Perception (Halle/Lyle/Alle, RSA), Section 2
Index/Timeline
Sections: 1, 2
"Remember what I asked you at the beginning?" Alle asks, a week later, making Lyle's head snap up because he did not hear Alle come in. Didn't even hear Alle climbing the stairs, but there he is, standing by the door like he belongs there.
Lyle does remember. "About the bones."
Alle nods. "Do you want to hear?"
Does he want to hear? He's hard at the idea alone (these two are good at spotting every turn-on and abusing it) but he's not keen on spending the next few weeks recovering in the hospital.
At this point he's fairly sure that Halle's not going to kill him--not before he comes--but his desire to spend time at the hospital, no matter how good the sex is, is nearly zero. "Can't Halle come get me himself, if he wants me to hear?"
The way Alle doesn't freeze, doesn't look over his shoulder, and just smiles says that Halle is already here. Lyle looks over his shoulder just in time to take a fist to the face. He gasps at the pain, stumbling a little, and Halle pulls him back to a standing position by his hair. "Uppity bitch," he says, but not like it bothers him.
Just the opposite. Lyle can't help a smirk, and Halle reaches out of Lyle's field of vision for something--toward Alle--there's a sound like metal, but muted, and a few seconds later Halle brings the copper pipe into Lyle's field of vision. The end of it is ragged and pinched but it's thick enough that Halle's going to have to hit really fucking hard to do any damage to the pipe. Fantastic, Lyle thinks, with the small part of him that isn't dying of anticipation overload.
Without a word or glance passing between Halle and Alle, the former lets go of Lyle's hair and the latter seamlessly comes up behind Lyle to resume the hold. Lyle feels himself tensing, waiting for the blow, but Halle doesn't humor him just yet. He's pulled out a knife, and is cutting away Lyle's shirt, same as that day in the basement. Once again, part goes around his head for a blindfold, and another part ties his hands above his head.
He can't protect himself. He can't see where the blows will be coming from. He only thought that the anticipation was killing him before; now it's like walking on hot coals, so much ash between him and danger and he wants to just do this.
Halle trails the ragged end of the pipe over Lyle's back, a diagonal swipe where he digs in just enough for blood to flow wetly from the wound, trickling in little streams that join together to make a big stream down the center of his back.
Lyle yearns to say something, but there's a different tone to Halle and Alle's attention than before and he's so fucking afraid that if he says something to fuck it up, they'll abandon him and he'll spend the rest of his life looking for the same treatment and finding only pale comparisons.
It feels like an awful long time of just standing there and bleeding, but by the time the first blow comes Lyle's breathing is already ragged and unsteady. That makes it all the harder to regain his breath after the strike, and Halle takes full advantage, landing a barrage of blows over Lyle's torso and across his ass and even down on his legs.
Alle steps away from Lyle some time during that first barrage and there is again that dull metallic sound that means someone's doing something with the pipe, and Lyle gets a blow across the right side of his chest and his left hip at the same goddamn time.
He shudders with reaction, pain and pleasure twined together even as the ragged ends of both pipes trail respectively down and up across his stomach, making an X of searing pain like fireworks in his mind. They don't press as hard as the cut on his back, so the blood doesn't gush as readily, but Lyle can still smell it, a sharpness in the air that makes his cock throb with want of attention.
Lyle nearly says please, nearly begs for it, but then he remembers that he's been putting up with their attention for how many weeks now without release--another twenty minutes or even an hour isn't going to make a hell of a lot of difference.
Halle chuckles, to Lyle's right, and one of them brings his pipe down in a hard smack across his ass. The clothes muffle what could be beautifully painful into just painful, not pushing Lyle's limits at all.
He wants his jeans off; he wants to be naked for this. "Can I--"
A hand covers his mouth, slapping over his lips painfully and pressing him back so hard he overbalances and falls back against someone. Against Alle, who got naked at some point, because the cut on his back is oversensitive and that's not cloth it's pressing against.
Alle laughs, but it's not a nice laugh, and he rakes his fingernail up the length of the cut on Lyle's back; Lyle shivers happily. "What do you suppose he's asking for?" Alle asks, although not like he actually wonders. They already know, Lyle's fairly sure.
"More of the pipes?" Halle mock-guesses, and brings down his pipe hard on Lyle's stomach. Lyle coughs, but he doesn't gag and he makes himself straighten back out, opening himself up for more, more.
"Could be."
