Their Wonder Years: Season 1: Fall 1998
Copyright© 2025 by Tantrayaan
31: Operation Rivera Uprising
Coming of Age Sex Story: 31: Operation Rivera Uprising - Bharath always thought going to America would mean fast love, wild parties, and maybe a stewardess or two. What he got instead? A busted duffel bag, a crying baby on the plane, and dormmates he never thought could exist in real life. Thrown into the chaos of Georgia Tech’s freshman year, Bharath begins an unforgettable journey of awkward first crushes and culture shocks. A slow-burn, emotionally rich harem romance set in the nostalgic 90s—full of laughter, lust, and longing.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft mt/Fa Consensual Fiction Humor School Sharing Group Sex Harem Orgy Polygamy/Polyamory White Female Hispanic Female Indian Female
Dear Reader,
It’s been a wild and wonderful couple of months since I started releasing this story. I began writing earlier this year because I wanted the kind of haremlit I wasn’t seeing anywhere else - and sharing it with you has been a joy.
If you’ve enjoyed the journey so far, I’d love to hear from you. Comments and feedback really help shape future chapters.
I’m also working on Betal, a darker, mythological haremlit series. Would love your thoughts on that too.
– Tantrayaan
The kitchen at Sarah’s house was alive with the warmth of fresh bagels, cinnamon coffee, and wicked satisfaction.
Bharath had barely left for the gym fifteen minutes ago, still flushed and dazed from what the girls had put him through. His last words before stumbling out the door were a muttered, “I need cold water ... and divine intervention.”
Marisol was already spinning the landline cord between her fingers, grin curling like a secret.
Sarah stood at the counter, licking cream cheese from her thumb. “You think she’s awake?”
“She better be,” Marisol said. “We owe her a report.”
The phone rang.
Once. Twice.
Then: “Hello?”
Mia’s voice was soft, sleep-husky and wary.
“Buenos días, hermana,” Marisol purred, already smirking.
“Oh my god,” Mia murmured. “Is everything okay?”
Sarah leaned closer to the phone. “Everything is delicious. And you? You were the star of the show last night.”
A pause.
“ ... Wait-what?”
Marisol let out a low laugh. “Let me paint you a picture. Bharath’s on the bed, hands gripping our hips like a dying man. He’s thrusting into me so deep I’m seeing stars-when Sarah whispers in his ear, ’She looked so innocent curled up in that chair ... but we know what she did the night before last, don’t we?’”
Sarah’s voice joined in, sultry and amused. “And he froze. Like the memory sucker-punched him.”
“Oh my god,” Mia whispered.
“I told him,” Sarah continued, “’She was grinding on your lap in those tiny little shorts ... that oversized t-shirt so low that we could practically see her entire chest bouncing with every move... ‘”
Marisol added, voice thick with glee, “’She felt you under her, didn’t she? That thick cock of yours? Did you know she looked you right in the eye and smiled like she knew exactly what she was doing?’”
Mia made a strangled sound-half-gasp, half-moan.
“And he snapped,” Marisol laughed. “Started fucking us like he was possessed. We’re still walking a little funny from the pounding he gave us.”
Sarah whispered, “He tried to fight it. He kept saying, ‘She’s your sister, I can’t, I won’t... ‘ But his body? Baby girl, his body wanted to ravage you.”
Marisol caught Sarah’s eye, a flicker of guilt passing between them. It wasn’t that they liked seeing him so torn. But ... maybe they did like watching his restraint unravel. Not because they wanted him to suffer ... but because they knew he was fighting a war he’d already lost. He just hadn’t admitted it yet.
“He kept looking at me like he wanted to be punished,” Marisol added. “Like thinking of you made him dirty-and he liked it.”
“Especially when I said,” Sarah purred, “’What if we invited her in next time? What if you woke up with her between your legs? What if it was her boobs around your cock.’”
Mia whimpered audibly. “Stop ... I can’t...”
“You can,” Marisol said sweetly. “Because we already have. You’re part of us now.”
“We teased him with you because we know how he looks at you when he thinks we’re not watching,” Sarah added. “Because you’re not just temptation.”
“You’re ours,” Marisol said.
“In mind and spirit. And soon in body as well,” Sarah echoed.
“He doesn’t want to betray us,” Sarah added, her voice gentler now. “But there’s nothing to betray. We’ve already chosen you, Mia. He just has to stop punishing himself for what’s already true.”
