10 - Fallon
~ 10 ~
FALLON
For the first few days after my conversation with Dalton, I floated around on cloud nine. I was getting what I’d always wanted, and I was doing it with one of my favorite people in the world. It was going to be fucking amazing. No, beyond fucking amazing. It was going to be a life-changing, earth-shattering event, crashing full speed into the boring wasteland of my previous sex life.
As the end of the week grew nearer, however, I began to get nervous.
There were times when I convinced myself it was no big deal. That it was only sex with two guys, which was just one more than normal. One of them was a friend — and more recently, a shower buddy — and the other was someone I’d already slept with. Both were men I knew, respected, trusted. So really, no biggie, right?
But there were other times when I’d think about it, and my stomach would tie itself into dirty little knots. Could I handle it? Would I perform okay? And what would happen afterward, when the whole thing was finished, and the deed was finally done?
Each night I found myself alone in bed, my hand wandering down the flat of my stomach, my fingers piercing the delicate waistband of whichever poor panties I happened to be soaking through. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d gotten off this week, just imagining what Friday would be like. It got to the point where I had to stop myself from going to the well too often, for fear of being sore before the guys could make me sore.
Unlike the previous week, I actually enjoyed school, the work involved, and everything else in between. I saw a few more apartments, including one that was hopeful, and surprised the guys with dinner on two separate occasions. I also tutored Trey on the classes in question, helping him catch up on a series of math assignments as well as request a re-test for one of his more egregious failures.
All in all, it was a pretty good week.
The guys had been more than generous in letting me stay, especially Dalton, who’d given up the couch for an air mattress in Emerson’s room. In return I helped them wherever I could, cleaning things up, wiping things down, and generally fixing whatever clutter resulted from the non-stop construction zone. The guys’ near boundless energy made me jealous at times. They’d come home from practice and work a few hours here, a few hours there, sometimes not finishing whatever project they were into until midnight or beyond.
That part made me wonder about Friday all over again. Could I really keep up with them? After all, I was only one person. How would the night start? How would it end? Whose bed would it take place in, and how would I know whether to—
“Hey, wallflower.”
I turned away from the kitchen sink at the sound of Emerson’s voice. For once, he had all his clothes on.
“Nuke a bag of popcorn for us?”
I nodded, and he poked his head back into the living room. I’d spent the whole week wondering if Emerson knew. But of course he knew, right? It’s not like Dalton was going to spring it on him last minute. The hard part was keeping a straight face around them both, now that we all knew what was going to happen. I could barely even look at Trey, who was oblivious to the whole thing, all smiles and winks and constant teddy bear happiness.
The microwave beeped, and I opened the bag of buttery steam without scalding myself. I found Emerson and Dalton on either end of the couch, propped up on their elbows, watching some dark, weird-looking movie.
“I live to serve,” I smiled, handing them the popcorn. A loud shriek turned me in the direction of the screen. Some sort of crazy-looking wolf creature was screaming into the camera.
“What the hell are you watching?”
“The Thing,” said Dalton. He patted the empty spot between them. “Come on. Take a load off.”
I sank dramatically into the soft, worn leather, and my legs instantly thanked me. It had been a long day for everyone. The boys had celebrated the end of an extended practice with a solid two and half hours of ripping sheetrock and prying nails. Trey was already face-down in his bed, snoring away. I could hear him through the wall of my bedroom while studying.
“What is that?” I asked, wrinkling my nose. “A wolf, or a dog, or—”
Dalton casually tossed popcorn into his mouth. “It’s an alien.”
“But why is it ripping its own head off?”
“Stop asking questions,” grunted Emerson, “or we’ll send you back to the kitchen for drinks.”
I was too tired to get up again, and not really thirsty. I would get them drinks anyway though, if they wanted them. The boys had been more than good to me, the whole time I’d been here. I’d do just about anything they asked.
My body gave off a shiver, and Dalton grabbed the throw blanket from the back of the couch. I smiled in thanks as he draped it over me.