One of the pipes hits Lyle's balls from below, not so hard that he gags, but hard enough. Lyle bites down on his lip and leans back into Alle's embrace, and feels the pipe's rough end pressing against his balls through the jeans, pushing them this way and that. It feels like it's Alle doing it, based on the angle, but Lyle can feel both of Alle's hands on his back, holding him, so it can't be Alle.
"Think we should give him what he wants?" Alle asks, and from the tone Lyle can tell that he's inclined to do just that.
Halle, on the other hand, is not, if the sharp crack of the pipe into Lyle's temple is anything to go by. He sees colors and swirls of color and starbursts behind his eyes, but he does not pass out, and his erection is unbothered. (Harder than ever, actually.)
For the first time, Lyle wonders if he's meant to live through this. He wonders exactly what Alle meant by warning him to not let Halle lose interest; he wonders if Halle ever leaves his toys intact after he's lost interest.
The pipe comes down again, another barrage that distracts Lyle nicely from his thoughts. If Halle's not psychic--magic brainwaves, he remembers suddenly--he is at least very good at reading people.
Lyle loses himself in the beating for a while; they take turns supporting him, and making cuts, and at one point his jeans come off and the very first thing he gets is a wallop right across his ass. He jumps, dragging in breath, and breathes out a shaky moan because someone's playing with his nipples, fingers and then a mouth tasting his blood and sucking one nipple and moving up for a kiss.
It's Alle, which he really should have figured out right away from the distinct lack of teeth on his chest, but Lyle is just grateful and kisses back greedily, finding that his knees go weak at the taste of blood.
Halle slips out from behind Lyle, letting Alle's hands on his shoulders keep him steady, and kneels in front of Lyle. He rubs his face against Lyle's crotch through his jeans first, and then mouths, then bites right on the side of Lyle's cock.
His breath dies in his throat, no chance for anything like a moan or a scream or whatever else, even if his brain was firing enough to let him do that much, and his knees turn to Jello. From there he has a controlled sort of fall to the ground, which ends with Halle and Alle both laughing breathlessly and hauling him back up, pressed up against him from behind and in front.
They're kissing over to the left; he can hear it, and feel the way one of their chins keeps rubbing against his elbow while Allelujah's cock goes from half-hard to all the way hard and pressing against the gash on Lyle's back.
One of them rips Lyle's blindfold off but does not do anything about his hands, then wads the blindfold up and stuffs it in Lyle's mouth. It tastes of sweat and cotton, and he nearly spits it out, but then Halle--with a smirk that is deviousness itself--puts tape over the gag to keep it there.
Breathing gets a little harder, and Lyle's heart kicks it up a gear as Halle bites down on his cock again. Stage two, Lyle thinks, but in an abstract sort of way, distant as the stars.
Halle relaxes his jaw and the pain on Lyle's cock abates, but with a pulsing after feeling that means he wasn't imagining it; that really fucking hurt.
Alle reaches around and unbuckles Lyle's belt while Halle is still busy mouthing Lyle through his jeans. He pulls the belt out of its loops and brings it up, and uses it to further secure Lyle's wrists.
Whatever they're going to do to him, they're worried that he's going to fight it. Interesting. Lyle twists his wrists experimentally once Alle has the belt buckled, but between the pieces of his shirt and the belt all he can do is twist; there's no give for him to use to get out.
And yet, dread isn't creeping into Lyle's mind. Just anticipation, just want of this thing that they're preparing him for so carefully.
Alle presses a kiss to the back of Lyle's neck, then between his shoulder blades, then scrapes his teeth along the cut on Lyle's back. Lyle shudders, moaning, but the gag catches the sound and all that comes out is a muffled mmmm sort of noise. He's testing it, Lyle realizes belatedly once the two of them are busy manhandling his jeans and boxer-briefs off, Alle's gentle hands steadying him as he lifts one foot and then the other so that they can remove the offending clothes.
Now his clothes are off, Lyle can look down at Halle and watch as those teeth scrape along his cock again, yellow eye looking up while his hair covers the blue one. Lyle enjoys the hell out of this vantage point, enjoys watching those strong, deft fingers squeeze his balls and the way the edges of Halle's lips curl upward when Lyle gives another gag-muffled moan.
Alle's hands urge Lyle's legs apart, and Lyle spreads his legs obediently, wide enough for Halle to stick his head between them and bite down hard enough to draw blood on one side of Lyle's ass. Lyle's eyes roll back in his head and he feels his knees weaken a little, but Alle's there, holding him up until Halle goes back to playing with Lyle's cock instead.
