Almost Ordinary #2
Oh, this is perfect.
I have never in my life felt anything like this. Wrapped on every side, walled in soft, buried in the smell of them, the last of the tension finally draining out of my shoulders. Nothing can get to me in here. Nothing can even see me.
This is what heaven feels like.
Suddenly very tired, I roll onto my side, tucking Nico's shirt up under my chin. I snuggle in, curling my legs up. and that's when I see it.
There’s a piece of paper sitting against the dark of the closet floor, wedged into the far corner. It’s a photo, face-up, half-hidden in shadow.
I stretch an arm out and pinch it between two fingers, dragging it toward me. It's too dim back here to make out. So I push up onto one elbow and hold it toward the thin band of light spilling in from the bedroom.
And my brain short-circuits at what I’m looking at.
It's Owen.
The beta has his legs wrapped around a waist that isn't Nico's. Blond hair, broad back, one big hand splayed across Owen's thigh to hold him up.
Mack.
Owen's got both hands buried in Mack's blond hair, and they're kissing like the camera isn't even there, like nothing exists but each other.
I stare at it, trying to will my mind into believing this isn’t what it looks like, but there's no innocent way to read a man kissing someone who isn't his husband with his legs locked around him.
Is Owen cheating on Nico? With Mack?
The thought turns my stomach. Owen isn’t that kind of man. He’s loyal and sweet and good.
There has to be a reason. Maybe they’re ex-boyfriends…or…something.
My head whips around the little space like there might be an explanation hanging on the wall. And that's when I spot the plastic bin on the shelf above me, shoved back against the rod, the lid not quite snapped down. I can see papers and photos, maybe.
Don't do it, Lyra. This is an invasion of their privacy.
My mother's voice slices through my head right on cue. We do not go through other people's things, Lyra. It's the behavior of servants and thieves.
I pull the bin down anyway.
It's heavier than I expect, and I settle it into my lap, prying the lid off with shaking fingers.
The top of it is all paperwork with Adrian's name on everything.
Adrian Thomas Bennett, over and over. There are tax forms. A folder from a carpenters' apprenticeship.
A stack of expired rental agreements held together with a rusting paperclip.
Boring, ordinary paperwork from an ordinary life.
I almost put the box back.
But my fingers keep digging, down past the documents to a thick stack of photographs at the very bottom, edges soft from handling.
I lift them into the light.
They’re pictures obviously taken during a camping trip.
There’s a lake somewhere, big trees crowding the shore, and a firepit ringed in stones. Nico, Owen, Adrian, and Mack are in every frame.
Adrian and Mack roasting something over the fire, shoulders pressed together.
Nico laughing with his head thrown back, Owen tucked under his arm.
Owen again, asleep in a hammock with his glasses crooked, and Mack caught mid-motion pulling a blanket over him.
And then the ones underneath.
They were taken in the same place, inside the tent, but the light is low and golden.
I glance at the people in the top picture, then immediately look away, my eyes snapping up to the row of hanging shirts like they've done something interesting.
Was that a penis? That was definitely a penis. It had to be a penis. Right?
While I’ve never actually seen one in person, I’m pretty sure that’s what I saw.
For a moment, I hold very still, staring at a flannel sleeve, giving myself a stern and dignified lecture about privacy and boundaries and not wanting to be the kind of woman who rifles through someone else’s most personal photographs uninvited.
The lecture lasts approximately two seconds.
Because I'm only human, and there is a naked man in my hand, and I have the moral fortitude of a raccoon.
I look back down.
Owen is completely naked in the photo in my hand, sitting back against Nico.
The alpha is on his knees behind Owen, one arm wrapped tight around the beta’s chest, holding him up.
His hips are pushed forward, the powerful muscles of his thighs flexed.
Owen's head is thrown back against Nico's shoulder, his mouth open on a silent cry, his face filled with pure pleasure.
Then I let my eyes catch on the space between his legs. On his penis. It’s hard and flushed, curving up toward his stomach, the tip glistening with moisture.
I've never seen a naked man before. Ever.
My eyes go wide as I drink it all in, my breath catching in my throat.
A hot flush climbs my neck and spreads across my cheeks, a sharp, embarrassing heat.
I can't look away from the intimate shape of him, from the clear evidence of his pleasure, and my own body gives a strange, unfamiliar clench deep inside.
"So that’s what a penis looks like," I whisper to myself, then I frown.
No. That's not right. Nobody sexy says penis. It sounds like something a doctor writes on a chart.
"Cock," I say the word out loud, and immediately the heat in my face doubles, like my mother might somehow hear me from across the city.
I've read the word plenty of times, tucked inside the paperbacks I smuggled past her, but I've never once had cause to use it, and I'm honestly not certain I'm doing it right.
But looking at this picture, penis feels like a genuine insult.
"Cock," I say again, admiring Owen's lean, muscular body a moment longer before I flick to the next picture.
This one is of Mack and Adrian.
Mack is on his back, legs spread wide, while Adrian is settled between them. Adrian's back is a beautiful, tight curve of muscle as he drives into Mack.
One of Mack's big hands is tangled in Adrian's hair, the other gripping Adrian's hip, guiding him.
My gaze drops to Mack's cock, and my eyes go wide all over again. It's shockingly huge, a thick, heavy club lying against his stomach. The sheer size of it is almost intimidating, the head flushed a deep, angry purple and leaking a clear fluid onto his skin.
I thought Owen's looked big, but Mack is very…different.
A strange, dizzying heat washes over me, and I have to force myself to keep breathing.