17. Alana
“Anyway. So that’s what happened.”Alana beamed at Lane from her therapy nest. “I didn’t throat punch Nurse Jennifer, then Hudson and I got home, made pierogies and a salad large enough to feed the entire state of New York, which was handy because JP and Jaz and then also Ophelia all ended up coming over for dinner, and then we found out that Hudson’s going to be showing some of his art at an upcoming exhibition and I cried all over him because I was so proud. And today I got to tell Patrick when I was going to be taking PTO for the surgery and he cried and then I cried and then someone called HR because they thought someone died.”
“Well, I’m glad you took the time to celebrate this, Alana,” Lane said. “This is a wonderful step forward.”
“I’m so happy I could puke,” Alana said. “And then simultaneously, I’m also terrified that someone’s gonna call me from Dr. Bradford’s office and tell me that there was a mistake of some kind and that the doctor didn’t actually mean to give me a referral, he had my paperwork mixed up with someone else’s. Or that I do go to meet the surgeon and they tell me they’re not going to go ahead with the surgery because I’m not qualified enough, or I’m too fat, or something.” She shrugged helplessly. “And like, I know those are anxiety thoughts, but they’re still there.”
“It makes sense for you to feel like that,” Lane replied. “I mean, this has been Lucy and the football for years, trying to get a diagnosis, and then trying to get a referral to a surgeon. It’s going to take time for it to sink in.”
Alana laughed at the understatement. “I feel like I’ll still be asking to make sure they mean it when they’re going to wheel me into the operating room.”
“And if you ask, that’s okay. You’re not the only one who’s had to jump through more hoops than necessary for a surgery like this.”
If only Lane knew just how many hoops Alana had jumped through. Not that she was ever, ever, ever going to tell him.
“I know. But I feel like I should be better about all of this.” Alana sighed, slumping further into the enormous chair that lived in the corner of her bedroom, usually covered with clothing, but cleared off every week so she could be swallowed by the chair while she talked about her feelings with Lane.
“Better how?”
“I dunno. Like, maybe I should be starting some sort of health journey in preparation. Deep clean my apartment? Like, this surgery kind of feels like it’s me starting my whole life over, like I have a second chance at…well, almost everything, and I should be taking advantage of it.”
“Have you been watching productivity videos again, Alana?”
That motherfucker. Why did he always have to know?
“Maybe. But it was about time management!”
“And did it teach you anything you didn’t already know?”
“Well, no,” Alana said. “But how was I supposed to know that before I watch it?”
Lane looked at her, and said nothing. It was the ‘Bitch, you know exactly, and lowkey I’m judging you a little’ therapist look. He employed it far more often than Alana enjoyed.
“Ugh, fine, I know, I can scroll down to the comments because there’s some wannabe productivity influencer that used some AI to summarize the video with timestamps and I could just read that.”
“And?” Lane prompted.
“And then I can remind myself I already have enough information and learning more things without implementing any of them is not going to change anything, and there are better ways for me to guilt trip myself for things I’m already doing a good job at, and I don’t have to live in a perpetual state of not feeling good enough,” Alana recited.
“I didn’t even have to say anything,” Lane said.
“Blah, blah.”
“You haven’t productivity spiraled in a while, right?”
Alana nodded.
“The last time you did this was when Hudson was moving in.”
“Well, technically, the last time was when his mom was coming to visit but he didn’t let me.”
Lane nodded thoughtfully. “I know it’s different living with Hudson than it is living with Shannon, and that having Shannon as a sounding board for when the urge to do everything perfectly overwhelmed you was a good way to head things off before they got too bad. How is it with Hudson?”
“Surprisingly really good?”
“Why is it surprising?” Lane asked. “Is it because of the leftover feelings from the Connecticut trip?”
Why the fuck did that man have to remember everything? Not that Alana wanted to spend time talking about the life choices she made because of her childhood, but fuck, right now it would be preferrable to dig up memories of her parents divorcing and how the urge to become good enough so somebody would love her grew like a parasite inside of her, and had spent the past two decades trying to devour her whole, instead of sit here and rehash the tangled mess that were her feelings for Hudson Miller.
“I don’t have residual feelings from Connecticut,” Alana lied. “We’re totally fine. It’s more just living platonically with a guy. I’ve never done that.”
And you still aren’t, you lying bitch,she thought to herself, and then shoved the thought away.
Lane looked like he was ready to call Alana out on her very obvious lie.
“I mean, sometimes it’s weird, because I’ll remember what happened. Usually if he’s walking around the apartment shirtless. But then I also see his heart surgery scars and want to wrap him in cotton and make sure he stays okay. And because he’d hate that if I did it, then I annoy him about something, and my equilibrium is back.”
There. That was only partially a lie. She did remember Connecticut when Hudson was shirtless. And then also remembered every other time they’d fucked in between then and now. And then she’d wonder if they were going to keep on fucking, or if one day Hudson would get bored of her. Alternatively, she would wonder what sort of sexual shenanigans she could coerce him into getting up to with her.
