Lena's POV
I turn to Noah, crossing the space before I can overthink it, and then I'm kissing him too.
Noah kisses differently than his brother—more intensity, like he's been holding back for so long he can't quite control it.
His hands find my waist and pull me closer, and I go willingly. When I pull back, his pupils are wide and his breathing unsteady, and there's something in his expression that makes me feel powerful in a way I've never felt before.
My hands find Noah's shirt hem, fingers curling into the cotton. I tug upward slowly, deliberately, and he lifts his arms to help, but his eyes never leave my face.
The shirt falls to the floor. I'm staring at the broad shoulders and chest that come from hours in the weight room, and he's watching me watch him with an intensity that makes my skin feel too tight.
"Are you sure?" Noah asks, his voice rough and low. The question hangs between us, weighted with everything we're not saying, with the understanding that if I say no right now, everything stops.
That this moment only continues if I actively, consciously choose it.
But I want this too.
I can feel my desire building up. It's crazy because the two boys I have always admired from afar, are here, wanting me.
How can I say no?
I'd rather give myself to them than a stranger whom I know nothing about, for money.
I'm going to hate myself afterwards, if this is with a total stranger.
I nod, unable to trust my voice, but the gesture is clear enough. I'm sure. I want this. I want them.
I turn to Evan, my hands already reaching for his shirt. He stands still as I work the fabric up and over his head, cooperative but not helping, letting me take my time.
His body is different from Noah's—leaner, more defined in some places, and I find myself fascinated by the differences.
"You don't need to do this if you're not ready," Evan says, his voice gentle but firm. "We meant what we said. The money is yours either way. This doesn't have to happen."
I freeze, my hands still on his chest. The mention of money is like cold water, like reality intruding on whatever spell we've been under.
"I hope you're not doing this because you feel you need to because of the money," Evan continues, genuine worry in his eyes.
My hands freeze completely.
Is that what I'm doing? The question sits heavy in my chest.
Noah gives Evan a cold stare. "Now?" he says, frustration clear. "You're bringing that up now?"
But the question has been asked. I turn back to Noah, needing to ground myself. I kiss him again, harder this time, trying to prove something, to him, to Evan, to myself. That this is what I want.
The money is secondary.
Noah responds immediately, his earlier frustration melting into something hotter. His hands slide up my back, pulling me against him, and I can feel the heat of his skin through my shirt, the way his heart races.
When his mouth moves from my lips to my jaw, then down to my neck, I forget to breathe, forget everything except being wanted like this.
Evan moves closer behind me, his hands settling on my waist. He's giving me space to pull away, but I don't. Instead, I lean back, letting myself be held between them.
"Tell us what you want," Evan says softly, his mouth close to my ear. "We need to hear you say it."
What do I want? Not what I need for tuition, not what desperation drove me to consider, but what I actually want. I take a breath, feeling both their hands on me.
"I want this," I say, my voice steadier than expected. "I want you. Both of you. Not because of the money. Not because I think I have to. Because I want to know what it feels like to be chosen. To be wanted. To not be invisible for once."
The words come out raw and honest. In their wake, something shifts in the room. Noah's grip tightens, and Evan's breath hitches.
What happens next unfolds slowly, carefully, with more questions than I expected and more gentleness than I thought possible.
They ask permission for every touch, every kiss, until I'm dizzy with being respected like this, with being treated like my consent matters more than their desire.
It's nothing like the clinical transaction I imagined when I created that profile. It's messy and awkward in places, tender in others, and through it all, I feel seen.
Not invisible. Not the uncool girl who eats lunch alone. Just Lena, wanted and chosen and held between two people who look at me like I'm worth being careful with.
I am being worshipped like the most beautiful thing in the whole universe, and I feel beautiful. With Noah working on my boobs, sucking on them like his life depends on it making me lose my mind as I drop to the bed with a thud, Evan takes his pants off and I gasp.
I am already wet and ready for him. He looks at me, as if to ask for permission and I nod eagerly.
Instantly, he digs into me and I let out a loud moan of pleasure, until everything else shatters, leaving me with the euphoria of being passionately loved by two men.