Another kiss against the back of Lyle's neck. Lyle looks over his shoulder in time to see Alle kneel, and feels slick fingers pushing into him at the same time that Halle finally, finally stops toying with Lyle's cock and starts sucking it. Of course he still uses his teeth, but Lyle's not in any way going to complain about that.
Not when he can feel the heat in his belly coiling tight and building up and up, so much delicious pressure and the knowledge that this time they're not going to stop; this time they're going to let him come. He knows it as surely as he knows that there will be blood on his carpet by the end, if there isn't already, and that there is nothing he can do to ever escape these two.
Alle curls his fingers inside of Lyle, rubbing over his prostate. Once, and again, and again, and that's the last little push that Lyle needs. His orgasm feels almost like it's ripped out of him, by those teeth and those long fingers and the cuts and the places where he's tender from being hit with the pipes. It explodes in his mind like pyrotechnics, brilliant and full of color and vitality.
Lyle doesn't quite lose consciousness, but he does find himself on his knees without meaning to be, up close and personal with Halle's teeth in a way that makes him groan brokenly. The gag steals all the moans and groans, steals the begging he wants to do, steals everything and only emits that same mmmm as before.
Halle's leer is only slightly frightening, in Lyle's current state, but his mouth waters at the sight of semen on Halle's cheek. Lyle leans forward, angling his hands so that he can wipe the semen off onto his fingers and then offer his messy fingers to those teeth.
"For me?" Halle asks, faux-surprise. "You shouldn't have." He pauses, tosses his bangs out of his eyes, and Lyle looks into those skew-eyes until he feels like they're under his skin, until it's like Halle knows his darkest secrets. "Alle."
Obedient to Halle as ever, Alle comes around to the front, and when Halle motions to Lyle's fingers he cleans them off with special care. Slow and sensual, and pushing Lyle's hands back to the top of his head before pressing a kiss against Lyle's jaw.
The one who helps Lyle back to his feet is, for a surprise, Halle. Lyle stares at him blankly, and Halle sneers.
That, Lyle thinks, is more like it. He'd be smiling, if not for the gag.
Alle resumes his position behind Lyle, those slick fingers so agile that Lyle hardly needs to push back against them, but he does anyway. It doesn’t hurt to show them that he's eager to be fucked. Not this time, when his limbs are already lethargic from orgasm, when their actions make promises of more.
"Greedy," Halle comments, but not like it's a bad thing. His expression says that it's a good thing, good enough that he's going over to pick up one of those copper pipes again. He turns it over and over in his hands, like he's examining it, but there's no way he doesn't already know every inch of that pipe. "How would you like it if I fucked you with this?"
Lyle's breath catches and his cock twitches and begins to harden again.
Halle's grin is malice itself, hostility and rancor personified and directed right at Lyle. He shivers, and Alle thrusts his fingers particularly deep. Lyle's eyes roll back a little and he groans but once more the only sound that comes out is a muffled mmmm.
"What do you think, Alle?" Halle rubs the flat of the pipe up and down Lyle's side, just hard enough to seek out all of the most tender areas. Lyle does his best not to react, but he can't help leaning into that touch just a little.
"I think you promised me I'd get to fuck him first," Alle says, and Lyle can feel the words against his ass, feel the hotness of Alle's breath and the desire in the tone.
Halle snorts, almost dismissively. "You'd better get the fuck to it, or I'm going to change my mind."
For a surprise, Alle doesn't say anything like Yes Sir; he just pulls his fingers out and Lyle can look over his shoulder just enough to watch Alle slick up his cock. Lyle leans over the slightest bit, pushing his ass toward that magnificent specimen, and then gets the treat of being able to watch as every inch of it sinks into him.
When Alle's buried to the hilt, Lyle lets his head hang, dragging in breaths as best he can and wishing fervently for the ability to breathe through his mouth.
"I think he wants the gag off," Halle says, like it's the funniest thing in the whole goddamn world.
Alle doesn't respond immediately, as he's too busy rocking gently in and out of Lyle's ass, his hands on Lyle's hips keeping both of them steady. But he does answer after long moments, in and out, in and out, and then: "Take it off, then?"
Lyle can just about feel Halle's domination pressing over Alle, contempt at the pseudo-order and even more contempt in general at the idea of Alle topping anyone. Despite that, Halle reaches up and slides his nails under one corner of the duct tape, and with a quick, short jerk pulls it off.
