Chapter 13 - A triangle with four angles

REBECCA'S POV

"You've got everything?" Al asked as he popped up in my room. Turning around, I grinned, giving him thumbs up.

I think that, in the end, accepting to go with him to his hometown wasn't that bad of an idea, I mean, let alone that I've never ever left New York, it could do me some good, help me relax a little, and ... why not, erase the thoughts I've been having about killing Jerkface in his sleep. Very concrete thoughts, let me tell you.

Especially as he, every day this week, walked past me, scowling, as if it were my fault. I did sense the air was tense among the guys, but I only got to know why when Al confessed they talked about me that morning, and Byron and Will fought badly, both because of me and because of that Mel. That explains why haven't they been talking to each other this week, and why is Will sulkier, ruder and grumpier than usual with me.

He doesn't even spend a single minute with us anymore, he just comes back home, and locks himself up in his room, only to then stomp his way out to go to work, without a single word. Actually, I think that, if I've heard him utter a single word this week, it was a pure miracle, and if it was directed at me, it was only to tell me to shut up when I teased him about his pout.

I don't care if he gives me the silent treatment or glares and snarls at me every time he sees me, I really don't give a damn, but what I don't like is that the guys fought because of me. They're practically brothers, from what I hear, and I feel guilty because now two of those brothers won't even talk to each other and it's my fault. Al keeps telling me no, Byron confirmed it, but still.

By the way, I've been spending more time with Al this week. For some reason he always remained at home, keeping me company, especially because Byron has been doing a lot of overtime, so he came back late, which means that my normal routine, lounging in the living room with Bye, was broken, and that is how Al explains him remaining more home, to keep me company.

We've had a lot of fun, I'll admit that, he's such a goofball, but, surprisingly, there were no hot moments. Yeah, I wonder why too. I mean, yeah, Al kissed me now and then, groped me, we kinda lay on the couch together, his chest against my back, and he touched me a lot, but ... never went beyond base one. All he touched were my hips, sometimes daring to slip his hands beneath my shirt, or he fondled my butt, but nothing more than that.

Last night I tried provoking him a little, so, as we watched one of his idiotic comedies he loves so much, I pushed my butt against his crotch while he was busy keeping his hand on my stomach, kind of tickling me. In response, he growled, but said and did nothing. It's really weird, because, every single time, as we lay back like that, I could all too clearly feel his erection poking me. I came to think it was about Will and all that mess, but that would be absurd.

They know it's nothing serious with Will, we just hook up – well, not anymore, or not for the time being, at least not till he won't be adult and apologize for the way he treated me – there's nothing more than that, so why would Al worry about it? Hence, I swiftly deleted the thought, deeming myself as silly for even only daring think of it.

Yet it still remains that that sex fiend that Al is didn't try, one single time, to go past groping. Well, I guess I'll find out soon enough. We're heading to his hometown, and it'll be just the two of us, so ... I can test the waters ...

Now, Al entered, and picked my small suitcase, taking the chance to pinch my butt, gaining – obviously – a pinch on his, which had us both laugh as we headed out. Amazingly, it didn't take me long to persuade my boss to give me these couple of days off, but ... well, I guess it wasn't my merit, it was mostly Al with his dazzling smile when he came to the ice cream parlor on Monday and asked her on my behalf, pretending to be my boyfriend, and that he wanted his "sweetheart to get a bit of relax, considering she works so much". Such a charmer, isn't he?

No wonder he's got a collection of panties in his drawers, all ordered by flag. Yeah, I saw that. It was my turn to clean up and Al and I had made this deal, that if he persuaded my boss to let me go, when it was time, I would clean up his room along with mine and the rest of the apartment. 5

When I found those panties, I waited for him with a couple of those in hand – after having checked that they were clean – and teased him about it. Weirdly enough, he seemed a bit flustered, and admitted that was an old game he'd played during college, so I asked why didn't he get rid of those, and he shrugged, mentioning he would now. I wonder if it's only because he thought I was cross with him because of that.

It was Friday night, our flight got off in an hour and a half, at six pm (Al was even able to have my boss give me also Friday off), so we ought to get a move. We chose the plane because North Carolina is like ... 12 hours of car from New York, and that would have swallowed all of our weekend.

The flight will last two hours, yet I'm nervous, because I've never flown, but Al said he'd hold my hand, and I know he was only teasing me, but I actually count on that, honestly.

As we stepped into the living room, we heard the front door being opened, and I smiled when I saw Byron. "Finally! A time when you don't get off at midnight!" I beamed, clapping my hands, mocking him, which obviously gained me a dirty look, but it was easily replaced by a smile when I went over to him and hugged him, taking him off guard, though it didn't take him long to hug me back.

"Uh ... not that I don't like this, but ... why?" Bye questioned, baffled.

I giggled, nuzzling his chest. "I'm leaving for two days and I'm gonna miss you, silly boy." I admitted truthfully.

I've never parted from the guys ever since I came to live with them, and I already know it's gonna feel weird, even if only for two days, because, I mean, we've got an established routine: every night I get home, and Al is already there rummaging through the fridge, while Bye – aside from this week – comes back a few minutes later, then the three of us hang out in the living room as we eat dinner, and recount each other's day, joke and laugh together, sometimes even Jerkface deigns us of his presence, and I just love this.

