Twenty-Four
OREN
We’re actually battling today. But this is also the first day that I’m seeing Albie in…
okay, not in person. It’s still virtual.
But we’re streaming together while we play.
He’s this adorable, soft man with hair that looks like silk.
I want to run my hands through it. He has it brushed off to the side with a few strands hanging over his forehead.
And his eyes! They’re the lightest, most unique shade of baby blue I’ve ever seen.
There are pictures circulating all over the internet of Albie. It comes with the territory of being engaged to a real-life prince. But I feel like so many images are photoshopped. Like, I recognized him from the hundreds of images I’ve seen online, and yet he looks completely… real. Better.
He’s not wearing anything fancy. Just a white sleeveless shirt and a delicate gold chain. I can’t see what’s on the pendant, since it’s tucked under his shirt. He’s quick to smile and it’s just cute!
“I saw that Cheldor was removed from the game,” Albie says as the four of us—Huntley and Shelton, included—move around the troll to take him down from all sides.
“I got a notification about it,” I say while barely moving my avatar out of the way before he’s squashed like a bug. “The cheats he was using were…” I shake my head. “Extensive. You should have seen the log.”
“That bad, huh?” Huntley asks.
“It was pages . Typically, at most, we see a page. Usually, it’s several paragraphs. Cheldor’s was a novella. It was incredible.”
“Do they give you the cheats?” Albie asks.
I nod. “Yeah. As another means to compare code. I haven’t seen half of those cheats before, so I appreciate seeing them.”
“You going to keep modding?” Shelton asks.
The troll is screaming in fury now. I hear the clacking of several keyboards along with mine and smile. “I don’t know. For now.”
“What do you want to do? If you could do anything, what would it be?” Albie asks.
“You mean besides be a live-in housetwink to a prince?”
He snickers. “That job is taken.”
We laugh. “I don’t know. I like gaming and I enjoy modding. While I have no true concept of expenses, I imagine I don’t make enough money to live on. Just another thing I haven’t thought about.”
“What other things have come up that you haven’t thought about?” Shelton asks.
“Clothes,” I whine. “Adak took me shopping for like seven hours the other day. You know what I came home with? Socks. Just socks.” I don’t count the shirt since I’m considering returning it.
“Ah, boo. I’ll help you shop,” Huntley says.
“Speaking of shopping and clothes… you should have a box at your door.”
My gaze flickers to the screen where my three friends can be seen in real-time. It’s late morning here in southern California so it’s evening in Mrandek. I frown. “What makes you think I have a package?”
It’s then that the doorbell rings. Albie grins, his brows wiggling on his head. “Call it a hunch.”
I frown at him and pause the game so my shifter doesn’t die while I get up. Putting my headset down, I head for the stairs and the door. Sure enough, I see a box sitting there. It’s not small, either.
With a glance around the yard, I disarm the alarm and open the door to grab it. It’s also not light. I sigh as I bring it in and then reset the alarm. After another peek outside, I heft the box up the stairs to my desk and drop it in my chair.
Pulling my headphones on, I say, “How did you even get my address?”
All three faces are grinning at me.
“Me,” Shelton says.
“How did you get it?”
He just shrugs.
“You’re with a celebrity. Paparazzi know where you live, boo,” Huntley says.
I wince. My gaze moves to the windows. I’m not facing the street, but the neighbors on this side of the house as a shudder trickles down my back.
So far, there’s been no sign of my brothers or father around here.
I’d like to think they’d not actually come onto private property or stalk the house, but… I just don’t know.
“Didn’t mean to freak you out,” Huntley says. “Sorry. You have a security system. You’re safe.”
Living in fear is exhausting.
With a deep breath, I look at the box and then frown at Albie. “What did you send that weighs as much as I do?”
The three of them are grinning again, and I get the impression that this was a group effort. I’m not feeling good about this.
“Open it,” Albie says.
At this point, I’m confident that no one is playing right now.
Warily, I pull open the drawer in the desk. Sure enough, I find scissors and start sawing away at the thick tape covering nearly every square inch of the box. It’s covered in tape that reads ‘priority’ ‘fragile’ ‘airmail’ ‘royal mail’ and a whole slew of different shipping labels.
Apparently shipping overseas is complicated.