The scream Lyle gives is still muffled by the cloth in his mouth, but not much. Behind him, Alle groans at the tightening-up, and his fingers dig into Lyle's hip.
Halle takes the cloth out of Lyle's mouth and drops it on the carpet. Lyle knows he never forgot that they're in his room this time rather than the basement, but he's reminded of that knowledge all over again, and shifts his feet to feel the softness of carpet under his toes instead of a dusty basement floor. The combination of sensation and knowledge makes him groan, and he is amazed at the way it sounds, so loud and full. He cuts off halfway through it, shocked at the too-loud sound.
Behind him Alle laughs, but it's breathless. Halle sits down on Lyle's bed, leaning back on his hands and just watching Alle fuck him. Nice and steady, and Lyle can see Halle watching like a hawk and has no idea that Alle has been told--via magical brainwaves, no doubt--to make Lyle come again.
Just as he's thinking that, Alle's hand closes around his erection; Lyle practically melts back against Alle, moaning and marveling at the sound of the moan, and moaning again. It is beautiful and amazing to be able to draw in so much breath, too, so that when he finally does come a few minutes later it's nearly a scream.
In a flash Halle is off of the bed, guiding Lyle's arms around his neck and supporting Lyle from falling because his knees aren't worth a damn at this point and his head is spinning from the orgasm, and he can't seem to catch his breath no matter how much air he draws in.
"Come," Halle says, low and gruff, and behind Lyle Allelujah slams in one more time and stills, and gives this choked little noise like a whine and a groan had some sort of child and this was what came of it.
Lyle's head still isn't in exactly the right place, he thinks, but it's cool. Halle and Alle are walking him in slow steps over to the bed. For a moment Halle detaches to strip all of the blankets off of the bed, and comes back to help Alle lower Lyle down onto it.
Of course he lies down directly on one of the tender spots on his hip, but whatever, the pain's just a little jolt, enough to make him jerk but nothing more. It can't even get him hard again, which is pretty fucking amazing in and of itself.
For a time Lyle and Alle lie there on the bed. Halle lies a little bit too, but he's full of energy and he isn't the one who just had an orgasm, so before long he's cuddling up behind Allelujah. Lyle smiles at the sight of his teeth on Alle's shoulder, white on their light caramel skintone, while Alle moans and reaches back to touch Halle's face.
Halle snaps at Alle's fingers, which makes Lyle huff out something that might be a laugh if he had more energy for such things, but as it is, is barely more than a sigh.
"You tired him out," Alle says playfully, an undercurrent to his words that makes Lyle's skin prickle for some reason. Challenge, maybe?
But Halle does not answer. Halle only reaches around and cups Allelujah's spent sex, coaxing it back to life with touches that skate the line between rough and impersonal. Alle with his eyes closed and his head tipped back and Halle half-wrapped around him like a possessive bastard--which he is--is a beautiful, beautiful thing.
Lyle's cock twitches, and twin smiles spread across Halle and Alle's faces.
Oh, Lyle thinks. This is what they were waiting for. Then: Oh, fuck. "You can't possibly--"
"That sounds like a challenge." Alle does not, so far as Lyle can tell, sound at all unhappy about this.
"It isn't," Lyle responds, quickly. Too quickly.
Halle just grins. The bastard doesn't need words to get his point across, clearly.
Lyle takes a deep breath and lets it out, and then raises one arm and lets it flop back down. "Whatever it is you have in mind, I'd better fucking be able to do it lying down. There's no way I'm standing up again anytime soon."
Alle looks to Halle for answer, and Halle just shrugs. "Stay where you are." He touches Alle's hair, tangling his fingers in it, uses his grip to pull Alle's head back. "Suck him like a good little slut."
Naturally Alle hastens to obey, and Lyle cannot in any way be unhappy about this turn of events. Even if at the first touch of Alle's lips on Lyle's cock Lyle shudders almost convulsively; oversensitive doesn't quite cover it.
Somewhere behind him, Halle is picking up one of the pipes. Lyle thinks, surely not, because he's fairly sure that Halle's threat to fuck him with one was empty, but then again Halle is rather psychotic...
The sound of the pipe bending is soft, and if there were sounds other than Allelujah blowing him he might've missed it. But there aren't, so he doesn't.