When I admitted I'd miss him, Byron was bewildered, but in the end I yelped because he better squeezed me against him, lowering his lips so that they would faintly touch my ear – nothing sensual, just friendly – and he whispered only for me: "If Al hears me he's gonna tease me nonstop, but ... hell, I'm gonna miss you too, Rebbie."

I grinned, loving how could he be sweet just for me. The weird thing is, we've had sex – awesome sex, to be precise – yet we still have this brother-sister relationship, where he's so protective over me, and, while he's grumpy with the rest of the world, he's sweet just for me. It's weird, yet cute, really cute, because he looks like a tough big guy, but in the end he's a big adorable teddy bear. For me, at least.

Al soon cleared his throat, grumbling about us being too cheesy, which had me giggle, but I didn't pull back, and that called for Al being the goofball he is and coming to join our hug, so that we formed a human sized sandwich with me in the middle, which was weirdly comfortable more than just hilarious ... till Al decided to spoil it by making a dirty comment on how that was a great position to be in, so that Byron swiftly broke the hug, scowling at our friend.

"Bye, why don't you come with us?" I asked while swinging my purse over my shoulder. He seemed about to agree, but then he looked behind me and, giving me a small smile, he refused, saying he ought to work in the weekend too, I whined that he'd already worn himself out all week, but he shrugged, saying it was a tough case, and if he worked all weekend, he could quit doing overtime. I had to comply with that, but I gave him one last hug before leaving, repeating that I'd miss him, and indeed I would, he's my best friend, after all.

Once we reached it, Al called the elevator, and it came in a few seconds, but ... bringing an annoying face. Will merely grunted as he walked past us, not even saying goodbye nor anything.

I gazed at his tense back for a moment, wondering why was he such an asshole while his friends told me he used to be a great guy, I mean, sure, his ex messed with his head, yes, but Gee, get over it already. Or did he love her so much that he just can't forget her? I know something about that kind of love, so I guess I can sort of relate with him. Yet that still doesn't excuse his behavior. Ugh.

Without thinking of it too much, I stepped into the elevator with Al, my smile returning when I recalled I'd be spending a whole weekend with this crazy goofball that was now beside me, and it certainly would be a lot of fun, be it only because it's the first time ever that I leave New York.

***

"A quick warning, my elders are a little ... um ... uncommon." Al mentioned once we stepped out of the cab. When I looked up at the house, I understood what he meant. It looked like it had been hit by some mad force that had warped every inch of it, yet it was sort of normal, I mean, it made you think you were hallucinating or on drugs or just both.

Seeing me bewildered, Al laughed, placing a hand on the small of my back as he explained: "Yeah, my parents are both architects, and they like to design weird things. You'll be amazed at the amount of people that actually likes what they design and crave to have something similar."

I nodded, unable to speak, still too amazed. Al grabbed both our bags and, hand always on the small of my back, he led me towards the entrance, and only once we were at the door he cared to inform me: "Oh, uh ... they don't know I'm coming over, and, less than less do they know there's someone else with me, so ... well, brace yourself."

I frowned. "For what?"

But he didn't have time to respond to that, because, just as he'd rung the doorbell, which, obviously, had the weirdest sound I've ever heard, something like a mix between an eagle and a squirrel, the door swung open, and we were met by the sight of a short chubby woman in her early fifties, rosy skin, wearing black leggings and a large orange shirt that reached her thighs, thin glasses on her nose, honey blonde hair, but, mostly, a wide, wide grin as she realized who was at the door.

I had to step to the side as she, after having let out a crazy shriek, tackled Al into such a tight hug that he yelped a little, but laughed, hugging her back, placing a big wet kiss on her rosy cheek.

"Hello, maman." He pulled back, grinning widely. "Tu never cease de become more jolie."

I frowned, confused, both at his French, which I never knew he spoke, and at the weird phrase he just said.

The woman laughed, slapping his shoulder playfully. "And your French is always horrible, my son." She shook her head in mock disapproval. "When will you ever learn?"

"I know enough French to impress girls, maman, that works just fine for me."

I couldn't help but chuckle ... catching the attention of the woman, who had been about to scold her son. She turned to me, arching an eyebrow, and I felt suddenly anxious, because her gaze was piercing even my soul, I swear. With only one gaze she was seizing me up and down, evaluating me, as if I were a weird animal that'd just popped up at her door.

Luckily, Al came to my help ... or no. Because he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into him as he spoke, a wide grin always on his face: "Ah, maman, this is my friend Rebecca. Becks, this is my gorgeous and lovely mommy. She's from Quebec and tried endlessly to teach me French but never succeeded."

I giggled at that, and the woman faked a scowl as she complained: "But your father succeeded in teaching you Italian, how comes?"

"Well ... you know ... there was this Italian kid in my class ..." I rolled my eyes, knowing already where he was getting at. "I only learnt some cool pickup lines anyways." As if that were a surprise.

Before I could say anything, his mother's eyes – strikingly as blue as her son's – snapped back to me, and they widened as she beamed, clapping her hands in euphoria: "Rebecca! Of course! My son never ceases talking about you!"

I arched an eyebrow at Al, who pulled back from me, laughing nervously as he scratched the back of his neck, trying to explain: "Well, you know ... I tell my mommy everything, and ..."1

"And you happen to be a very regular topic, Rebecca." She cut in.1

I chuckled, shaking my head. "I hope he says good things, at least."

