddles, Wren has learned.

“That was awfully noble of you,” she says, idly listening to the sounds of Johnny mucking about in the kitchen.

Cooper just snorts and looks down at himself with a wry glance. “I’m pretty sure you guys sucked my brain out before, Wren. I ain’t going anywhere right now.” He shrugs, and looks over at her with a wicked grin. “’Sides, I can be patient if I have to. There’s a drugstore a few blocks away; tomorrow we can stock up on condoms and lube. Lots of lube. Makes for an even better Samhain that way. Honor the dead by living fully.”

Wren waggles her eyebrows at him. “You know the mechanics of sex with another man, I presume?”

“I have had a variety of experiences throughout the years, and that’s all I’m willing to say at this time.”

“So that’s a yes, then.”

Cooper twists to the side, sinking his teeth into her earlobe and making her eyes flutter shut. “Just think of all the different ways the three of us can fit together,” he says, right into her ear.

The moan she lets out is loud enough to be heard throughout the entire house, and Wren’s almost certain it’s the siren’s call that lures Johnny back to the bed, condom packet in hand. He pauses at the end of the bed, looking down at the other two and obviously thinking something, but Wren can’t tell what. He gives Cooper a crisp nod though, and she can feel him grin against her ear.

“All right, what are you two do –” Her words are cut off when Cooper twists her slightly in place, rearranging her so that her back’s flush against his front. His hand sweeps up and covers her left breast, cool enough to make her skin tingle and her nipple tighten under his touch. “Mmm, okay,” she sighs, settling back against him and letting her eyes fall shut.

She can feel Johnny crawl back onto the bed and hover over her and Cooper. She hears the boys kiss, right by her ear. Their guttural groans practically echo into Wren’s skin, and make her squirm in Cooper’s grip. Then lips are on hers – Johnny’s again – and she twines her arms around his neck. Still kissing, Johnny shifts back in front of her, skin sliding along hers. Wren presses herself even closer, relishing the way he feels against her and how the solid presence of Cooper behind her makes her feel fully surrounded. Even if she had wanted to, which she doesn’t, she’s unable to move anywhere and that’s perfectly fine with her.

Two sets of hands sweep all over her body, stroking and gliding until Wren isn’t even sure which way is up anymore. There’s a small crinkling noise – the sound of the condom packet opening, her dazed brain registers. She opens her eyes slowly only to find Johnny’s face a scant few inches away from hers, pupils blown wide and lips slick.

“You ready?” he asks, hiking her leg over his hip. It’s all too easy to feel how turned on he is this way, hard cock brushing against her slick lips though not sliding inside, not yet. He’s waiting for her, she realizes dazedly.

“Yeah,” Wren replies, nudging her nose against Johnny’s just because she can. When he slides fully inside she muffles her gasp against his jaw, the stubble tickling her lips just so. She feels… full, in the best way possible. Johnny’s a stretch but there’s a rightness there, like he was designed to work perfectly with her. She wonders if Cooper’s the same way; and thinks that she’s going to have to do a compare/contrast thing in the morning.

Wren’s practically ready to fly out of her skin, almost too much for her body to handle, but their hands ground her. Cooper’s spanning her waist and Johnny’s stroking up and down the leg wrapped around him, keeping her there with them. She smiles softly, her lips spreading against Johnny’s skin, and she rakes her nails down his back. He hisses softly and gives her an arch look, deliberately thrusting inside her in retaliation.

“That how it’s going to be?” Wren asks, attempting and failing to hold back the grin.

When Johnny begins moving in earnest inside her as his response, it’s all Wren can do to hold on for the ride. He fucks with the same steady and sure movements as his kisses, hard enough to make the heat build in her blood with every stroke. Sweat smears between her back and Cooper’s chest; the warmth of three bodies in concert just adds to the burn. She writhes in their arms as the thrusting and stroking persist, shoulders against Cooper and breasts against Johnny, and she moans, helplessly.

And when Cooper’s hand slides down between her and Johnny, burning warm against her clit and his cock, Wren’s all but ready to shoot off into space, stars bursting in her head as she feels a rush of magic race through her body.

“Coop,” she mumbles, twisting her head and pushing back against him. She’s got an idea and wants to make it happen, as long as she can get the words out right. “Can you...ugh, yes, right there. Cooper, move to Johnny’s back? I wanna make him see stars,” she finishes on a moan.

Cooper presses his open mouth to her bare shoulder, licking a path up to her neck. “You got it, babe,” he murmurs against her skin. He slides away from her back and levers himself over the two of them, warm skin slip-sliding against theirs as he settles behind Johnny, who’s slowed down his thrusts as he watches the proceedings with interest, head curving as he watches Cooper get settled in.

“What are you doing?” Johnny asks as Cooper’s hand weaves through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp.