“We know you think this is just about seduction,” Sarah said softly, her tone shifting for a moment. “But it’s not.”
“You belong to him too,” Marisol added. “You just don’t know how completely yet.”
“And he’s already ours. Heart, body, soul,” Sarah said. “But you? You’re not just some side fantasy. You’re part of this. You’re part of us.”
“He’s trying so hard to be noble,” Marisol whispered, her voice thick with mischief and something deeper. “But even when he’s fighting it, his heart is leaning toward you.”
“It’s okay,” Sarah added, her voice warm. “We’ll help him stop fighting it.”
A beat.
Then Mia’s voice returned, trembling and full of heat. “I was so close to slipping into your room that night. After the movie. After ... everything.”
“We know,” Marisol said. “That’s why we brought it up. He still hasn’t recovered.”
“I want to make it real,” Mia whispered.
“Soon, baby,” Sarah said. “He’s already half-broken. He just needs a little push.”
“And when he finally gives in?” Marisol added. “He’s going to make you scream. I hope you are ready, hermana.”
The phone clicked softly.
And on the other end of the line, Mia lay still.
The cordless phone was still warm against her chest.
Mia’s thighs were pressed tight together as rubbed herself, her breath shaky, her skin prickling with remembered need. Her nipples ached against the cotton of her tank, her hips trembling under the blanket.
They had talked about her.
During sex.
They had said her name while Bharath was inside them-while his body rocked with fevered thrusts, while his hands gripped Marisol’s hips like they were his anchor to sanity, while Sarah gasped in his ear about her-Mia-kneeling between his legs, taking him in her mouth like she was born to serve. Waking him up with her breasts around his cock, jerking him off on her and trying to swallow his spend when he finally erupted.
Her heart pounded.
She had teased him the night before last. She knew what she was doing.
She’d worn those shorts on purpose. Tiny, tight, barely-there. She’d crawled into his lap during the movie like it was harmless fun, the hem of her oversized tee displaying her spectacular breasts to him with each movement, making him feel the curve of her ass, the full bounce of her breasts through that paper-thin cotton. She’d felt it under her-the hard, thick, throbbing shape of his cock pressing up against her with every grind.
He hadn’t touched her.
But he had wanted to.
And now?
Now he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Neither could she.
Her breath caught in her throat as her mind wandered-what would that cock feel like inside her? Stretching her slowly, claiming every trembling inch of her untouched body? Would she cry out the way Marisol does, clutching the sheets and begging him not to stop? Would she shatter like Sarah, her back arching off the mattress as she wailed his name?
She wanted to find out.
God, she needed to.
She was a virgin - but the idea of Bharath taking her, ravaging her, made her stomach flip and her core clench. She remembered the marks he left on Sarah’s breasts - those flushed bites and swollen bruises of love. The way Marisol walked funny after that night together, hips sore from being held too tight, thighs shimmering with his praise.
Mia wanted those marks too.
She had thought she could wait. She had told herself she would.
But now? Now she was desperate.
Her fingers twitched under the blanket. Her lips parted as she exhaled a shaky breath. Her body buzzed with the ache of it-of being left behind while they got to feel him, while they got to live her fantasy.
She wasn’t just waiting anymore. She was starving.
And when the time came?
She wouldn’t just say yes.
She’d beg. She’d offer herself to him, trembling and eager, and let him take her.
Let him ruin her. Let him make her his. Mia squealed as she finally climaxed hard thinking about finally becoming Bharath’s girl.
Something had changed over the past few months.
And everyone at Mia’s high school knew it.
It wasn’t the kind of change you could chalk up to a haircut or a breakup. No - this was deeper. Invisible but unmistakable. Like the Queen Bee of the hive had suddenly flown off course and left everyone else scrambling to realign.
Mia Rivera had gone rogue.
And the student body? They were confused as hell.
“Is she sick?” someone whispered by the lockers near the gym.
“She hasn’t been to a single pep rally,” one of the JV cheerleaders said, incredulous.
“No, no - she’s studying,” another added with the wide eyes of someone discussing a mythical creature. “Like, actually studying. I saw her reading a physics textbook during lunch.”
There was a collective gasp.
“She actually goes after school for calculus tutoring,” someone else chimed in. “Said she was ‘trying to get a jump on her Georgia Tech applications.’”
“Wait - Georgia Tech?” a confused sophomore asked. “Isn’t that, like ... for nerdy math people?”
Everyone was speechless. A girl as gorgeous as Mia didn’t need math.
