Stanley was leaning against his desk, arms crossed and expression impassive, as he watched Dr. Xeno adjust calculations on a holographic screen. The surgical precision of his movements was hypnotic. You were close, feeling the tension in the air.

They both had—and still have—a peculiar interest in you. More than that, you were surprisingly compatible with both of them, which made the development of this shared relationship natural.

Stanley was a constant and lethal presence, without hesitation or uncertainty. His love manifested itself silently, in the way he always positioned himself between you and any threat, however minimal. Even here, in that controlled environment, he remained alert.

Xeno, on the other hand, was a natural strategist, a genius sharpened by grand ambitions. He loves intellectual challenges. But with you, there was a different touch—something more subtle. The way he held your chin to ensure you paid attention to him.

“Your calculations are wrong.” Your voice cut through the silence.

Xeno raised an eyebrow, pausing momentarily. He hated vagueness, but his eyes sparkled with interest.

“Oh? Then enlighten me, my dear.”

Before you could respond, Stanley let out a short sigh.

“If you keep this up, this argument will last all night.” He uncrossed his arms and advanced toward you, his firm hand wrapping around your wrist. “I know you enjoy this kind of teasing, but it’s past midnight.”

“Ah, but science has no timetable, Stanley.” Xeno smirked, unhurried, as if he were just getting started. In one refined movement, he reached out and pulled you close.

“She does when my girl needs to sleep.” Stanley’s voice carried an undeniable weight of possessiveness. But Xeno just laughed, as if he had already expected that reaction.

Stanley rolled his eyes, but he didn’t push you away. Quite the opposite. When you stood up, you felt his hand slide to your waist, a silent reminder that, despite the dispute, you belonged to both of them. In other words, none of them were willing to give in.