After several minutes, during which I’m sure I procure half a dozen paper cuts, I manage to open the box. The contents are neatly secured under tissue paper and then I find bubble wrap.
“How many layers are we talking?” I ask as I carefully use the scissors to pry open the bubble wrap.
“More than necessary but shipping is horrendous and while these aren’t technically fragile, I didn’t want someone playing kickball with the box,” Albie says. “They can be ruined.”
“You should see the state of some of the boxes I get at the shop,” Shelton says. “Greta is on a first name basis with our mail delivery people at this point. She has a look that she gives them, and they cower.”
“Hey, whatever it takes. Carriers might have a tireless and thankless job, but they have job security, get paid really good wages, and have some of the best benefits. The fact that our mail gets treated like hell is truly unacceptable.”
I believe that. I’ve seen Greta’s look and though it wasn’t directed at me, I still felt the chill.
Finally, I make it beyond the packing and I’m staring at… “You sent me clothes?”
Albie grins. “Yes. I didn’t know you were struggling with shopping when we started talking about what kinds of things to send you. But we were excited that you get to build your own identity and wanted to give you an ‘I get to live now’ gift.”
I’d like to continue to scowl at them for mailing me something, but… I’m seriously touched by the thought that went into it. “Thanks,” I say.
“Don’t thank us yet,” Huntley says with a smirk, and I groan. “Look at what we sent.”
The first few items I feel underwhelmed by. Not that they’re not gorgeous and made of material I want to rub all over my body, but Huntley’s warning has me on edge and I’m let down.
I pull out a jacket and it’s honestly the best thing I’ve ever seen.
“You follow more than just Anaheim, right?” Albie asks. “In hockey?”
“I don’t know that I follow hockey at all,” I say, hugging the jacket to my chest and petting it like a dog. “It was a lifestyle forced on me. Why?”
“So there’s a player in New York and his boyfriend literally just opened a shop. I scored the first purchase,” Albie says with a wide smile. “It’s upcycled clothing and they’re just divine.”
“You paid for shipping to Mrandek just to send it back to the US?” Shelton asks.
Albie shrugs. “I’m marrying a prince. I have an allowance.”
Shelton and Huntley cackle.
“Keep looking,” Albie says, grinning.
Next are pants that I don’t find very exciting. They’re just pants.
“Okay, we’re getting to the good stuff!” Albie says, rubbing his hands together.
I peer into the box. The next thing looks… like there’s not a lot of material. Reaching in, it takes me a second to let the article reveal what it is. They’re… leggings. But far too small.
“I can’t fit into these.”
He laughs. “Honey, leggings stretch. And those will make your ass—” He gives me a chef’s kiss. “Trust me. Wear them for your man.”
I flush as I set them aside. My man doesn’t work like that. Even as I pull out the next item blindly, I think about what Adak said. “It doesn’t mean I’m not attracted to you in my own way.”
Since getting with Adak and being in his home where I’m free to look up whatever I want online, I’ve done some research on asexuality.
It’s actually really amazing to read about.
Some of what I read kind of resonates with me, but…
I think I’m more on the light gray side.
I don’t know that I’d identify as asexual in the grand scheme of things, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see myself in some of those behaviors and traits.
The next thing is a pair of shorts. Though I think they’re made for a three-year-old. No matter which way I twist them, I think they landed in here by mistake.
“Trust me. Henrik can’t keep his hands off me when I wear my booty shorts,” Albie says.
Maybe I should tell him Adak’s asexual. Though I can’t imagine they don’t know with how many pride posts have been all over the internet to counteract my father’s crap. It’s not just the general rainbow pride but also specifically asexual pride. It wouldn’t be hard to make the connection.
Without comment, I set them aside. With my lip between my teeth, I’m slightly horrified at the next half a dozen things that I pull out. Lingerie. Most of which I’m not sure was actually designed for a man downstairs.
I quickly dump them on the table and continue, but the contents don’t get better for a while. There’s underwear that are barely there. And a Speedo. Jock straps. Lace things that I don’t want to even look at.
Finally, I get back to normal clothes. When I’ve emptied the box, Huntley says, “What are you going to try on first?”
“Oh no,” I say. “You will never see me in most of this.” I’m never wearing most of this!