Mia was still the center of every hallway crush. The dream date for prom. The one who could pull off butterfly clips, tinted lip gloss, and low-rise jeans and still outflip anyone on the cheer squad.
Now?
She barely spoke in the locker room. Always had a spiral notebook on her. Took her Discman out only for study breaks. There was a rumor she’d started keeping a planner.
“I asked her if she was coming to the prom dress fitting,” a popular junior named Kelsey said during homeroom. “She blinked like I’d just asked her about taxes.”
And the jocks?
They were devastated.
“Dude, I’ve tried calling her at least twice a week for the past month. But she doesn’t give me the time of the day,” Caleb muttered to his friends in the cafeteria. He looked every bit the varsity golden boy - strong jaw, sun-bleached curls, letterman jacket unzipped just enough to show off his chest. Girls still whispered his name in biology class like it was a prayer.
But the girl he used to take to Taco Bell in his Jeep Cherokee after games?
She didn’t even answer his calls anymore.
“She’s avoiding me,” he said, shaking his head. “What the hell happened?”
“She’s probably mad you went to homecoming with Alyssa,” his buddy offered.
“That was a favor to Alyssa,” Caleb said. “She cried in front of her mom. Mia and I were chill.”
“You were chill until she stopped being chill,” another quipped.
The group went quiet.
And then someone, cautiously, asked: “Wait. Is she, like ... gay now?”
“No way,” said Ryan, another football player. “Even all the lesbians are confused. She told them she’s not into girls. Anyways, she’s had more boyfriends than anyone in just the first month of this year.”
“Yeah, but think about it,” one of the sophomore girls added. “Now she’s always with that older sister of hers. And those Georgia Tech girls. And you’ve seen them. They’re like ... Smart, mysterious. Probably into weird spiritual stuff.”
Someone else muttered: “I bet it’s a cult.”
“Maybe it’s a Rivera thing,” someone else added, lowering their voice. “Her sister Marisol used to be like that. Cold. Untouchable. Like an ice princess. She made the football players cry when she used to turn them down in front of everyone. No one could get to her either. It’s like they’re too good for the rest of us.”
Meanwhile, Mia?
She just kept glowing.
Her skin was clearer. Her clothes had gone from provocative to polished. Still stylish, still stunning, but with a different kind of intent - as if she was dressing for her future now. Not the hallway.
She didn’t walk like she needed to be seen anymore.
She walked like she already knew where she was going.
And she smiled - a lot. To herself, mostly. A quiet, secretive kind of smile.
“Why is she so happy?” another cheerleader murmured in the girls’ bathroom. “She doesn’t do anything fun anymore.”
“She studies, ” someone else said.
“She’s not even going to Prom,” Kelsey said, reapplying her lipstick. “She told the committee she had ‘other priorities.’”
“Like what?”
“SAT scores?”
A beat.
And then: “What if she’s in love?”
The only people not panicking about Mia’s transformation?
Her teachers.
“Honestly,” Mr. Thompson, her physics teacher, told the faculty during lunch break, “I don’t know what happened to that girl over summer, but I want more of it. It’s like she got struck by lightning and suddenly cares.”
“She went from coasting to crushing it,” said Mr. Alvarez, her AP Calculus instructor. “Two weeks ago, she solved a proof even I would have struggled with.”
“I had to double-check her quiz answers,” another added. “She’s not just getting things right. She’s mastering them.”
Mr. Doyle, the school counselor, laughed. “If whatever lit a fire under her is contagious, let’s bottle it and give it to the entire senior and junior class.”
“She said something about Georgia Tech,” Mrs. Clarke continued. “Wanted to know how soon she could apply. I told her she might even be able to test out of a semester at this rate.”
“She’s still doing cheerleading, right?”
“Dropped it,” someone said. “Said she needed the afternoons for calculus tutoring and ‘project work.’”
There was a pause.
Then Mr. Thompson added, “I heard her sister goes to Georgia Tech. That might explain the ambition.”
“And the detachment,” Mr. Doyle muttered. “You know what they say. Once Rivera girls set their minds to something, they don’t look back.”
One Wednesday afternoon, Mia walked through the hallway with a bag of textbooks under one arm, a borrowed copy of Introduction to Linear Algebra tucked against her hip, and her Sony Discman clipped to her belt. She was listening to a Spanish cassette Sarah had recommended - something about verb tenses and musical rhythm.
