"Seriously?"
The word jolts you from what had actually been a pretty good sleep. For a moment, your pillow feels warm and comforting, and you instinctively reach out to pull it closer. But before your hand makes it to its destination, a firm grip catches your wrist.
"Might want to wake up, pumpkin," a low voice murmurs, rumbling against your ear. It's your first clue that you're not on your pillow at all—you're lying on Marlowe. The realization hits just as you open your eyes, only to be met with JJ and Emily standing at the foot of the bed, their expressions a mix of frustration and barely contained restraint.
"She just fell asleep," Marlowe offers, her tone surprisingly neutral. She isn't poking at Emily and JJ like she had been at the bar. Your confession to her seems to have mellowed her teasing, at least for now. "There's enough room for you two if you want to join. You didn't miss much. The bad guy already killed a girl and a person of color. Horror movie logic says the gay kid's next."
"Oh my god, not Randy!" Penelope bursts into the room, climbing onto her own bed with a stash of candy she'd clearly hidden earlier. She's immediately immersed in the movie, looking distressed.
"Yes, Randy!" Marlowe says, extracting herself from your grip, which you hadn't even realized was still wrapped around her.
As soon as Marlowe moves off the bed, you feel JJ and Emily's eyes on you. They shift awkwardly, but their intensity is unmistakable. JJ tilts her head slightly, giving you that familiar look—the one that says she's profiling you. You have no idea what she's seeing in your behavior, but it makes your stomach flip. You're also half-expecting them to comment on the Deputy's outfit—your "Oxford" tank top and "Bazinga" shorts clearly out of place on her, but they say nothing.
"Are you going to join us?" you ask hesitantly. You aren't entirely sure what you want their answer to be. Part of you—the part still aching from the emotional vulnerability you'd spilled earlier—wants them to crawl into the bed and stay with you. But another part of you, the logical part that keeps all those messy feelings tightly boxed up, knows it's probably not a good idea.
"Actually," JJ speaks up, her tone unusually tentative, "we thought we might have a chat. In the hall or in our room, whichever you prefer."
You didn't think your stomach could feel as queasy as it had when you were bent over, heaving into the toilet, but the thought of this conversation is making you feel worse. You know it's the adult thing to do, the responsible thing, but that doesn't stop the rising dread. "Ummm… hallway?"
Your toes curl into the scratchy carpet as you step into the hallway, the rough texture giving you something to focus on other than the tightness building in your chest. It's a poor substitute for the grounding you desperately need, but it's all you've got. You stand there, awkwardly, waiting for them to talk first. You really don't want to start this conversation.
JJ and Emily exchange a glance, one of those silent communications they've clearly mastered after all these years together. It makes you feel like an outsider, like they're in sync and you're just trying to keep up.
JJ speaks first, her voice gentle, but there's something behind it—something like worry or maybe even fear. "We just… we wanted to check in. You seemed—" she hesitates, searching for the right word, "off. And we didn't really get a chance to talk at the bar."
Emily crosses her arms over her chest, a defensive stance like shes protecting herself. It's subtle. "It feels like we're on different pages here," she says, her voice firmer but not unkind. "About everything."
You swallow hard, closing your eyes for a moment to collect yourself. Your voice feels small, like it belongs to someone else. "Yeah… it's not you."
JJ's expression softens, but there's a flicker of something—anxiety, maybe? Frustration? She cuts in gently before you can continue down the path of the dreaded 'it's not you, it's me' speech. "We can change our arrangement," she offers, her tone hopeful, but there's a tension behind it, like she's holding her breath, waiting for your response. "Let you define the boundaries. We had limits at the club, but we haven't really set any here. It's thrown us all off balance, and that's on us."
She glances at Emily, and you can tell this isn't just something she's saying on a whim. They've clearly talked about this—about you, about what's happening between the three of you. Emily's face is more guarded, but she's not arguing. She's waiting too.
The weight of it all presses down on you. You're not used to these kinds of conversations, the ones that involve feelings and vulnerability. In the dungeon, there were rules—clear, established boundaries that made things feel safe and structured. But out here, in the real world, everything feels… messy.
JJ continues, sensing your hesitation. "We had limits in place at the club because it was part of the scene. But we haven't set them here, and that's on us. We need limits, just like we had then. Hard limits, soft limits…"
There's a pause, one where you feel their expectation hanging in the air, but instead of diving into the vulnerability they seem to want, something else inside you clicks into place. A sharp defense mechanism, honed from years of protecting yourself from too much emotional entanglement.
You take a breath and ask, "May I ask you why?" You've already decided to start over—not with them. With someone else. Marlowe's not the one, either. You need someone who will hurt you in the ways that make sense, someone who won't try to fix you afterward. Someone who can break you the way you need to be broken so you can piece yourself back together.
JJ opens her mouth, preparing to talk about feelings, but there's a hesitation. Penelope had warned them not to bring up feelings, to keep this practical. To stay logical because that's what you are—logical above all else.
Emily takes over, her voice controlled, even. "I think we can agree we're well-matched in our play. Finding someone who matches our kinks, our desires…" She exhales, the weight of it all in her tone. "It's not easy. And when it comes to letting out frustrations from our type of work, that release is… important."
You tilt your head, processing her words carefully. "So you're saying we could define boundaries just to work out 'frustrations from work'?"