Behind him the bed shifts in as Halle climbs on top of it, and with a controlled jerk he slides the now sharply bent pipe under Lyle's head, coming from the top down. It's a miracle he doesn't take off Lyle's ear in the process.
But now he has the copper pipe settled so nicely around his neck. Lyle shudders in anticipation, and Halle pulls on the pipe just enough to make breathing interesting. Alle's teeth scrape over Lyle's cock, just lightly but he's still oversensitive enough that it makes his entire body jerk. Halle's chuckle is low and pleased.
Lyle is nearly tempted to ask what now, but he's fairly sure that asking that would either earn him a lot less or a lot more time before--whatever they're doing next. A thought floats in out of nowhere: stage three. He nearly laughs, but manages to make it a cough at the last minute.
"I know that fucking pipe's not choking you that badly, cocksucker," Halle says, with his own brutal brand of giving a shit whether Lyle dies or not from this.
It's a Herculean effort not to say anything, but Lyle makes it, biting down on his lip and stifling a mad case of the giggles that's threatening to overtake him.
Halle's fingers pressing between the cheeks of Lyle's ass are brutally efficient, slick but not nice with it, four sliding in at once in a way that makes Lyle squirm and whimper because not even Alle's cock was that fucking big. He can feel it when Halle's knuckles work their way inside of him, and Halle chooses that moment to pull on the pipe a little more.
Lyle's eyes roll back and he shudders all over, but there's no way he's coming anytime soon, not with two orgasms under his belt.
Obviously, Halle doesn't give a shit. He goes right on fingering--no, fisting--Lyle like there's some kind of purpose in it. There's no way in hell Lyle's going to complain, though, even when Halle lets up a little on the pipe; they can't really keep him on edge for however long it's going to take him to come. The only real measure of time is how much Alle switches from sucking to licking after a while, his jaw no doubt getting sore.
"Ready?" Alle asks, looking at Halle. Lyle tries to look over his shoulder, but Halle pulls the pipe tight and distracts Lyle entirely.
Whatever Halle's answer is, Lyle doesn't hear or see it. The only confirmation he gets that there is any answer at all is that the fisting stops and Halle shifts again. The pipe lets up entirely, no more pressure at all. "Think you can get on your knees, cocksucker?"
Lyle gives the question serious thought; experimentally he raises one arm. It lifts, but feels so goddamn heavy. Then again, kneeling isn't too difficult, especially if these two will support him. "Yeah."
Alle and Halle manhandle Lyle into a kneeling position. Lyle wavers but finds his center of balance after a few moments where he is kind of afraid that he might go toppling over to the bed again no matter what he said he's capable of. Halle's hands on his hips probably have a lot to do with the lack of falling over; there's no way he's going to fall over with Halle unless he's dying of blood loss or something.
Halle's cock slides inside of Lyle smoothly, so little resistance that it's almost laughable and slick as hell. More slippery even than fucking a girl on her period, he thinks. Rationally Lyle knows that their cocks--Halle and Alle's--must be the same size, but it doesn't feel that way. Alle's felt huge; Halle's feels too small, after the fisting.
Lyle's thinks that's intentional, as there's very little possibility that Halle doesn't know what he's doing, but in his disconnectedness he's not totally sure of it.
Alle resumes sucking Lyle off, and Lyle would be bent over Alle, moaning brokenly, if it weren't for Halle's hands pulling Lyle's arms back by the elbows and lacing through them, holding Lyle erect. Head lolling, Lyle is lost in the sensations, lost between Alle and Halle, as they no doubt intended him to be.
He is struck with the sudden thought that this is what he is to them: meat in the middle. A toy to meddle with. But trying to move, trying to fight back, has little purpose; his body won't obey him right now. Again, as they most likely intended.
"You bastards," he says instead, gasping the words out so that they sound almost pleading. They aren't, it's just the only way he can get any words to come out. "You-- fucking-- bastards."
Halle laughs, a maniacal sort of laugh that would be funny except it's also chilling, making Lyle shiver at the inherent violence present in just his laugh. He gets a few thrusts in, hard ones that shove Lyle's cock deeper into Alle's throat, and then asks, "Do you think you can stay up on your own?"
Yes. No. Maybe? "Yes." Despite everything, Lyle still wants what they're giving him. He wants to be meat in the middle, although next time they do it he's not going to let himself become so goddamn helpless.
"Good." Halle lets go of Lyle's arms, but slowly, so as not to put Lyle off his balance. (Yet, Lyle's mind adds, with a hint of anticipation.)