Caleb passed her by the water fountain, slowed his pace, opened his mouth to say something - And then ... didn’t.
She walked right past him, not unkindly - just untouched. Her eyes focused ahead. Already somewhere else.
He stood there for a moment, hand still hovering near the fountain button, watching her disappear around the corner.
“Damn,” he muttered.
Back in the library, Mia sat at her usual window seat and unpacked her notes.
She wasn’t thinking about Caleb.
Or Prom.
Or who was kissing whom behind the bleachers.
She was thinking about integrals. And the shimmer of sweat on Bharath’s chest this morning. And how she’d made Sarah laugh so hard during tutoring that she’d dropped her pencil.
She was thinking about mid-November.
About Diwali.
About costumes and choreography and whispered plans.
About the way Marisol squeezed her hand when no one else was looking.
About the way he didn’t know yet-but would.
For now, the high school world could wonder all it liked.
Let them gossip.
Let them ask if she was broken, reborn, or just ... gone.
They could have their questions.
Because Mia?
Mia had her answers.
Smith 202 still smelled faintly like Icy Hot and ambition gone slightly sour.
Tyrel lay belly-up on the tile floor, one arm across his forehead, legs twitching every few seconds like his body had developed a personality disorder.
“I swear on every copy of NBA Live I ever loved,” he groaned, “if I even think about squatting today, my ass gon’ walk out my body and file emancipation.”
From the corner, Ravi groaned louder.
He was sitting on Bharath’s unused bed - or as they now called it, Ravi’s secondary crash pad - slumped against the headboard, holding his quads like a trauma patient.
“I haven’t felt this betrayed since my cousin tried to sell me knockoff Adidas in Karol Bagh quoting me full price,” he muttered. “My legs are vibrating. I’m not sure they’re still mine.”
Across the room, Jorge was clean, freshly showered, and already halfway into buttoning a crisp shirt. He looked like he belonged in a different universe.
“You guys make too much noise,” Jorge said, calm as ever. “Bharath and I got a full back-and-biceps pump today. We didn’t even go hard.”
Tyrel peeked at him from the floor. “You two are a special case, man. Ain’t no one sayin’ it to your face, but we all hatin’ just a little.”
Ravi nodded weakly. “You’ve been gymming with Bharath since orientation. You’re now built like a gym TA. We’re still in the remedial section.”
Jorge grinned. “I’m just consistent. You guys are still new. It gets easier.”
Tyrel shook his head. “Nope. That boy Bharath ain’t built like the rest of us. Man finishes deadlifts, goes for extra abs, then walks out like he just did yoga in a meadow for apparently more action at home.”
Ravi sat up, pushing his hair back. “He doesn’t even sweat the way we do. He glistens. Like some Wild Stone cologne commercial.”
“I still think it’s the damn Wild Stone,” Tyrel said, dragging himself to his feet. “That cologne done unlocked his final form.”
“He got two girlfriends and abs now,” Ravi muttered. “At this point, I’ll wear the whole bottle if it’ll get Nandita to look at me the way those girls look at him.”
Jorge laughed, tossing Tyrel a clean shirt. “He earned that. Gym. School. And those girls? He doesn’t take them for granted.”
Tyrel caught the shirt and nodded. “True that. Every time I see him with Sarah and Marisol, he always acts like he’s grateful. He treats them like goddesses without favoring one over the other.”
Ravi leaned back on the bed, stretching. “That’s what gets me, man. He’s got this chaos around him - but he still shows up for class, tutors half the floor, and crushes every set at the gym.”
“And wakes up with two goddesses,” Tyrel added.
Jorge raised his hands. “Legend. And here I am struggling to keep up with Camila.”
Tyrel finally stood fully and started hunting for his sneakers under a pile of laundry. “Yo. I ain’t even mad though. Me and LaTasha? We good. I don’t need ten girls in my bed. I need one who can put me in my place and still kiss me with my dumb jokes goodnight.”
“Same,” Ravi said. “Nandita told me if I even thought about skipping gym again, she’d enroll me in a self-esteem course taught by her grandmother.”
“That abuela wisdom,” Jorge said, laughing. “Camila threatened to cancel every cuddle night if I missed leg day.”
Tyrel grinned. “And yet somehow, Bharath got Marisol and Sarah to thank him for gym day.”
“Different species,” Ravi said. “He’s out here rewriting masculinity in jeans and floppy hair.”