Not that it was particularly hard to convince him. He was more than enthused.
And it wasn’t that she wanted to cry every time she saw his scars, but when she would be lying tangled in her bed with him, she would press her ear to his chest and listen to the pounding of his heart and try not to get too emotional about it.
He kissed her stretch marks, she kissed his surgery scars.
“Soon you’re going to have some, too,” Hudson had said, and Alana had told him he wasn’t allowed to say things that were going to make her cry if he was about to fuck her because then she’d start crying and that was not the correct variety of moisture he was looking for.
“Are you considering bringing up what happened?” Lane asked.
Alana snorted. “I would literally rather die.”
As much as Alana lied to Lane about a lot of things, the thought of bringing up Connecticut to Hudson being approximately her worst nightmare was not much of an exaggeration. Should she be carrying on as though everything was fine and normal and her whole emotional life wasn’t balancing on an extremely delicate tightrope that could toss her off if someone breathed just a little too hard? No, it was a terrible idea. She didn’t need Lane to tell her that.
But what was she gonna do, tell Lane the truth? The whole of it all?
God, no, what a terrible idea that would be. Because then he’d start asking questions like, ‘what were you thinking when you decided to move forward’ and ‘how do you think you can communicate effectively so this situation doesn’t hurt anyone’s feelings’ and ‘why do you think you felt like the only option you had to get a surgical referral was to literally marry an entire man’, and Alana did not have any interest in answering any of those questions at all.
She also didn’t want to talk about this with Shannon, who was going through her own shit right now, but would not for a second let Alana get away with worming around straight answers. Which was why she promptly changed the subject any time Shannon asked. She was sure Shannon had caught on to it, but hadn’t called her out on it yet.
She was fine, though. Everything was fine.
Everything was super normal and she wasn’t going to overthink any of it, and she was just going to carry on–
“Hey,” Hudson walked into the apartment, his arms full of bags. “I may have purchased things we didn’t need at Trader Joe’s.”
“It’s like Target,” Alana said, getting off the couch to go help him. “Trader Joe’s tells you what you need.”
“Apparently we needed two new spice blends and three different carbonated beverages.” Hudson heaved the bags onto the kitchen counter. “Next time I hope Mr. Joe tells me I need lighter things.”
It was appalling how attractive she found him, standing sheepishly in front of the spice rack, trying to rearrange so he could make room for the new containers. He was just there and Alana wanted to rip his pants off and do things that would make the neighbors across the street at their level either call the cops or buy binoculars.
“What?” Hudson said.
“Sorry, I was just perving over you,” Alana said. “And wondering if the neighbors would be able to see if I sucked you off here.”
Hudson’s eyes darkened. “I would say that’s a scientific experiment we should try, but I don’t know how I feel about the old guy watching you go down on me.” He paused. “There are also some things that should be put into the freezer.”
“And you have something that should be put into my freezer,” Alana said.
“Not if you’re calling it a freezer, I don’t,” Hudson replied, pulling out a bag of frozen edamame from the bag.
“I take it back?” Alana offered. “And I can also take your pants. Not back. I can just take them.”
“Does therapy always make you horny?” he asked.
“Not particularly.”
“So today’s just special?”
“Why so many questions?”
“I dunno, just wondering what the change of mood is about. Not that you need a reason or anything. When you came home before you had said, and I quote, ‘Everything is too much work for me to do tonight, it’s a shame I think all protein shakes taste like ass’. And then we discussed how many asses you had tasted, and you offered to taste mine, even though we both know you didn’t actually mean it.”
“Okay, first of all, I definitely meant it,” Alana said. “And I guess I got a second wind? I purged all my problems and now I’m sexy and free?”
“I don’t think that’s how therapy works,” Hudson said, handing her a bag of vegetable stock to put on the storage shelves they used as a pantry. “Although maybe Freud wished it was.”
“If you’re not in the mood,” Alana said, “you can always say no. I won’t be offended or anything.”
And really, she wouldn’t. He’d always been incredibly thoughtful about her ever-fluctuating ability and want to get fucked silly, and never once made her feel guilty for having to change things up mid-penetration, or even to stop entirely.
If he told her that he never wanted to sleep with her again, would she be upset then?
Duh.
Hudson gathered her into his arms. “I know,” he said, rocking them both gently. “And trust me, I would. The same way I know you would, too. But I literally was just curious.”
Alana dropped her head on his chest. “I know. Sometimes I can’t turn off the overanalyzing part of my therapy brain for a bit.” She grinned. “Do you know what would help that situation?”
“You waltzed beautifully into that.”
“Thanks, I tried.” Alana reached under his t-shirt, and unerringly, found her way to his surgery scars. It was probably weird that they were her little spot of self-soothing. Shannon held crystals, Ophelia did tapping, and apparently Alana rubbed Hudson’s chest.
“Well, if you meant it when you said you wanted to lick my ass, I better go shower so you can.”
