It had been raining for hours.
Clara and James were curled up by the fireplace in the shared lounge of their eco-lodge — a quiet mountain hideaway, the kind of place with no televisions, no signal, and too much time to look at each other.
Then Sage walked in.
She was soaked from the storm, cheeks flushed, eyes bright from the cold. She pulled off her rain jacket, smiled politely, and sat across from them with a steaming mug in her hands.
They didn’t talk at first. Just exchanged smiles, nods, the occasional glance through the firelight. But something crackled between them — and it wasn’t just the logs.
Eventually, Clara offered wine. Then James offered a blanket. And somehow, the three of them ended up tucked into the same oversized couch, the sound of rain and flame and nothing else.
Sage leaned her head against the cushion, her voice soft. “You two are close.”
Clara smiled. “We’ve been together a long time.”
Sage’s eyes flicked between them. “Ever let anyone in?”
James’s voice was steady. “Not until now.”
There was a pause. A shift in the air.
Sage looked to Clara. “Would you want to kiss me?”
Clara didn’t speak. She leaned in instead.
The kiss was quiet — not demanding, not rushed. Sage sighed into her mouth. James watched, his fingers curling around Clara’s hip as her hand moved to Sage’s thigh.
They didn’t rush.
Clara kissed Sage again, deeper this time, guiding her closer as James brushed Sage’s back, grounding her in touch. Clothes loosened slowly. Sage lay back between them, her shirt open, breath catching as Clara’s mouth moved lower and James kissed her neck from behind.
They didn’t go all the way. But Sage came with Clara’s fingers inside her, James whispering in her ear, holding her hand through the tremble.
And when it was over, no one moved to leave.
Sage lay between them, her cheek on Clara’s chest, her fingers still linked with James’s.
“Are you staying tomorrow night too?” Clara asked quietly.
Sage nodded.
James smiled into the dark. “Good.”