The room buzzed with the comfortable energy of three guys trying - really trying - to get their act together. Shirts were pulled on. Wild Stone was passed around like a secret weapon. Ravi made a half-hearted attempt to brush his hair. Tyrel slipped on his signature chain.
They were almost ready.
But not quite.
They quickly got ready and walked over to the College of Computing.
“Time for the show.”
Jorge joined him, arms crossed.
Ravi shuffled in behind them, holding his bookbag and squinting into the morning light imagining Bharath, Sarah and Marisol walking to the College of Computing together as they trudged up the Hill to the library, to the College of Computing and then waited for the current royalty of GT to arrive.
And there they were. Walking across the quad like it was a damn runway. Bharath’s hair damp, polo shirt clinging to his post-gym frame, backpack slung loose over one shoulder like he didn’t even try.
Flanked - as always - by Sarah and Marisol.
Sarah, in tight jeans and a loose tee that looked like it belonged in a JCPenney ad for “Effortless Seduction.” Marisol, radiant in a midi skirt and crop top, laughing at something Bharath had said. They lived in their own world - with the world witness to their love.
Together they were absurd. A triangle of heat, confidence, and calm that parted the crowd wherever they walked.
Tyrel whistled low. “Here come the gods.”
Jorge smirked. “They walk like they know everyone’s watching but just don’t care.”
“Because everyone is watching,” Ravi said.
Down on the quad, a freshman walking past nearly tripped over his own flip-flops staring at Sarah. A junior guy pretending to be on the payphone dropped the receiver when Marisol tossed her curls back. A girl in the distance let out a visible sigh and bumped into a trash can.
And then - right on cue - Sarah leaned over and kissed Bharath like she was trying to extract his breakfast out of him.
Not rushed.
Not casual.
One of those kisses that melted time.
Ravi placed a hand over his chest. “Goddamn. That girl’s going to be responsible for ten heart attacks today.”
Tyrel sighed. “Alright. Showtime’s over. Let’s go pretend we belong on this campus.”
Jorge clapped Ravi on the back. “You keep showing up, bro. You’ll be killing it by finals. I can already see it.”
“Appreciate you, bhai,” Ravi said. “Let’s hope Nandita agrees.”
“She already does,” Jorge said. “She picked you, didn’t she?”
Tyrel opened the door to the building, grinning. “I’m outta here. Can’t let Bharath soak up all the spotlight.”
Ravi followed, laughing. “Yeah, man. Leave some for the rest of us.”
And with that, the boys of Smith 202 stepped out to their classes - a little sore, a little tired, but walking taller than yesterday.
Because legends were real.
And they were learning from the best.
It had been nearly two weeks since the Halloween party, but the girls were still riding the afterglow.
They’d claimed the back patio at Sarah’s house - sweaty and radiant after a brutally satisfying yoga session led by Sarah. Oversized mugs of cardamom-ginger chai sat steaming on the table, next to bowls of fresh fruit and roasted almonds. Their mats lay rolled near the door, and the girls lounged barefoot in light wraps and tank tops, their skin still flushed from exertion.
A soft breeze threaded through the hedges, and the speaker on the windowsill played Camila’s Buddha Bar CD, soulful and golden.
Camila, Marisol, Sarah, LaTasha, and Nandita had finally found a morning where none of them had class, practice, or men to wrangle.
It was girl bonding time.
“My hips may never forgive you,” LaTasha groaned, stretching one leg out with a wince. “That pigeon pose was a betrayal.”
“That pigeon pose,” Nandita added, fanning herself, “made me see God. And also every muscle I didn’t know I had.”
Sarah smiled smugly, legs tucked under her. “You’ll thank me tomorrow when your back feels like it’s been kissed by angels.”
“Easy for you to say,” Camila muttered, eyeing Sarah’s flat stomach. “You don’t even sweat. You glow.”
Marisol sipped her chai, amused. “She’s like one of those eighties workout goddesses. Except smugger.”
“You’re one to talk,” Camila shot back. “Watching you do that backbend today was like watching a telenovela in slow motion. Your shirt rode up and I nearly fell off my mat.”
“I’m just flexible - thanks to Sarah’s sessions over the last two months. Bharath likes us bendy,” Marisol said sweetly.
“Flexible and smug,” Sarah added.
The girls broke into laughter.
“I still can’t believe how much has changed since Halloween,” Nandita said, curling her fingers around her mug. “I went into that party a nervous ghost and came out with a date and a spotlight.”
“And curves,” Camila teased. “Ravi’s been looking at you like you’re the Mona Lisa, and he’s the world’s horniest art historian.”
