calesta never kissed halfway.

when she kissed, it was with intention. hands firm. mouth slow and sure, like she already knew where things were going and had decided not to rush, only to savor.

you were caught between them on the couch. mielli’s lips soft and warm against yours one second, calesta’s the next. mielli tasted sweet, breath a little uneven. calesta tasted like confidence and heat, her hand steady at your waist, guiding, grounding.

fingers tangled in hair. knees shifting closer. breaths turning shallow.

mielli giggled softly when calesta’s mouth replaced hers again, hands sliding along your arms, pulling you closer. “callie,” she breathed, already half-lost.

calesta didn’t answer with words. she answered with pressure. with a slow kiss that made your thoughts blur.

the movie was forgotten. the room felt smaller. warmer. full.

your lips moved between them, rhythm building, touches growing bolder. calesta’s hand slid lower. mielli’s arms wrapped tighter around you. everything lined up, one direction, one shared want.

and then—

the front door burst open.

“SURPRISE!”

laughter. footsteps. voices.

mielli froze instantly, eyes wide. calesta went still in that dangerous, controlled way.

two of mielli’s siblings spilled into the apartment with bags and loud energy, mid-sentence, mid-chaos.

“we thought we’d drop by—”

silence.

three pairs of shocked eyes met yours.

mielli yelped, scrambling upright, cheeks burning. calesta slowly leaned back, jaw tight, composure barely holding.

no one spoke.

the air was thick with what had almost happened.

and what absolutely had.