“Never you mind,” Cooper replies, his other hand tracing over some of the freckles on Johnny’s shoulder. It’s a careful, almost delicate movement, and Wren can see how it makes Johnny’s eyes flutter and his pulse jump in his neck. “It’ll feel good, I promise. Just get back to work and make sure our girl gets happy over there.”

“Works for me.” Johnny turns his attention back to Wren, hiking her leg higher on his hip so that he’s got more room to move. She bites back a whimper as he moves inside of her even more firmly than before. It’s different, and new, unlike anything else she’s ever felt before. She’s had sex, and good sex at that, but when she sees her boys staring at her, that brand new energy rushes through her body.

Cooper’s mossy green eyes twinkle at her as they peer over Johnny’s shoulder, and he flexes his fingers against Johnny’s head once more. Wren can see the tiny little sparks of magic dance around his fingertips, glowing lightly in Johnny’s dark hair. She can feel the magic too, spreading through where their skin touches, a building fire that swirls and gains energy inside of her, and she gasps lowly. “Oh, my god,” she breathes out.

And if she feels this intense from secondhand contact, she can only imagine how Johnny is feeling. Wren braces her hand on his back, feeling the shudders that run through his skin. “What the …” he begins, but he’s unable to finish the thought as he tips his head back into Cooper’s hand and groans aloud.

“Just feel,” Cooper murmurs, his hands dancing over Johnny’s skin. Wren wants to stay focused, to see the look on Johnny’s face as he feels the magic racing through him, but she can barely hold it together herself. The magic, that energy, is absolutely everywhere, floating in and around and through her, and all she can do is grab her boys and hold on tight as the energy explodes inside of her.

* * *

The fire’s burned down to embers by this point, only dimly lighting the small living room. It’s still wonderfully warm within, however, although Wren can’t help but wonder if that’s some lingering after effects from the sex. The three of them are laid out in a row, Cooper on one edge of the bed exhaling a stream of vape smoke, Wren on the other with her hands splayed out over her bare stomach, and Johnny in between the two of them staring up at the beams crisscrossing the ceiling.

“Is that how the magic always is?” Johnny asks, softly, calmly. “That was...something else.”

Cooper exhales around a laugh, a pull of smoke lazily curling its way up towards the ceiling. “That’s a good way to put it. Magic often has a mind of its own.”

Wren rolls her head over to look at her boys next to her, resisting the urge to reach across Johnny and whack Cooper one. “Don’t confuse him, Coop,” she says instead. “But yeah, something else is a good term for...whatever that was. That was different, and more powerful than I’ve ever felt before. It didn’t feel bad...actually, it felt really good, when I think about it. But different.” The words aren’t great, she’s usually far more eloquent than that, but it’s all she can come up with while her brain gathers its wits back together.

“Magic is always affected by the people involved,” Cooper says, meeting her eyes across the expanse of Johnny’s chest. “What I can do on my own will almost always be different than what I can do with the two of you involved.”

“‘By the power of three times three, make them see, make them see,’” Wren murmurs, settling back in the pillows because really, she could fall asleep at any moment now.

But Johnny looks over at her then, one eyebrow arched suspiciously. “Why are you quoting The Craft , of all things?” he asks.

“Why do you recognize that I’m quoting The Craft is a better question,” she fires back.

“I’ve known you for how many years now? I’ve picked up a few things along the way.”

* * *

When Wren wakes up, she’s alone in the bed. It’s not all that surprising, she’s always been a fan of a good lie in and is usually the last one up. But it would have been nice to wake up in someone’s arms, she thinks. She can’t dwell on it, though, not until she’s got a better handle on how things are going this morning. They left things off on a good note the night before, but they fell asleep far too quickly and didn’t have the chance to talk about anything.

She doesn’t know if she can take it if things go back to how they were before. Not after everything they shared.

Wren finds her clothes on the floor, pulls her pajama pants and sweater back on. The smell of coffee wafts out of the kitchen, and she decides to head over that way. A little caffeine always makes everything clearer. She’s halfway through her first mug, leaning on the counter by the machine because she can’t be bothered to move any further away from the precious drink, when there’s a smattering of footsteps from the hallway. A moment later Johnny appears, wearing sweatpants and a henley, looking freshly scrubbed.

“Morning,” she calls out, still feeling more asleep than not. Ugh, magic hangovers are the worst. That’s the only way she can think to describe this feeling right now.

“Good morning,” Johnny says, smiling brightly at her. He comes over to grab his own coffee, brushing up against her like there’s no sense of personal space there whatsoever. This is probably a good sign, Wren thinks.

“Sleep well?” she asks as he preps his drink, sipping delicately at her own mug.

Johnny nods, looking over at her. “Better than I have in a long time.”

“Good.”

She should say something. It’s not totally awkward in there, but silence has always unnerved Wren to a certain degree and if there was ever a good time for words to come forth, this would be it.

Or, she could take a cue from Johnny and just act. Worse comes to worse she’ll at least know where she stands when she’s done.