There was a weird glint in her eyes as she looked in between us, before admitting: "Oh, trust me, I've heard only marvelous things about you."

That had me blush a little, but I soon shrugged it off when she invited us in. "I wonder what marvelous things you say about me to your mom." I teased Al who walked a step behind me.

He smirked, pinching my butt as he teased back: "That you taste like Heaven, and that you're the best fuck I've ever had."

I smirked back. "The best, huh? I might get a big head."

He came beside me, snaking an arm around my waist to be able to whisper huskily in my ear: "A big head is not the only big thing you're gonna get, baby, trust me."

I pushed him away, laughing of his cockiness, which in any other guy would unnerve me to no end, but I know Al doesn't mean to be disrespectful, he just likes to play hard. Though I nearly gulped when, as we reached the living room, I caught the dirty look Mrs. Barrow sent her son, clearly having caught what he'd just told me.

The living room didn't look as I expected, I mean, with such exterior, I thought the inside would be as much out of the ordinary, instead no, it was very normal, though also very elegant: a large stone fireplace dominated the middle of the room, a sectional sofa, a beanbag, a coffee table right in front of the sofa, and a loveseat beside it, the floor was in wooden, and the part where there was the furniture was covered by a white woolen rug; on the left, there was a large balcony with a large table, on the right, wooden large double doors, and stairs, behind the sofa, and arc door and orange curtains that barely hid the kitchen.

What caught my eye as I walked in was the black grand piano beneath the stairs, tucked into a corner as if it were nothing but an usual object of the house. Ever since I was a child I would have loved to learn to play piano, along with violin. Sadly, I never could.

Mrs. Barrow urged me to sit, and I did, taking place on the left seat of the sofa, she came beside me, while Al swiftly reached the beanbag next to the fireplace, sprawling on it, which had his mother giggle as she shook her head. "That hideous thing is a punch in the eye, but it was there since my baby boy was a toddler,and he's always loved sitting there, especially in Winter,when he'd curl under the blankets and stare at the fire in the hearth." She sighed dramatically, hand on her heart, as she beheld her son. "Growing old he started being more interest in girls, but he still sat there every time he was in the living room."

I'll admit that made me smile, especially as I could see Al's ears tinge pink ... I never knew this lovely side of him.

"And who's the one that needs the piano?" I asked, pointing at the thing behind me with my thumb.

Mrs. Barrow beamed, obviously, as she always seemed to do every time she talks about her son: "Oh, but Alan, of course! He was such a talent! Too bad he quit, otherwise he'd have become a great composer, I'm sure! Did you know that he also plays violin?"

I barely bit back the smirk as I watched him make himself as tiny as possible, clearly embarrassed. "Does he?"

"Yes! He used to play it all the time for his mamie!"

"Mamie?" I asked, confused.

Al cleared his throat. "My grandma from my mother's side."

Mrs. Barrow cooed, bringing her hands to her heart, and I kinda got why did Al say his parents were uncommon ... she really was completely different from any other adult I've ever met. "Alan has always been so attached to his mamie. You still call her, right?"

His ears practically invented a new shade of pink as he lowered his head, admitting: "Uh ... yeah, every night." 4

I actually recalled that, in fact, every night, before dinner and after his shower, Al leaves to make a phone call. I never really understood who did he call and Byron didn't want to tell me, so I figured it might be some booty call ... instead no ... while I thought he was being the usual player, he was actually being an adorable grandnephew.

Mrs. Barrow went on telling me about how close Al was to his grandmother, she taught him to play piano, but he learnt to play also violin just for her, because she loved hearing the sound of it, and she told me all these little details about baby Al, that I was a mere moment away from cooing at his secret cuteness, when the front door opened, and a deep voice came from the hall, announcing his return.

I might have had doubs about the identity of the new arrival, hadn't Mrs. Barrow straightened up, beaming – as I suppose she always does, but this time more – and leaped to her feet, going to jump into the arms of the man that barely had time to enter the living room.

Al laughed, shaking his head at how cheesy they were, but the grin on his lips was clear.

When Mrs. Barrow pulled away, I got glimpse of a tall man in his fifties, his dark hair had some spurts of grey, as much as his beard, but he looked very handsome nevertheless. I guess that's were Al took his physique, because, for being 50-something, his father sure looked hot.

His dark brown eyes focused on me, and he frowned, I guess confused to see me, but his wife was quick to inform him, and when she pointed at the beanbag, where a grinning Al was still sprawled, the man's eyes lit up, his grin as much wide as his son's.

Al leaped to his feet, and went to take the hug his father offered him, which lasted a couple of seconds, but you could feel paternal love reeking off it.

Once that was over, Mr. Barrow turned back to me, asking who was I. "Ah, papa, this is my friend Rebecca." Al introduced me, so I leaped to my feet to go greet the man, blushing when his wife hinted: "That same Rebecca our boy always talks about, chéri."

Her husband grinned widely as he shook my hand, murmuring: "Ah, I see ..."

I wonder what does Al tell his parents about me, for them to have this reaction. I bet to get out of the awkward moment, Al cleared his throat, and mentioned: "Becks, my dad is actually Italian, you know."