"If you can't, just lean back," Alle says, his words muffled slightly by cock but still intelligible.
Halle fists a hand in Alle's hair. "Did I tell you to say anything, slut? Get back to what you're good at."
When Alle does as he's told, Halle wraps his long fingers around the back of Alle's head and pulls Alle's face down hard against Lyle's cock, making him deep throat all at once. Alle's good, though; he doesn't choke, and doesn't struggle.
Meanwhile, Halle's pushed his cock inside Lyle as far as it will go, and is grinding in slow circles that are making Lyle's nerve endings shout out pleasure through his whole fucking body. He lets up on Alle's head and thrusts a few times, each thrust driving Lyle's cock into and pulling it out of Alle's mouth.
Meat in the middle, Lyle thinks. The best kind. At this rate they might actually get him to come a third time.
They try so many different varieties that Lyle loses track. Halle thrusting, Alle holding still. Halle holding still, Alle moving back and forth. Both at once, same rhythm, different rhythm.
Before long Lyle finds that supporting himself really is too much fucking work and leans back against Halle, his head lolling against that strong shoulder. He can smell the sweat and licks a little off of the side of Halle's neck.
Halle doesn't stop. He's like a fucking machine, like-- like-- the Energizer top, or something, Lyle has no fucking idea because coherent thoughts are becoming less and less possible the further they drive him toward orgasm. The pleasure doesn't coil this time; the pleasure falls all into a pile, and the pile gets bigger and bigger, and once he's at a certain height there's no turning back.
Lyle screams when he comes and nearly passes out. Or maybe he does. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them Alle is sitting on the bed, watching. Halle is growling and digging his fingers in, then biting down hard on Lyle's shoulder and coming as well. Lyle smells blood; his consciousness feels buoyed by the scent.
There's pain where Halle bit, but Lyle's so disconnected that he can hardly feel any pleasure from it. Just a vague sort of annoyance, because the pain's forcing him to pay more attention than he wants to in regards to what's going on with his body.
Alle helps Halle guide Lyle back onto the bed, and then lies down and puts one arm over Lyle's hip and kisses him.
Responding to the kiss would be too much work; Lyle doesn't. He sort of leans toward Alle, but it's like he's controlling his body by remote and it takes a few seconds for the commands to transmit. By the time Lyle's moved, Halle is snuggling up behind Lyle, putting a hand above Alle's, over Lyle's hip, his hand cupping Alle's ass.
They don't say anything, but Alle pets Lyle's face with his other hand, and Halle presses kisses to the back of Lyle's neck every so often.
I must be bleeding on the sheet, Lyle thinks absently, at some point. But he can't hold on to the thought, any more than he can respond adequately to the pets and the snuggling.
And once again he's meat in the middle.
Halle bites Lyle's other shoulder, and the sudden pain slams Lyle back into his body. All at once Lyle's groaning, squirming and trying to reach back to cup Halle's neck and hold him there, but Halle's wise to the game and pulls away before Lyle can coordinate his actions enough to do what he wants.
"Bastards," Lyle says, sighing the word out as his arm flops back down.
"We certainly hope so," Alle says, all bright enjoyment.
For some reason, even though Lyle can't hear or see Halle, Lyle is suddenly certain that Halle agrees with Alle's statement. Something about the way his hands cup Lyle's hip, the way he settles back down against him.
Bastards, Lyle thinks, and gives up on maintaining consciousness any longer.
◊
When Lyle wakes up, they are gone.
But there's a carefully folded piece of paper on his nightstand. Lyle stretches to reach it and groans at all of his injuries screaming protests at him. His hand fumbles a bit, and knocks over the copper pipes that Halle and Alle didn't take home.
Lyle stares at the scrawl at the top of the page, and eventually works out that it says Enjoy your gifts. The handwriting is as sharp and violent as the one who wrote it. All angles and going a little too far.
Alle's handwriting is neater, but not by much. We'll be back once you heal.
Lyle sets the note back on the nightstand and sits up--groaning again in pain, even as his cock twitches--and decides that maybe it's time for them to rent out that empty room. It's been vacant long enough, and six weeks is an adequate courtship.
Besides, payback's a bitch.
Previous section (1)
Sections: 1, 2
"Remember what I asked you at the beginning?" Alle asks, a week later, making Lyle's head snap up because he did not hear Alle come in. Didn't even hear Alle climbing the stairs, but there he is, standing by the door like he belongs there.