“And so now they just killed it with a flamethrower?” I asked, looking back at the screen. “That’s it? It’s dead?”
“No, that’s not it.”
“But I just saw it die.”
“It replicated itself,” Emerson said impatiently. “That was just a copy.”
I squinted at the television. “Wait, what?”
I was fucking around with him, of course. I didn’t care at all about the movie, but it was fun to mess with Emerson. He could dish it out, but I knew he could also take it.
“So if it copied itself—”
“Pretty sure we told you, no more questions,” he growled throatily.
I felt his hand clamp down on my thigh. It was under the blanket. Invisible to everyone.
But I could feel the heat of his fingers, pressing into my soft, supple skin.
“Funny you should use the word ‘we’,” I shot back playfully. “Dalton’s being cool. You were the one movie-bullying me.”
“Movie-bullying?”
“Yes,” I teased. “That’s what happens when… I—I mean…”
My voice trailed off abruptly, ending almost in a whisper. It wasn’t because the hand on my thigh had slid a few inches north of where it originally was, although it most certainly had. No, my sentence died before I could finish it because now there was another hand on my other thigh… and that hand belonged to Dalton.
In light of these very recent events, I decided to keep my mouth shut.
My sweatshorts were loose, especially around the legs. When I first got here I’d been mindful of such things. But now, after all this time around the guys, I’d just gotten comfortable.
The movie played on. A blizzard blew snow against some remote arctic station on the television, as the fingers of two different hands crawled their way slowly upward. I eased back into the couch, the sharp creak of the leather sounding almost like laughter, as if it knew my intentions. Ever so slowly, I let my legs drift apart.
In the meantime, the guys shifted surreptitiously closer. Their eyes never left the screen, but their hands moved independently beneath the sanctity of our now-shared blanket. It was Emerson who touched me first. I jumped as his thumb brushed my panty-covered mound, which by now was easily soaked through.
Holy shit.
Dalton’s fingers found me next, and I bit my lip as he went straight for my clit. He rubbed it so lightly, so gently, I wanted to bury my face in my arm and scream. His fingers soon joined his friend’s at my swollen entrance, and Emerson pulled the fabric aside for him, so he could glide unfettered through my slick folds.
My breathing was rapid now. With each shuddering breath, my chest rose and fell. There was no doubt as to what was going on beneath the blanket, and no pretense of secrecy. But there was also no acknowledgment. No words, no sideways glances; to any outsider looking in we were merely three people intently watching a horror movie, our popcorn totally forgotten.
The boys took turns fingering me as a team, plunging away, drilling their deliciously thick digits in and out of my fiery core. At times one would stop momentarily, to bring his hand up and feed me my own sex. I let them slowly push those fingers past my wet lips, dragging them against my tongue so I could taste my own desire before slipping beneath the blanket again, and plunging them back inside.
It was all I could do not to scream. Somehow I prevented myself from whimpering or even moaning, fearing that even the quietest of sounds might break the spell of silent indifference we were all pretending to be under. I sighed headily, though, as the speed and intensity picked up. And I sucked on their fingers the way I intended to suck their throbbing members, taking them deep and hard into the depths of my eager mouth.
Eventually I was squirming and rolling my hips, gasping quietly as they tortured me beneath the blanket. I tried reaching for them, but any attempts to touch them were fended off quickly by their own strong hands. I was left breathless and helpless, with nothing to do but lay back as they fingered me to what promised to be an explosive orgasm…
And then, just as I was about to beg them to let me come… they stopped.
Alarm bells flashed through my head. Did I do something wrong? Was someone coming, or—
They stood up together as a team, leaving me throbbing and soaked, beneath the blanket. Emerson stretched his mighty arms toward the ceiling, then dropped the TV remote in my lap. Just before they walked away, Dalton leaned down, buried his face in my disheveled hair, and whispered a single, breathy word into my ear.
“Friday…”