"Oh, really? But the surname ..."

Mr. Barrow laughed, moving to go sit onto the sofa. "It's a long story, dear, just know that I had to change name." Oh. That's interesting. 4

Mrs. Barrow joined her husband on the sofa, and because I didn't want to intrude, especially as she snuggled up to him, I sat on the loveseat, while Al went back to the beanbag, explaining that it wasn't this big secret, not for me anyway: his father came to USA that he was still a kid, he saw something he shouldn't have, therefore had to enter the witness protection, it all ended in a few months, but by then he'd gotten used to the name Nicholas Barrow, so he kept it.2

Explained that, it was time for the round of questions about me ... remind me to strangle Al for just sitting there smirking while his parents bombarded me with every type of inquiry, from how old are you, to what are your prospects in life and how do you plan to achieve them. The most desolating part was admitting that I have no idea where I'll be in five years.

All I was able to say was "I'm saving up for college, but I don't know when will that be possible and what do I want to study". I expected them to look at me funny or disappointed or ... anything, but all they did was shrug and smile, admitting that neither of them had ever had a fair idea of what to do in life.

"You see, Rebecca, I only became architect because this gorgeous lady here hooked me to it." Mr. Barrow admitted, making his wife giggle by placing a small kiss on her cheek.

"Yeah, and I became architect because I needed something to impress him." She admitted in return, which had me confused, so she explained: "You see, I was taken since the very first time I met him, back then I was only a waitress, he came to my restaurant, and we chatted a little, and when we got to that omnipresent question, I invented that I was only a part time waitress, in truth I was studying to be architect."

I couldn't help but smile, especially at the loving way she looked at her husband. It's so clear that they love each other very deeply. "But why architecture?" I asked, actually interested, crossing my legs.

Mrs. Barrow giggled, hiding her face behind her husband's neck. "I needed something that wouldn't be lame, so I looked out of the window for inspiration, and saw the building on construction, so I thought ... architecture!" We all chuckled, especially as she then added: "In truth, I only wanted him to think I was smart, and Medicine or Law were too mainstream, so ..."

Her phrase ended in a girly giggle when her husband once more kissed her cheek, bringing her closer to him as he revealed: "Yeah, but what she didn't know, is that I didn't notice she was making up the whole thing, only because I was too awestruck gaping at her. And I faked interest in architecture only to have something to talk about with her."

"Yeah, and I searched for notions only to recite them every time I saw him!"

I grinned. No wonder Al is such a goofball, he took everything from these two. They were just so cute. They went on telling me how in the end they both discovered the truth, but, other than be angry, they laughed it off and concluded with a kiss, yet because all that architecture talk had indeed intrigued them both, they decided they would try, so they did what I'm doing: saved up for college, and they graduated that baby Alan was already five years old, so they showed me the pictures of that cute little boy cheering for his parents at their graduation day.

That called for other pictures, though ... soon enough, I found myself sitting beside Mrs. Barrow as she showed me photos of him in diapers and so, which obviously had Al's face turn fifty shades of red as he complained, but I giggled, having the time of my life as I memorized all the embarrassing moments I could tease him about.

In the end I asked if I could have a double of the photo of baby Al in diapers, sleeping peacefully on the sofa, because he just looked sooo cute! He protested, but his mom agreed, giving me the original, which I tucked into my wallet.

I saw so many photos that by the end I was practically able to reconstruct half of his life, till middle school, at least, because then photos started getting rare, which Mrs. Barrow explained with his being reluctant, though there were some of him in high school, and one in particular caught my eye: three guys, between 16 and 18, leaning against a car I recognized as Al's – the one he still has – wearing wide grins as they hugged each other.

They looked adorable, really, even the dark-haired one on the left ... mostly because, in truth, I've never seen him grin like that, so carefree, peaceful, truthfully happy. I guess that, really, the William Foster before Mel was a whole different person. I kinda wish I'd met him before, just to have an idea.

By the time all of that was over, it was already 9 pm, and I was kinda hungry, but before my stomach could embarrass me, Mr. Barrow came in with a few bags and grinned at us. We wound up eating Thai, conversing amiably about various things, and I loved every single minute of it, Al's parents are really awesome, in everything they said I could spot that bit of ... uncommon their son warned me about, and I adored it.

Even more I loved that they were so affectionate with each other, as if, even after all these years, they still couldn't quit adoring each other, the way Mr. Barrow looked at his wife, as if she were some sort of goddess, and the way she looked at him, as if he were the only man on the whole planet ... adorable.

I'll admit that, partly, it made me think of someone that looked at me with such loving eyes and that was, truly, the only man in the whole universe for me, but ... I ignored the pang in my heart and focused on the conversation, just not to wind up crying in front of all of them.

In the end, the night went by peacefully, and by midnight, Mr. and Mrs. Barrow retired to their room, saying tomorrow was a busy day, because they would be hosting a barbeque, to which I was obviously invited, of course, not even to question, and I was happy to accept, because it was something different from my usual life, but I was also worried, because it meant meeting Al's relatives and friends and neighbors and ... all those people, who, as much as his parents, would be convinced we're a couple ...

His parents went to sleep, so Al grabbed our suitcases, and led me upstairs, towards his old room.

"Shouldn't I sleep in a guestroom or somethin?" I wondered.

