Chapter 2 #4
Great, Blake thinks, as “Ava” reveals the prize pot of one hundred thousand dollars, something they all already knew about going in. The rest of the cast screams and squeals, cheers and high-fives anyway, and Blake does his best to at least plaster a look of shock on his mug.
“Okay, but what do we actually have to do to win the money?” That question comes from Dani, and Blake sits up a little straighter, paying attention. No one’s touched on that in their pre-filming interviews, as far as he knows.
“There are conditions to your stay here,” Ava continues, as dramatically as an AI can get. “You must abstain from any sexual practices for the entirety of your stay.”
Whomp, there it is. Blake can practically feel the mounting excitement and energy drain immediately from the air around them.
He should have fucking known — of course this was too good to be true.
Next to him, Paxton takes his hand back and sits forward, elbows on his knees and hands on his face. Ariana hollers in frustration.
“That means no kissing, no heavy petting, nor sex of any kind. This will also apply to self-gratification,” Ava says.
“Fuck,” Blake murmurs quietly. “Should have rubbed one out yesterday.”
But Ava isn’t done. “Money will be deducted from the prize for any sexual activity that occurs.” That gets an even more bummed reaction from the group, with assorted groaning and facepalming all around.
“Welcome to the Retreat,” Ava says calmly, and then her purple glow flares and disappears.
“Jesus, fuck,” Blake declares before sinking back into the couch cushions with an arm over his face. “Well, there’s the twist.”
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Before they’re allowed to go to bed, the producers force each cast member to film their individual reactions to Ava’s news one-on-one.
Blake proudly announces to the camera lens that he’s a rule-breaker and has zero intention of behaving.
He also declares that he’s lived his whole life without money and that he’s not going to start chasing it over his own wants and needs now.
“Besides,” he says. “Pax is once-in-a-lifetime sexy. Can’t buy that kind of experience, not even with a hundred k.
I’d be an absolute idiot to pass that up. ”
On his way out of the fabric-draped booth that production has created as a sort of confessional, Blake runs into the man himself.
The way Pax acts when he lays eyes on him only affirms Blake’s words to their invisible audience.
Pax touches his cheek, winks, and lets his torso rub against Blake’s as he slips inside.
Oh, yeah. Rules, what rules?
There’s some confusion in the shared bedroom when Blake enters, with cast members yelling across the divide between beds about what exactly the rules are and where the boundaries lie.
Vincent is standing on the corner of his bed, scowling and berating anyone who even passively suggests it might be worth it to break some.
“I’m here to win,” he declares, punching a fist into his opposite palm.
“Anyone who messes with my money ain’t gonna like what happens to them.
” Below him, Amber rolls her eyes before flopping down on her bed.
“You hear me, Lawrence? I see the way you’re lookin’ like you wanna unhinge your jaw and swallow Pax whole. I’m watchin’ you, boy.”
Blake makes a face. “You don’t know me, man.
I can keep my legs closed for a hundred k, easy.
I’m slutty, not stupid. Anyway, those two look like the real risk, if you ask me,” he says, tipping his chin towards where Ariana and Dani are laying together on Ariana’s bed.
The redhead grins back like the cat who stole the cream and Blake suppresses a smile while Vincent narrows his eyes, glaring suspiciously at all of them.
After the cameras have presumably recorded their fill of the reactionary chaos, Rachel comes in, climbs up on a chair, and gives them a much drier run-down of the rules and limits. “This is the twist,” she confirms, as if anyone was still wondering.
“No kissing, heavy petting, intimate touching, no masturbating or sex of any kind — assume that if there are genitals involved in any way, it’s off limits.
However,” she says, with a very dramatic pause.
“Intimacy is not banned. Hand-holding, cuddling, snuggling, hugging — consider all of those things in the good-touch club. You may sleep in the same bed, you can even shower together — at your own risk, of course. If you cross a line, even accidentally, there are no second chances. Various rule breaches come with different monetary deductions, which you will only discover the value of should they occur. Any questions?”
There are so many questions, but not from Blake.
Exhausted, he kicks off his shoes, strips down to his boxers and leaves his clothes on the ground before crawling into bed.