LaTasha cackled. “Girl, I saw him the other day at the vending machine just standing there, smiling like an idiot. I asked if he was okay. He said, ‘I was just thinking about Nandita’s laugh.’”
Nandita turned crimson. “Oh my god, please.”
“Don’t hide,” Sarah said, stretching languidly. “We’re all obsessed with ours. Might as well brag about it.”
LaTasha raised her mug. “To our men.”
“Still learning how to be men,” Marisol added, lifting hers. “But worth the investment.”
They clinked their mugs gently.
Camila leaned back, gazing at the circle. “For real though? This group is something else. I’ve had girl groups, study groups, roommates. But this feels...”
“Like family,” Marisol finished.
“Chosen family,” Sarah echoed.
Camila nodded slowly. “And I swear, Mia’s gonna fit in perfectly. I get this feeling. Like she’s going to be the sharp-tongued little sister I never had.”
Marisol’s smile softened. “She’s already there. And she’s obsessed with how good Sarah and I look in yoga gear, by the way.”
“Girl, we’re obsessed,” LaTasha said, motioning between them. “I mean, come on. Those legs? Those abs? Those boobs? This morning was practically pornographic. I was stretching and praying, y’all were seducing the sun.”
“You are unreal,” Nandita agreed. “I’m over here trying not to pass out and Sarah’s casually doing a one-legged crow like it’s her day job.”
Sarah smirked. “I just teach. Marisol’s the real natural.”
Marisol waved a hand. “My secret is being in love and constantly worshipped.”
She grinned wickedly. “Also, daily yoga with Sarah and frequent acrobatics with Bharath will make anyone more flexible. We’re basically in a three-person Olympics - except instead of medals, we get multiple orgasms.”
Sarah raised her mug. “And sore hips. Don’t forget those.”
That got a round of gasps, laughter, and mock claps.
“Speaking of...” Camila leaned in, eyes gleaming. “What’s it really like - being with someone like Bharath? Be honest. We’re taking notes.”
Marisol and Sarah exchanged a look - not just wicked, but reverent. A silent dialogue passed between them: memories, sensations, love that ran too deep for casual phrasing.
“It’s...” Marisol began, but her voice caught. She tried again, softer. “It’s more than anyone expects. Than we ever expected.”
Sarah’s tone turned gentle. “It’s not just sex. It’s soulwork. Like ... he doesn’t touch your body until he’s already memorized your spirit.”
Marisol nodded, eyes glimmering. “He learns you. Every breath, every silence, every shiver. And then he gives it back to you - like worship, like truth. I’ve never felt more ... seen.”
“He listens,” Sarah whispered. “With his hands. With his mouth. With his whole body. And when he finally moves inside you - it’s not just pleasure. It’s like something sacred passing through your ribs.”
LaTasha blinked, stunned. “Damn.”
“It’s slow,” Marisol said. “Until it’s not. Sometimes he makes you wait, hovering at the edge until your soul’s about to slip out of your body. And then he takes you apart so gently you’re sobbing. Or he holds you down and ruins you so perfectly it feels like salvation.”
“It’s not about dominance,” Sarah added. “It’s devotion. He adores us. He brings all his focus, all that brain of his - the way he learns coding or languages? That’s how he learns our bodies. And our hearts.”
There was a long pause.
Camila pressed a hand to her chest. “Okay ... well. Jorge’s definitely getting a deeply emotional PowerPoint tonight.”
“Send me that when you’re done. I’m going to add charts,” LaTasha muttered. “with voiceover.”
Nandita was quiet, visibly moved. “You really love him,” she said softly. “I mean - not just desire. Not just romance. It’s like he’s part of you.”
Marisol smiled, her voice thick. “He is. He’s in our bones. In our breaths. And the more he loves us, the more ourselves we become.”
Sarah nodded. “He doesn’t tame you. He unleashes you.”
Camila swallowed hard. “No offense, but y’all are making me cry a little.”
“Same,” Nandita whispered. “I didn’t know it could be like that.”
Sarah reached for Marisol’s hand, their fingers lacing easily. “We didn’t either. But then he loved us into it. Into being this ... this us.”
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was full.
Camila finally broke it, voice wry. “Apsara training, huh?”
Sarah grinned. “Lesson one: Trust. Lesson two: Teasing. Lesson three...”
Marisol: “Learn his tells. What makes him lose control. Then use it.”
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