He laughed. "Oh, come on, Becks, I don't think there's anything I haven't seen of you." I gave him a dirty look and smacked him over the head, but he only laughed, opening the door and throwing the bags onto the floor, only to then grab my arm and pull me in.

"My guys are already convinced you and I are a lovely couple, baby, might as well act upon it." Al mused as his arms wrapped around me, pressing me against him, a mischievous smirk I knew all too well plastered on his handsome face, especially as he let his hands slip down to grip my ass cheeks.

I smirked as well, placing my hands on his chest. "I'm sorry, Mr. Barrow, but if you were hoping, you'll be disappointed, because you won't be getting any this weekend." I stated in a business-like voice, slipping away from his grip, only to then giggle when he came up behind me and pulled me back into him, lifting me up and throwing me onto bed, him with me, which had me laugh loudly, especially when he hovered over me and started tickling me, so that I tossed and turned, trying to escape, which was obviously futile, considering that his hard body was over mine.

In the end, he quit ... but only to lean over, and have his lips only inches away from mine, his hands at my sides. "You sure about that?" He asked, teasingly, grazing my lips.

I smirked, and kissed him, quickly but hungrily, so that I could confuse him enough for him to lessen his grip on me and I would be able to once more slip away from his grip and stand up, sneering. "Pretty sure. Now, be a gentleman and take the floor."

I stated, pretending to be serious as I went over to my suitcase to open it, and grab my sleeping attire. Of course, I didn't mean what I said, I just wanted to tease him a little ... I mean, hadn't I had any intention of letting him have what he craves - and what I crave, too -, I would have brought one of my anti-rape pajamas that hide every single bit of skin, not a ruby wine lace-trim baby-doll I got on purpose online last week.

It was pure lack that the guys weren't there when the delivery man arrived, because the package had Victoria's Secrets written all too clear over it, so there wouldn't have been much room for surprise. And it was pure luck that it was on sale, and because I bought something else, I didn't pay it at all, because there was some sort of buy two pay one promotion.

This baby-doll consisted of crochet lace-overlay, triangle cups with removable padding, adjustable strap with lace T-back, a front bow and crochet trim, and it stopped at my mid-thighs, but the neckline was so deep, that my boobs were practically apart from each other. In truth, it was a little bit uncomfortable for my cup C, but nothing I couldn't get over easily.

I took my sweet time in the bathroom, freshening up, brushing my teeth, putting some perfume ... mostly only because Al kept on knocking on the door, inventing every possible excuse – including that he needed to pee, yes – to get me out. By the time I did get out, it was 1 am already, but the look on his face was very much worth it.

His mouth hung open, his eyes were wide, as if he were seeing me for the very first time. I was distracted by the rest of his reaction because my eyes raked over his half naked body – he was wearing only his boxer briefs – that was glistening, not sure if because of the heat or because he just threw water on those perfectly rippled abs ... hmm ... I was already getting wet, can't deny it.

Al spends a lot of time in the gym, not as much as Byron, but enough to have his muscles perfectly rippled, and ... I think that, since lthe ast time I saw him naked, he got some more muscle too.

I was cut off in my reverie by his loud curse, so my eyes slipped to his, and all I caught was: "Jesus Christ, woman, you're gonna be the death of me!" Before he had me pinned against the wall, his lips crashing on mine with such force that I couldn't help being a bit overwhelmed, though I quickly regained my composure and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, kissing him back, but much more hungrily.

I put every ounce of desire into that kiss, tugging at his hair – even though he didn't growl as much as Jerkface does – biting his bottom lip a bit more harshly than usual, pressing him against me till there wasn't a single inch separating us.

His hands soon slipped down to roam over my body, and it didn't take long before he tried to take off my baby-doll, but I didn't let him ... as soon as he tried to, I pushed him off, smirking impishly at his confused look, and pushed him onto the bed, swiftly going to straddle him, moaning when my core came in contact with his already stiffening crotch.

I don't know why was I doing all this, being sexy and all, I mean, I think Al wouldn't have had any objections in fucking me even if I wore my Winter plaid pajama, but ... I don't know, it was funny. And I was damn horny, can't deny it.

The thing is, normally I'd get my fix every night, slipping into Jerkface's room before he leaves for work, but of course, this time I did none of that, and because Al teased me without going further, and Byron was always so tired after work ... well, the only way I could relieve my needs was play with myself, and, tell you what, it didn't feel the same as having one of the guys do it.

So ... I kinda thought I'd exploit this weekend to get Al over the edge, so that he would quit teasing and would get to work, but he surprised me by already having it in mind. The baby-doll and everything were just me expressing my womanliness, I think, which couldn't find any other way of relief, I mean, I don't exactly live much, do I?

At this point, I think it's great that I'm rooming with these gods, because otherwise I would have been very much sexually frustrated. And it's even better that I can alternate them and they know I play on all beds, so that none of them might ever develop deeper feelings, if that were possible.

As for me, there is not a single chance I could ever feel more for them, I mean, I care deeply about them, and I find them so damn hot that sometimes I just crave for that night when I'll have all of them at the same time, but, well, as for feelings, nah, impossible. Like I said, that train has left my station long ago, and it's not coming back. Ever.