Once his head hits the pillow, though, his brain refuses to turn off and the contents — well, let’s just say Blake wasn’t entirely honest in the confessional earlier.
Truthfully, he’s somewhat alarmed at the relief he felt in hearing Ava’s words.
Specially selected, she’d said, because they all fucking suck at relationships, apparently.
And this place… wants to help with that?
Blake should be pissed. He should be annoyed and frustrated and in pain from his mounting (lack of mounting) blue balls, but when he tries to summon those feelings, all he can see behind his closed lids are Pax’s beautiful blue eyes.
He barely dares to hope, but he also can’t lie to himself, either.
Blake is relieved.
He still wants Pax, of course he does. Hell, if Pax tried to bend him over right now, with everything at stake and all of their cast-mates watching, Blake would do it, no questions asked.
Fuck rules, and Ava, and the money. If there was any truth to his on-camera interview, it revolved around his feelings on that.
Sure, claiming a piece of the prize pot would have been nice, and Blake will be returning home to a whole other set of issues if he doesn’t, but nothing that didn’t exist before he signed on for this shit-show.
Plus, they’re all still getting per diem payments just for being here, so either way, Blake won’t be leaving completely empty-handed.
And then there’s Pax.
Logically, Blake knows it’s borderline insanity to think about Pax as something he could potentially “leave here with.” Logically, being the key word.
Beyond the fact that Pax isn’t a thing at all — and that Blake’s just tonight done a total one-eighty on his entire romantic philosophy based on the advice of a glorified computer — they’ve only known each other for less than a day.
What are the chances that whatever instant connection the two of them might have felt even survives the night, never mind the return to the real world?
All Blake knows for sure is that Pax wanted to sleep with him, and now that’s supposed to be off the table. In no way, shape, or form does he have any idea what comes next.
When the lights in the room dim, Blake’s still lost in his head.
Tired and picking discordantly over the various emotions pulling him in opposite directions, he barely notices when the mattress next to him dips.
Blake’s hands are tucked behind his head, eyes trained on the now-extinguished lights in the ceiling, so he starts a little when he looks over and sees Pax staring back.
Even in the near-dark, with shadows distorting the curves of his face, Pax is attractive.
The sharp cut of his jaw, the smooth line of his neck, the brightness in his eyes when the light from the cracked bathroom door catches them — and Blake wants.
His gaze is unwittingly drawn to the bruising just over Pax’s pulse point, marks left from his own mouth making Blake instantly flash back to the taste of Pax’s salty skin on his tongue.
The way Pax’s toned body felt pressed against his, how he arched up against Blake, and — dammit.
They should have moved faster. At least gotten each other’s clothes off before they were Ava-blocked.
Although, now — Blake tips his head in consideration.
Pax is stripped down to his underwear, just like Blake.
Except, Pax is wearing orange bikini-style briefs with a design that looks semi-obscene decorating the front.
Blake squints and looks closer; it’s the ass-end of a bee, complete with giant stinger.
He startles again when Paxton laughs, not realizing that he’d leaned in somewhat intrusively towards Paxton’s barely-clothed groin without so much as an invitation.
Though arguably, Pax showing up mostly-naked in his bed is exactly that.
“Careful,” Paxton rumbles quietly, like he’s afraid he’s going to disturb their softly-chatting bunkmates, but he’s clearly amused. “Any closer and you might cost us money.”
“Might be worth it,” Blake challenges, without really thinking about what he’s saying.
He relaxes back into his pillow again and quirks an eyebrow that he hopes Paxton can see in the low light.
He probably can, since Blake can easily discern the cluster of bees flying upward out of Paxton’s waistband and over his right flank, towards a ridiculously pretty grouping of purple-blue flowers on his lower ribs.
What a weirdo, Blake thinks affectionately.
“The front of the bee is on my ass,” Paxton says bluntly, and Blake just blinks back at him, confused.
“The bee,” he repeats, gesturing to his underwear and then turning around and sticking his backside out in Blake’s direction.
Sure enough, a smiling cartoon bee grins gleefully from the stretched cotton, and Blake’s never been so jealous of something that doesn’t actually exist before.
Apparently, those loose linen pants did a great job of hiding what Pax is packing, and Blake has to work not to drool over (or dive forward and sink his teeth into) those curves.