Dinner was quiet, the soft clink of cutlery filling the silence between Stiles and her husband. She wore a low-cut camisole, the thin straps slipping down her shoulders, her tits practically spilling with every movement. Jackson hardly looked up from his plate.

“My designs are stacking up,” he muttered, massaging his temples. “The study needs better light, more space. I was thinking of renovating the back room.”

Stiles perked up, lips curving slyly. Renovation? Work? Labour? She thought instantly of the new neighbours — their arms, their sweat, the way they carried furniture like it weighed nothing.

“You know,” she said sweetly, slicing her chicken, “instead of hiring a company, maybe we could ask the new neighbours. It’d cost us less. And they look… strong.” Her voice dipped on the last word, her thighs pressing together under the table.

Jackson looked up, glasses sliding down his nose. “Really? You think they’d do that?”

She smiled innocently. “Why not? It’s just neighbours helping neighbours. And you’ll save money, baby.”

His face brightened, completely missing the way her nipples pushed against the fabric. “That’s a good idea, Stiles. I’ll ask them tomorrow.”

She nodded, hiding her smirk behind her wine glass.

The next evening, Jackson sat in his chair near the window while Stiles flitted around the living room, adjusting her dress — a tight little thing, red and low-cut, clinging to every curve, her ass bouncing with every step. Her heart raced as the doorbell rang.

“They’re here,” she whispered, smoothing her hair.

“Go on, invite them in,” Jackson said, smiling faintly.

She opened the door, and there they were. Derek in a fitted black shirt that hugged his chest, Peter in nothing but a tank top, his arms glistening, and Scott leaning against the frame, lips curled into that same lazy smirk.

“Come in,” she said softly, stepping back. The dress clung tighter as she moved, and she felt their eyes burn into her ass.

The three entered, their presence filling the modest living room. They looked around briefly — then their gazes landed on Jackson.

He shifted in his chair, legs stiff, offering a polite smile. “I’m Jackson. My wife said I should ask — I’m planning to renovate the back room into a proper workspace. More light, maybe knock down a wall or two. I wondered if you could help?”

Derek and Peter exchanged a glance. Scott’s eyes flicked to Stiles, smirking.

“Of course,” Derek said smoothly. “We’d be more than happy to help.”

“Yeah,” Peter added, voice low, eyes dropping to Stiles’ cleavage as she bent slightly to set down a tray of drinks. “Anything for neighbours.”

Stiles felt their stares burn against her tits, her ass, her thighs — every inch of her on display. She crossed her legs slowly on the sofa, the dress riding up, pretending not to notice the way Scott’s eyes lingered.

“Really,” Jackson said, his voice warm with relief. “That would mean so much. I can’t do heavy lifting anymore. It’s… frustrating.” His voice cracked slightly, and he looked down.

Stiles’ heart softened briefly for her husband — but it only made the tension sharper. The men knew. They knew he couldn’t touch her the way she needed, couldn’t fuck her, couldn’t even stand long enough to hold her the way she deserved.

And from the smirks on their faces, they knew exactly what that meant.

“Don’t worry, Jackson,” Derek said, leaning back casually. “We’ll handle everything.” His eyes flicked to Stiles’ tits as he spoke.

Peter smirked. “Yeah. We’ve got strong backs. Big hands.” His gaze dipped shamelessly between her thighs.

Scott chuckled under his breath, sipping from the glass she’d given him. “We’ll take good care of it.”

Stiles’ face heated, her pussy clenching at the double meaning dripping from every word. She squeezed her thighs together, smiling sweetly at her husband, hiding the wetness soaking her panties.

Jackson, poor fool, only beamed. “See, Stiles? Told you this was a good idea.”

She sipped her drink to hide her grin, her lips glistening as she licked the rim. Across the room, three pairs of eyes followed every drop.

Her husband thought this was about a renovation.

But Stiles knew this was the beginning of something else entirely.