Now, I forced myself not to grind against his hard crotch – even though my lace panties were already getting pretty soaked – and let my nails run over his abs, barely scratching them, which already had him squirm beneath me, jerking his hips up to meet my own crotch.

I let my fingers travel up and down his skin, wanting to enjoy every single moment of this, make it unbelievably hot other than just normal sex, and my index finger hooked onto the hem of his boxer briefs, but when Al hissed, I didn't pull them down, smirking impishly when he sent me a frustrated look.

I'll admit I was in the mood for something more than normal sex, and I kinda wished Bye was here, so that ... you know ... not Jerkface because if I get anywhere near his hot zones before we make up, I'm gonna end up going all Lorena Bobbit on him, and I guess that would spoil the mood, wouldn't it?

But ... Bye wasn't here, so I had to make do with what I had ... the thrill of Al's parents possibly hearing from downstairs was enough, I guess. Not to mention ... the unbelievably hot sex god that was beneath me.

I rubbed his toned thighs, let my nails wander, my eyes fixed on his, his greens being so glazed over in mad lust that I think it was unbelievable that he hadn't already flipped us to lead the game and get a move.

I played with him some more, till I leaned over and, cupping his cheeks, I kissed him, deeply and hungrily. Al had been, weirdly enough, about to switch the kiss from lustful to almost sweet, but he forgot all about it when I started grinding against him, making him groan in my mouth, so that I smirked, pleased.

Gosh, he was so hard against me, I was craving to just go down on him, but I had to stick to my plan. I let my loose hair cover his face as I kissed him, my hands keeping it tightly against mine while I rubbed myself against him, and only when his hands moved to cup my ass cheeks did I quit, and only to grab his hands and, smirking, bring them to cup my boobs instead.

Although ... a small idea pitched in my mind, and I bit my lip as I pondered, while Al was too distracted staring at my breasts as he squeezed them.

Out of the blue, I stopped his hands, though still keeping them there, and looked straight into his eyes. "Your parents sleep downstairs, right?" I asked.

He nodded, even if confused. His room was actually at the top floor, it featured a big balcony as well, while his parents were downstairs, along with other two guestrooms and a bathroom, Al's room was the only one up here, across from it there was a game room he apparently used when his friends came over.

When Al nodded, I bit my lips, pondering. I wanted to try something new, and, judging by the glint in his eyes as he watched me carefully, Al was willing to let me play.

I dropped his hands to my stomach and stared straight at him, the smirk never leaving my face, especially as I explained: "Alan, do you have any ... peculiar kinky dreams?" His green eyes widened and I giggled, unable to retain myself. "I mean ... is there something you wanna try but never have?"

Considering he's had regular foursomes with his friends, that's pretty impossible, but I was willing to try anyway. Even though, I asked, but I already had my plan. That's why I once more let my hands roam his perfect abs, this time putting a bit more of nails, and asked: "Do you ever fancy being ... submitted to a woman?"

Oh, I hit the bull's eye. His greens twitched while widening, turning of such a dark shade that it was impossible to deny how he felt about my question. Not to mention, his buddy down there twitched as well. "You mean ... you want to ... you ..."

I smirked, leaning over to cup his cheeks, covering his face with my hair, pressing my chest against his. "I mean, if you're willing, I am ..."

I've never tried this, never thought I would either, but hey, I'd never thought I would fancy a foursome either, so ... there's a first time for everything. Gosh, this week I felt so hot only thinking of the guys taking care of my needs altogether ...

Al bit his lip, and nodded without even blinking twice. I smirked. I pulled back up, quickly coming up with some ideas. Lucky thing I'm not that prude girl that won't watch porn ... you learn a lot from that, you know?

Slowly, I slid off him and stood, kind of wondering if heels would be necessary or not ... I went for the no, just not to break the atmosphere. He watched me carefully, eager and expectant.

"Stand up." I ordered in the firmest tone I could muster. Al frowned, so I faked a glare as I repeated the order just with my eyes. He complied.

"Take off your pants." He didn't have any on, so it was obvious I meant the boxer briefs. Slowly, he complied, tossing them onto the floor. I could see he was doing his best to hide a smirk, but I'd fix that soon.

My eyes wandered the room – very boyish – and thought of things I could use. Al cleared his throat, catching my attention, a smug smirk on his face that vanished as soon as I faked another glare. He didn't speak, and I knew why, so I hinted him to talk. "I should ... inform Your ... um ... Ma'am that –"

"Ms. Henson. Call me Ms. Henson." Those cheesy names like mistress and so just don't do for me. Al smirked, then hid it, and just nodded.

"I should inform you, Ms. Henson, that ... there is something interesting tucked at the back of the wardrobe, behind boxes."

I frowned for a moment, wondering what could that be, and actually if Al was into BSDM or so, but I shrugged it off soon and, as sternly as could, ordered: "Take it."6

He complied, walking over to the wardrobe behind me and opening it, only to then smirk once he found what he was looking for. I'm only hoping it's nothing of the Fifty Shades of Grey type, because I don't think I could really handle that.

I smirked when he took out a pair of handcuffs, though. So he really is into kinky, huh? I wonder if his parents know, or if his mother ever found the cuffs while cleaning up his room.

I took the handcuffs, and nodded, knowing those were exactly what I was looking for. "Lay down on your back." I ordered. He complied. "Hands at the headboard."