Be brave, little witch child.

“Hey,” Wren reaches out and tugs on the bottom of his shirt to pull him closer.

“Yeah?”

When Johnny’s close enough, Wren goes up on her tiptoes and kisses him softly. It doesn’t have the out of control passion that was there the night before, but there’s something equally as potent in the quietness of it. She feels him smile against her lips, the press of the rim of the coffee cup he’s still holding through her sweater, and thinks that there’s something delightfully domestic about the whole thing.

“Mmm,” Johnny says once she pulls away. “A guy could get used to that.”

“Me too.” Then Wren looks around the kitchen, a thought suddenly occurring to her. “Wait, where’s Cooper? I was expecting to hear some snark there.”

“He’s outside on the porch enjoying the sunshine. Why don’t you go join him and I’ll get him a cup of coffee?” Johnny suggests, turning back to the cabinets and pulling another mug out.

Wren nods. “I like that idea,” she says. She stops by the couch to grab a blanket and wrap it around her shoulders (she likes the snuggly feeling) before heading outside into the daylight.
The porch is small, but there’s enough room to fit a bench out there along with her lounger, just to the right of the front door. Cooper’s sitting on the bench in his pajamas, bare feet propped up on the wooden railing, his vape dangling from one hand. But then she spots something else out on the sidewalk, thick garlands of toilet paper decorating the young trees all up and down the block. “Dammit.”

“Blessed Samhain,” Cooper says, raising the vape in one hand in a sloppy salute.

“Blessed Samhain,” Wren replies as she slides onto the bench next to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. She curls up and pulls the blanket tighter around her, although she’s sure to keep her coffee at easy access.

Cooper grins at her and takes one last pull from his vape. “Looks like someone finally decided to join the rest of the waking world.”

“It’s not that late,” Wren retorts, nudging him with her shoulder. “Besides, neither of you look all that awake either.”

“Had a busy night last night, you know. Wore me out,” he says, the grin sliding over into an utterly shit-eating one.

“I will take that in the complimentary spirit that it’s intended,” Wren fires back, sticking her tongue out at him. Cooper just snorts and pulls her in for a proper good morning kiss.

The door creaks open and Johnny steps out onto the porch, two mugs in his hand. One’s handed off to Cooper, who proceeds to knock back a good slug immediately while Johnny settles himself on the bench on the other side of Wren. It’s a tight squeeze on the bench, and Wren has the passing thought that she hopes their combined weight won’t send the whole thing crashing to the ground.

The three of them sit out there for a while, watching the occasional car pass by on the street and just taking in the crisp, autumn morning. This is the good type of silence that’s not really silent at all. There’s the wind that rushes around the house, the sound of the ocean off in the distance, the light breathing of the three of them, the caw of a loud-mouthed gull, the small occasional clinks of the coffee mugs.

“We probably should talk,” Johnny eventually says, eyes still focused off in the distance.

“Probably,” Wren agrees, nodding.

Cooper shrugs. “I don’t think it needs to be that complicated.”

Almost as one, Johnny and Wren turn to look at him. “Elaborate, please,” Wren says, bringing Cooper’s full attention over to them.

“As long as we’re open and honest with each other – none of that stoic bullshit that you usually pull, Johnny, where you need to act like everything’s just fucking peachy.”

Wren can tell Johnny’s about to object, probably out of habit more than anything else at this point. She jabs him with her elbow, cutting off any words before they even slip out of his mouth. The sly smile Cooper gives her says that he knows the feeling.

“Yeah, well, same goes for you, Coop,” Johnny says. “If something bothers you, you speak up about it. This won’t work if we stay quiet.”

She nods, and sips at her coffee as she sits back on the bench once more. “It won’t be easy,” Wren says, “but it doesn’t have to be complicated.”

“And I don’t think any of us have ever been scared of a little hard work.” Cooper raises his coffee mug in a toast. “Here’s to hard work.”

“And new adventures.”

“And happy endings.”

They clink the mugs together, and it really does feel like something’s solidified, like all of the parts are finally right where they belong, Wren thinks.

Cooper breaks first, chuckling under his breath as he shakes his head. “Get over here,” he says to Johnny, reaching over Wren’s head to cup the back of his neck and pull him close.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Johnny replies, just before their lips meet.

Wren quite enjoys being right in between the two of them and getting an up-close and personal view of the entire thing.

“Your turn,” Cooper continues, moving away from Johnny and bending down to plant one on her as well. Johnny’s hand weaves through her hair, and there’s this lovely feeling of connection that settles in her bones and just makes her happy.

When it’s Johnny’s turn to steal a kiss, Wren can hear Cooper say right next to her, “Now, I mentioned something last night about finding a drugstore,” which makes her laugh long and loud against Johnny’s smile.

* * *

Miranda Deacon lives in Brooklyn with her feline companion. She’s giving this writing thing a bit of a go. Find her online at her Tumblr or her Facebook page.