Emily's eyes widen slightly, realizing she may have said the wrong thing. There's a split second where she looks ready to backtrack, to clarify, but you keep going, your mind already working on this prospect.
"So, during travel? We could… under set limits, play?"
JJ's face changes, something flickering across her features—disappointment maybe, or resignation. But she's the one to nod, quick to grab onto the scraps of what you're offering. "Sure…"
"I could do that," you reply, feeling a sense of control reassert itself. You're shifting this into something that feels safe for you—detached, impersonal. Just an outlet. Just play.
Emily's jaw tightens. "Great," she says, though there's something hollow in her voice.
"But only when we travel." The words fall from your lips like a shield. You can't do this with them in real life, in the space where real feelings might seep in. Keeping it contained—limited to when you're away, disconnected from the everyday world—feels safer.
JJ glances at Emily, her expression guarded but still hopeful. "That's okay. We travel a lot."
It's a strange relief that settles in your chest—one born not from clarity but from the comfort of compartmentalizing, of reducing this tangled mess into something manageable. It's not what they might have wanted, but it's what you can offer.
An awkward silence settles over the three of you, and you shuffle your feet, feeling the weight of the conversation pressing down on your shoulders. You glance toward the room, where Marlowe and Penelope are undoubtedly still watching their horror movie. "Would you like to come in and watch the rest of the movie?" you offer, your voice tentative, trying to fill the space with something lighter.
They exchange glances again, this time with a little more uncertainty. JJ bites her lip, then looks back at you. "Is that within the limits?" she asks, her tone soft but edged with caution.
You hesitate, considering your options. You could invite them in and risk an awkward cuddle in front of Marlowe and Penelope. But truthfully, that feels even more messy. Besides, the dream you'd had earlier about the two of them—the one that had left a lingering warmth between your thighs—still simmered under the surface.
The thought of testing limits again, especially after so much time, sends a shiver through you. You missed this. You missed them. It's more than just the physical side of things—you missed how they made you feel, the release, the headspace that only they could coax out of you.
"Or," you say, carefully choosing your words, "we could go into your room and… find out these limits… together. Maybe see if this is even possible… outside of the dungeon?"
There's a flicker of recognition in Emily's eyes—a hint of that dominant confidence she exudes in the dungeon—and relief, perhaps, that you're still open to exploring this dynamic. Her lips twitch upward, softening her expression as she nods. JJ's eyes dart toward her wife for confirmation before nodding as well, her body language easing as if your suggestion has offered them both a lifeline in this awkward moment.
"Yeah," Emily says, her voice firmer now, more like the Mistress you're used to. "Let's go…test this out."
The energy between the three of you shifts as Emily leads them down the hallway, away from the others, away from the noise and the confusion. Your headspace begins to soften, the edges of your thoughts blurring as you sink into the rhythm of following, letting them take the lead. You barely notice the carpet under your feet now, the world narrowing down to just this moment, to the charged air between you.
Emily locks the door behind the three of you, her eyes glinting in the dim light of the hotel room. The look she gives you sends a shiver down your spine, the same look she gives right before telling you to get on your knees. But you know better than to act without permission.
JJ perches on the edge of the bed, watching your every move as if assessing you, but there's an unspoken invitation there too—like she's giving you space to decide how far you want to go. She is much more hesitant.
Emily steps closer to you, her fingers brushing lightly over your arm, almost a test, as if to feel out the boundaries you're still figuring out. "You said you wanted to see if this could work outside the dungeon," she murmurs, her voice dropping into the huskier register that makes your heart race. "Is that what you really want, Doc?"
Your breath catches at the use of that name. It's not the way they had been saying while working the case. You nod, feeling the tension coil in your stomach, your voice coming out soft, compliant. "Yes, Mistress."
JJ's eyes darken at the word, but she doesn't move, still waiting for you to give her more. She still needs to be sure that you are completely okay with this.
Emily's thumb grazes your jaw, tilting your chin up so you meet her gaze directly. "Let's set some rules," she says, her voice commanding. "Safe word?"
"Wadham," you reply, the word familiar on your tongue. It was always the one you used, your college at Oxford—something no one else would ever think to say in a scene.
"Good," Emily praises, her hand moving from your jaw to rest gently at your throat. She doesn't squeeze, but the pressure is enough to remind you who's in control. JJ's body language shifts as she watches, her fingers twitching like she wants to reach out but is waiting for your signal.
You're already slipping into that headspace, the one where everything becomes simpler, where the weight of everyday life melts away. The club might be miles away, but here, in this dimly lit hotel room, it feels like they've brought it with you. The dynamic, the play—it's all the same.
JJ sees the shift in you, the signal she's been waiting for, and finally steps closer, her touch soft but firm as her fingers trail down your arm. "Remember, Doc," she murmurs, her breath sending a shiver through you, "you're in control of how far this goes."
With both JJ and Emily now flanking you, their presence is overwhelming in the best way. Every nerve in your body is attuned to them. The moan gasp that escapes your lips betrays how much you've missed this—the pull, the rhythm of falling into your role.
Emily's hand tightens slightly on your throat, not enough to hurt, just enough to ground you, to remind you of her control. JJ's lips brush against your ear, her breath hot and teasing, making your heart race. The familiar dynamic begins to settle in around you like a second skin.
You missed this.
"Shall we find those limits together, then?" Emily asks as JJ presses closer, her presence a soothing contrast to Emily's firm grip.