He let himself smirk a little, but complied, diligently bringing his hands up, even preparing his wrists for the purpose. I'm starting to think this was not the first time for him. I guess I shall be better than the other(s).

I went over to the bed and swiftly cuffed him to the headboard, purposely leaning over more than needed, so that my boobs were actually in his face. And he loved that.

I stood up straight, and observed him for a moment. He didn't seem intimidated neither worried, clear sign he knows how it works and that he certainly thought I wouldn't be up to the task. I smirked.

"Have you ever tried this?" I asked, waving my hand to let him talk.

"Actually, never."

"Never?"

"Never."

"And the handcuffs?" He smirked, so I nodded. "Ah, I get it. Usually it's the other way round, isn't it?"

Al gave me a fake innocent look. "Maybe."

"I never pictured you as the dominant type."

"Well, I never pictured you as the dominant type either, Ms. Henson."

I smirked. "No? And how did you think I was?"

"Honestly?" I nodded. He grinned, his eyes raking over my body. "Honestly, I thought you liked the opposite. Being submissive."

"Because I'm a woman?"

"Because you look all innocent on the surface. Like some sort of Anastasia Steele."

"Ah, so you wanted to be my Mr. Grey, huh?"

He smirked, guilty. "Maybe."

I smirked as well, this time feeling more than ready to begin to play. "Well, too bad I'm not that type of girl." I commented, going to straddle him. "I should punish you just for that."

He laughed. "And what are you gonna do? Spank me?"

I smirked, teasing: "Maybe."

His eyes turned so dark that there wasn't a sole drop of green anymore, I swear. So he likes this, huh?

Shrugging it all off, I restarted the game I'd been playing earlier, but without him being able to move now, it felt only hotter, especially considering that, at some point, with my grinding against him and sort of scratching his skin with my nails, he started whining that he was about to explode. I didn't listen.

Actually, all I did was pull my panties to the side, lower myself on him and start grinding as his hard shaft was between my lips. He was already glistening with pre-cum. Awesome.

I stepped up my game and, looking up at him with an impish grin, I mused: "I think I should just fuck you like a toy. Actually, I think you're not gonna come until I say so."

There, his eyes widened, and not in appreciation, in fact he complained that that was harder for a man, and much more painful, but I only shrugged.

Before doing what I actually craved to, I let my eyes wander to his drawer, luckily there was his wallet, so I stretched, and grabbed it, knowing I would find what I needed, and I wasn't disappointed. Skipping back, I unwrapped the condom and, watching him intently, eyes fixed on his, I slowly slid it over his hard dick. Safety first, right?

Once I was done with that, I moved to place him right beneath me and, slowly, I let him sink into me. Ah, God, it felt so good already. I was dripping wet, so he slid easily inside, but I didn't move. When he groaned, I gave him a dirty look and ordered: "Not a single sound or I gag you." He was baffled. "You hear me?" He nodded. I smirked.

Now, going back to the hard thingy inside me ... I started slowly grinding against him, working my way to bliss but enjoying it to the fullest, careful not to let him enjoy as much. I kept that pace for a while, till I got tired of it and just started bouncing up and down, sweating so much that I got rid of the baby-doll without so much of a fuss, and I got a bit out of control, maybe, because at some point I could barely even see Al watching me lustfully, I was too busy fucking him hard, playing with my breasts, touching myself everywhere I know drives me nuts. In a word, I was using him like a toy. And he loved it.

It didn't take long before I orgasmed, and I felt a little out of breath, so I stopped. He was throbbing inside me, and about to erupt, therefore I pulled out, making him growl in pain, which obviously gained him a harsh pinch on his nipple, and I saw him bite his tongue not to growl once more. To catch my breaths, I moved slowly, but concealed behind being sexy, and went to place my core against his face, purposely.

"Lick me clean." I ordered. He did as asked without complaining, but because he decided to do more than just clean me up and actually he used his skilled tongue to drive me insane, in a few minutes I was already quivering, about to reach my peak once more ... before he stopped.

I knew what he was playing at, so I complied, and pinched his thigh, to which he growled painfully, and I can't deny that that sound mixed with his hot breath against my core made me feel closer to the edge.

"Fuck it. Make me come. Actually, just tongue-fuck me. Hard." I could feel him smirk, but I didn't really care, all I cared about was the way his tongue slid over my lips and then slipped into my slick entrance, which had me better press against him, practically fucking his face.

Judging by the way his cock was twitching, he so needed to come ... the hiss he let out as I grabbed him in my hand confirmed it. Because he quit doing what I said, I chastised: "Keep up the job, and I'll let you come over my face." Well, maybe it wasn't really chastising, but whatever.

Al complied, his tongue working beautiful inside me, and, to award him, I took him in my mouth, he squirmed not to hiss, but I kept going, and by the time I came all over his face, so he did over mine. Can't say it wasn't hot.

But ... now I had to stand up and clean myself up, which I did, swiftly going into the bathroom to grab a Kleenex box that I bet used to have one sole use when teenage Al was here. Once I'd cleaned myself, I did the same to his face, mirroring his satisfied smirk.

Deciding we'd gotten what we wanted and right now all I needed was some old fashioned doggie, I freed him from the handcuffs, and pretended to squeal in surprise as he tackled me onto bed, putting me on all fours. How predictable he is. But I loved it.