Huntley sighs. “Aww come on, Oren. You’re going to be so hot!”
“Some things are allowed to stay private,” Albie says, chiding Huntley.
“Oren, I wasn’t trying to overstep or make you uncomfortable.
I wanted to show you what’s out there. Until you said something today, I didn’t know you were struggling to find clothes you are comfortable in and maybe you won’t be in anything we sent, but I want you to see things that maybe you might not otherwise.
That’s all. I promise, there’s no pressure to wear it or like it or anything. I won’t be offended.”
I collapse into the chair and look at the mountain of clothes on the desk. It covers my keyboard and the entire surface. “Thank you,” I say after a minute. “It really means a lot that you did this. Even if I blushed like a child.”
Albie grins wickedly. “Trust me. I have experience in several of those.” He points to my pile. “That’s why I sent them. But there are things in there I’ve never had either. I tried to pull as many different things as I could think of. Just so you had options.”
“Thank you,” I say again and hope he hears how earnestly I mean it.
We don’t play anymore. Instead, we chat for the next hour until one by one, they have to go do various things. I sign off and then stare at the clothing before me. What am I going to do with these?
Getting to my feet, I scoop as much of them in my arms as I can and head for the bedroom where I deposit them on the bed. It takes two more trips to get them all. I’m not even sure how Albie managed to stuff it all into that single box.
I find the jacket right away and hang it up. Then I sort through the tops and hang them in no particular order. The pants are next. Then I shove all the lingerie in an empty drawer.
This leaves me staring at a bunch of random things. Those booty shorts. The leggings. The various pairs of underwear that make me blush. Balling the underwear into my hand, I turn for the closet to shove them into my underwear drawer. The back of the drawer.
One falls and I pluck it up. It’s a jockstrap. I chew my lip, unsure why I’m hesitating to hide them. My face scrunches and, before I know it, I’m chucking off my clothes and pulling them on. With my skin burning, I turn to look at myself in the mirror.
Well, there’s my dick. I can see the ridge of my crown through the thin fabric. Turning to the side, I look at my bare ass and how the straps seem to frame it in a perfect V of elastic.
I don’t look… horrible. Right? But do I look good? If I saw someone like this, would I think it was hot?
Peeking into the bedroom, I listen for movement. I’m not sure what time Adak will be home, but I don’t want to be traipsing around in a jockstrap when he does. It’s still silent, so I move quietly back into the bedroom.
The two items Albie seemed to love the most were the booty shorts and the leggings. I stare at them and eventually toss the shorts back onto the bed. With the leggings in hand, I step back into the closet and pull them on.
The fabric is soft and airy. It hugs my body like skin and feels magical under my hands. Once they’re in place—Albie’s right, they fit fine once they’re on my body—I look into the mirror and stare. Well… there’s my junk. Okay, maybe a jockstrap isn’t what you’re supposed to wear under leggings.
Twisting again, I look at my ass and suddenly it’s far more impressive. I’m not sure why, but I’m actually kind of surprised. The leggings somehow shape it and grip my ass so each cheek is prominent.
“Huh,” I say.
This shirt no longer looks right, so I pull it over my head and grab one that Albie sent. It’s short, barely reaching the waistband of the leggings, and loose. With long sleeves and silky as a cloud.
I stare at myself and… don’t recognize me. I’m not even sure my face looks the same.
“Look. At. You.”
I jump at Adak’s voice and stare at him with wide, horrified eyes. Hell! How did I not hear him come in?!
My skin heats, but then… the way he’s looking at me. He… likes it.
Adak holds his hand out and I place mine in his. He pulls me closer, spins me around slowly with my hand over my head. My skin is so fucking hot right now.
“How do you feel?” he asks.
When he’s looking at me like that? I feel beautiful. “Good,” I whisper.
His head tilts. “You sound unsure.”
“I also feel self-conscious,” I admit.
Adak nods. With his hand cupping the back of my head, he pulls me flush against him. His mouth covers mine, and he kisses me. It takes my breath away. “You’re stunning, Oren. Simply breathtaking.”
I shiver. “You like it?”
“A lot.”
A smile that feels a little more sure spreads.
“Come here. Let me touch you for a while.”
I’m not sure if I groan or whimper or whine, but yes, please. Oh, yes, please!