Page 36 of Red River

The tension inside me eased just a little. My earlier worries—those creeping doubts about whether I could actually arouse him—disappeared. Because if he got off just from looking at me… he could definitely do it while in my hole.

"Wait a sec," Archer said, his voice still a little rough. I heard him leave the room, then return a moment later. I twitched slightly when I felt the soft press of a paper towel against my skin. He wiped me down gently, then tossed another one between my legs, cleaning up the mess I’d made.

Only then did I sit up, turning toward him.

He was already back in his boxers, his face still slightly flushed—but otherwise composed. When our eyes met, he smirked, a little teasing, a little amused.

"That was a very nice and informative inspection. I appreciate your initiative, River."

Flustered, I dropped my gaze, feeling both embarrassed and—oddly—cherished.

"Was Thomas the only one you let into your hole, River?"

"Yes, he was my first and only lover."

"Then I intend to be your last. But there will be time for that yet. You are tired from the many hours of travel, River. Now you should go back to your room and get a good night's sleep. So much has happened."

"Honestly, I feel pretty satisfied right now," I said, giving him a shy but slightly flirty look.

He chuckled softly. "I can imagine, but that'll wear off soon, and you'll crash like a toddler. Sweet dreams, River."

"Sweet dreams, Archer."

As I left his room, I was so excited I forgot to be careful. The door closed a bit too loudly, but I hoped no one heard it.

Back in my room, I stood there for a moment, feeling all over the place. I needed to do something—ground myself a bit—and there was one thing that always helped.

Going on instinct, I opened one of the closets I hadn’t checked before, and sure enough, I found exactly what I needed to build… a nest.

Colorful, soft pillows. Long scarves. Decorative silk ropes. A few blankets and wraps. It was the perfect setup!

How kind of Archer!

Something in my chest fluttered—it was sweet, knowing he’d thought of me again. I’d brought some things from home, but having new materials to experiment with felt… exciting.

A wave of primal instinct hit me, deep and pure. I pulled everything onto my bed and got to work, completely absorbed in the overpowering need to nest. It had always been my way of organizing my thoughts, balancing my energy, and recharging for whatever came next.

So I threw myself into it, shutting out the rest of the world.

ARCHER

Despite the day's intensity, I fell asleep surprisingly quickly but woke up earlier than usual—just before 6 am.

Unable to doze off again, I took a shower and headed downstairs to the kitchen. I drank some yogurt and decided to go for an early jog.

I ran for half an hour, clearing my head and calming my energy. With a fresh, positive outlook, I returned home.

At 6:33 am, the kitchen was still empty, so I took another shower. When I came out, I was surprised to see a new presence there.

Little Lake, dressed in pink pajamas and funny bunny slippers, stood by the fridge, staring at it with great uncertainty.

"Hey, Lake, looks like you’re hungry. Want me to fix you something to eat?"

He flinched, peering at me, a bit startled, but then nodded. I was surprised at how small he was, it was hard to believe that he was seven years old.

He had an unusually beautiful hair color—deep gold with a reddish glow when the morning sun hit it. Soft curls framed his perfect little face, reaching his shoulders. His eyes were big and bright green, with long golden-brown eyelashes. A few sunny freckles dotted his small nose, and his lips were shaped just like his dad’s—sweet and full.

I felt a wave of strange protectiveness. He was an adorable little omega, and I smiled warmly at him. Even though you couldn't determine a child’s subgender until puberty, I had to agree with what Sam always said—Lake would most likely grow into an omega, and an incredibly cute one at that. Though, of course, he could surprise us all during adolescence. Being beautiful didn’t solely determine subgender, after all. Igor was one example of that.

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