Oddly enough, it didn't take him long to recover, so he took off the used condom, and slipped on another one. There was a surprise here, though. Because, other than, as expected, slam himself inside my core, he switched doors, making me whimper in pain as he went straight into my butt.

"Fuck, that hurt!" I nearly screamed, but he laughed, gripping my hands to, weirdly, entwine our fingers as he started pumping. Lucky thing he was slow. I'm used to anal, yes, but hey, you can't just stuck such big thing into my butt and not expect me to feel pain, especially when I wasn't even ready.

Al was mindful, though, because, apparently, the condom he used was one of those that are lubricated already, so that kinda provided. He went hard, though. I mean, after the first moments of slow pace, he started going harder and harder on me, and I had a hard time trying not to scream loud, especially when I felt something else inside my core. I didn't know what, I just knew that it was as thick as a real cock and ... oh, fuck, how couldn't I hear the buzzing noise? Where did he even get a fucking vibrator? And why did he grab it? I didn't even see it!

Al leaned over, his sweaty chest pressing against my sweaty back, and he nibbled on my ear, chuckling. "Surprise, babe." He pressed the vibrator deeper inside me as his dick pounded harder into my butt, and I didn't have time to think, because I was already going wild, feeling overwhelmed.

Fuck, if this is how it feels to have both holes filled, I'm starting to wonder how will I handle all three guys banging me. I bet Al's purpose was to give me a little snippet of what it'll be like. Deciding I'd question him about owning a vibrator later, I let myself bask in that marvelous feeling.

When Al pulled my hair to have my head shoot back, I thought it was to repay me of the pain I'd inflicted him while being in my dominant mode, instead he gave me a deep kiss that was so intense that I think it kinda triggered my other orgasm ...

I quivered underneath him, but he didn't cease, he just went on fucking me hard with the help of his friend Mr. Vibrator, and I squealed in pain when he pulled out to switch roles.

The fucking vibrator in my butt felt even bigger than it was before, while Al's cock was nearly breaking my walls already. He let me come one more time, then he got rid of the vibrator and pushed me down, his body completely over mine, and he once more gripped my hands, entwining our fingers, and he tilted his head to meet my lips, giving me such hot and intense kisses as he never had. I gladly kissed him back anyways, actually enjoying this hidden side of him, well, not so hidden, I knew he was a little perverted, but I had no idea he could be so passionate as well.

He soon pulled up, me with him, and dug his fingers in my hips as he pounded so hard that I could even feel pain. Always pleasurable, though. By then, I was tightly gripping the pillow, moaning his name like a chant, careless of whoever could hear, because he was going so hard that the freaking headboard was knocking against the wall and the whole bed was shaking. I was at my wit's end. I knew he was good, but not this good!

Either he held himself back last time or now he was more inspired. Either way, I was loving every single bit of it. Even the pulling of hair, even the tilting of my head back to kiss me now and then, and hell, even his hand going down on my ass a few times, till it fucking got red!

By the time I reached the nth, never-ending, orgasm, my core was aching, I swear. Yet I couldn't stop. I wanted it all, I wanted to go on all the fucking night as Alan Fucking Barrow fucked the living daylights out of me.

And we did. By the time he finally grunted his own orgasm, it was fucking dawn. I could see it on the clock that it was 5 am, and from the light coming from the balcony. I was too exhausted to think of anything, so that, when Al tucked us both in and came to spoon me, I didn't even protest, just sank back into his embrace, needing him to hold me together, considering that my body was so sore I don't even know how would I stand for the next couple of days. If this was a way to prove me something, whatever it is, he succeeded.

The feeling of his sweaty chest against my sweaty back and his arms around me, along with his hot breath against my skin – his head being placed on my shoulder as he nuzzled the back of my neck – soothed me into sleep, and I welcomed it with open arms, feeling like sleeping till next week.

I was already dozing off when I felt Al's lips on my cheek, and I didn't hear what he said, so I just replied with a drowsy: "Hmm ... goodnight, Ally ..." The last sound I heard was his chuckle, then I dozed off, worn out.

AL'S POV

She was already dozing off, but I decided to speak up either way: "Next time I'll be making love to you, baby."

She faintly nodded, and drowsily replied: "Hmm ... goodnight, Ally ..."

I chuckled. I've actually come to love that nickname, but only when it rolls off her sexy lips. She was fast asleep, and I was damn tired too, this was the best but also most exhausting fuck of my life.

Yet I still had energy enough to tuck her hair behind her ear and, kissing it, I whispered: "Things are gonna get chaotic, Becks. You're gonna be the first woman to stand between us. We're all so fucking whipped, babe. And ... I thought I'd let you heal his heart, but ... turns out I'm willing to admit what Will is too stubborn to ..."

I sighed, once more kissing her ear. She hummed in her sleep, but didn't move. "He'll never say he is, but I am and I'll say it, even if you can't hear me ... I am fucking falling in love with you, Becks. And the worst is, I fucking know it's gonna hurt like Hell. Because you've got your ex still hogging your heart. And I can't win this triangle if I can't fight one of the sides."

I squeezed her against me. "I can fight the fourth part of the trouble, though. I just hope I won't have to. It sounds mean, but, hopefully, you're gonna remain oblivious to the feelings you're developing for that jackass that Will is."