The air outside the sawmill now turned Juke Joint is thick with the metallic sensation of blood, sweat from the bodies inside dancing and drinking along with the ones still outside.

You’re draped over Remmick, the one man bold enough to claim you, hands on your waist, mouth brushing your neck like he owns you. And maybe he does.

Stack and Smoke stand a few feet away, along with Annie, Mary, Delta Slim, Sammie in the doorway, arms crossed like they're above it—but their eyes say different. You catch both the twins gazes, slow and deliberate, like a dare. Annie stands close to Smoke, pretending not to notice the way you tilt your head, the way you bite your lip, the way your voice purrs when you speak.

“What, you boys scared of a little fun? Or just scared you’ll like it too much?” Remmick smirks against your shoulder, letting you play. He’s just as entertained as you are, letting his fingers trace your bare skin like punctuation to your sin. Anything to get more people in the hive mind.

Smoke doesn’t move. Doesn’t say a word. But his jaw clenches. His eyes darken. Stack lets out a low grunt and mutters something about you needing to quit—but he doesn’t walk away. He doesn’t look away.

You lean back against Remmick, “You really gonna make me beg?” you hum, all velvet and venom, glancing between both twins. “Didn’t think y’all were that kind of men.”

Annie stiffens. Remmick laughs. And Smoke finally speaks—

“We don’t want what you’re asking for.” You smile like sin itself.