“Ooh, shower sex?” Alana said, her lips twitching.
“You’re cute. Our shower is the size of a small soup bowl, and neither of us have the core strength for the acrobatics that would be necessary to fuck in the there.”
“I know. But also, we can try?”
“We’re not ending up on Sex Sent Me To The ER, Alana Rose.”
“Why do you know about that show?” Alana demanded. Neither of them had moved from the spot against the kitchen counter.
“Because my mom is still a nurse, and she did use it as a methodology for sex ed.”
“You’re lying.”
“I would never. It was part of the ‘you can experiment all you want as long as it’s consensual and safe, and part of being safe is not shoving things into people’s orifices that don’t belong there’ conversation.” He shrugged. “It worked. I’ll never shove a lightbulb in anyone’s ass, no matter how much they beg.”
“Luckily for you, I have no interest in being penetrated with a lightbulb,” Alana said.
“Not that I was worried, but thanks for confirming.”
Hudson was on his hands and knees on Alana’s bed, and doing a valiant job of trying to keep the minimum amount of precum from dripping down onto her sheets. “Almost there,” he panted.
Alana hummed, and tightened her grip on his cock.
“Absolutely not. No more wet spots,” Hudson said, and gently but firmly dislodged Alana. “We literally just did laundry, and there are only so many pairs of sheets here.”
“How are you so coherent?” Alana panted, her eyes glazed.
“Talent.” Hudson loomed on top of her. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that extremely long double-sided dildo you took out. Where the hell did you get that from?”
“The internet, duh. To make a point, but then I kept it. It also vibrates.”
“Fuck, we’re gonna have to do laundry again,” Hudson sighed, leaning over to grab it and the lube.
“We should order a liner,” Alana said as Hudson reached down to start prepping her. “Wait, my ass, too?”
“Makes sense, and then just in case you aren’t up for anything else, we can stop there.”
“I’m good with more,” Alana said, squirming a little as Hudson slowly added another finger. “Had I known we were doing this, I would have showered, too.”
“Next time,” Hudson said, passing her the lube so she could prep him.
Alana was debating whether she should be trying to find his prostate or just stretch him enough for the dildo to do the work, when Hudson began to slide the dildo into her ass. She breathed out slowly, trying to adjust. Once he added his cock, she was going to be stuffed full, and she couldn’t wait.
Sometimes the thought of a threesome sounded like fun, but then Alana remembered that she’d have to be fucking two men, and that was too many for her at a time. This, she thought with a small giggle, was a happy medium.
“Ready?” Hudson asked.
“So ready.” Alana panted.
Hudson slid into her, the stretch making her groan. “You good, baby?”
“So full.” Alana grinned up at him, hazy-eyed and so incredibly turned on. “You better hurry and catch up.”
“You’re not going anywhere until I get there, too,” Hudson said, reaching behind himself to finish inserting the other end of the dildo into his ass. “Fuck, it’s been a while.”
“Same,” Alana said, trying to keep herself together.
And then Hudson turned on the vibrating part.
“Fuck,” he groaned, and began to fuck Alana in earnest. The combination of the dual penetration and knowing that Hudson was also getting fucked simultaneously was enough to send her over the edge. “Not yet,” Hudson panted.
“Please?”
“No.” He fucked her harder, before reaching over to turn up the dildo. “Not yet.”
“You’re just being mean.”
“I know.” Hudson changed the angle just slightly, making her whimper.
“This might be a…act first apologize later…kind of situation…” Alana panted, anchoring her hands in his chest hair. “Just…so you’re aware.”
Hudson nipped at her shoulders. “Now.”
“For someone who said they didn’t like getting sweaty…” Hudson began a little bit later, tracing patterns on Alana’s arm.
“If there was a way to have sex and not sweat, I would be down to try it,” Alana said, curled up into him. “I’d be down to go to the ice hotel to try, but then I’d be scared that a part of me would freeze to the ice and then someone would have to like, I dunno, take a blow dryer to the hotel to get me unstuck and would end up toppling the entire structure.”
“Me telling you about the structural integrity of the ice hotel isn’t going to rid you of this specific thought, will it?”
“Not even a little.”
“I wouldn’t want to have sex in the ice hotel because frozen cum sounds like a terrible idea.”
Alana buried her face into his neck and giggled. “Why have either of us spent this much time contemplating having sex in any ice hotel?”
“Rock, paper, scissors, whoever loses has to ask their therapist?” Hudson suggested.
“No deal. I can live without knowing.”
“Or you’re just too chicken to ask yours,” Hudson countered.
“Just for that, you ask your therapist,” Alana said.
“We can also just get some ice cubes from the freezer.”
“Why would we do that?”
“How do you feel about exposure therapy?” Hudson asked, tilting her face up so he could kiss her. “Alternatively, a very basic science lesson on the temperature that water melts?”
Alana pursed her lips, which just made Hudson kiss her again.
“For science, I suppose I can try,” she said.