Lyle does remember. "About the bones."
Alle nods. "Do you want to hear?"
Does he want to hear? He's hard at the idea alone (these two are good at spotting every turn-on and abusing it) but he's not keen on spending the next few weeks recovering in the hospital.
At this point he's fairly sure that Halle's not going to kill him--not before he comes--but his desire to spend time at the hospital, no matter how good the sex is, is nearly zero. "Can't Halle come get me himself, if he wants me to hear?"
The way Alle doesn't freeze, doesn't look over his shoulder, and just smiles says that Halle is already here. Lyle looks over his shoulder just in time to take a fist to the face. He gasps at the pain, stumbling a little, and Halle pulls him back to a standing position by his hair. "Uppity bitch," he says, but not like it bothers him.
Just the opposite. Lyle can't help a smirk, and Halle reaches out of Lyle's field of vision for something--toward Alle--there's a sound like metal, but muted, and a few seconds later Halle brings the copper pipe into Lyle's field of vision. The end of it is ragged and pinched but it's thick enough that Halle's going to have to hit really fucking hard to do any damage to the pipe. Fantastic, Lyle thinks, with the small part of him that isn't dying of anticipation overload.
Without a word or glance passing between Halle and Alle, the former lets go of Lyle's hair and the latter seamlessly comes up behind Lyle to resume the hold. Lyle feels himself tensing, waiting for the blow, but Halle doesn't humor him just yet. He's pulled out a knife, and is cutting away Lyle's shirt, same as that day in the basement. Once again, part goes around his head for a blindfold, and another part ties his hands above his head.
He can't protect himself. He can't see where the blows will be coming from. He only thought that the anticipation was killing him before; now it's like walking on hot coals, so much ash between him and danger and he wants to just do this.
Halle trails the ragged end of the pipe over Lyle's back, a diagonal swipe where he digs in just enough for blood to flow wetly from the wound, trickling in little streams that join together to make a big stream down the center of his back.
Lyle yearns to say something, but there's a different tone to Halle and Alle's attention than before and he's so fucking afraid that if he says something to fuck it up, they'll abandon him and he'll spend the rest of his life looking for the same treatment and finding only pale comparisons.
It feels like an awful long time of just standing there and bleeding, but by the time the first blow comes Lyle's breathing is already ragged and unsteady. That makes it all the harder to regain his breath after the strike, and Halle takes full advantage, landing a barrage of blows over Lyle's torso and across his ass and even down on his legs.
Alle steps away from Lyle some time during that first barrage and there is again that dull metallic sound that means someone's doing something with the pipe, and Lyle gets a blow across the right side of his chest and his left hip at the same goddamn time.
He shudders with reaction, pain and pleasure twined together even as the ragged ends of both pipes trail respectively down and up across his stomach, making an X of searing pain like fireworks in his mind. They don't press as hard as the cut on his back, so the blood doesn't gush as readily, but Lyle can still smell it, a sharpness in the air that makes his cock throb with want of attention.
Lyle nearly says please, nearly begs for it, but then he remembers that he's been putting up with their attention for how many weeks now without release--another twenty minutes or even an hour isn't going to make a hell of a lot of difference.
Halle chuckles, to Lyle's right, and one of them brings his pipe down in a hard smack across his ass. The clothes muffle what could be beautifully painful into just painful, not pushing Lyle's limits at all.
He wants his jeans off; he wants to be naked for this. "Can I--"
A hand covers his mouth, slapping over his lips painfully and pressing him back so hard he overbalances and falls back against someone. Against Alle, who got naked at some point, because the cut on his back is oversensitive and that's not cloth it's pressing against.
Alle laughs, but it's not a nice laugh, and he rakes his fingernail up the length of the cut on Lyle's back; Lyle shivers happily. "What do you suppose he's asking for?" Alle asks, although not like he actually wonders. They already know, Lyle's fairly sure.
"More of the pipes?" Halle mock-guesses, and brings down his pipe hard on Lyle's stomach. Lyle coughs, but he doesn't gag and he makes himself straighten back out, opening himself up for more, more.
"Could be."
One of the pipes hits Lyle's balls from below, not so hard that he gags, but hard enough. Lyle bites down on his lip and leans back into Alle's embrace, and feels the pipe's rough end pressing against his balls through the jeans, pushing them this way and that. It feels like it's Alle doing it, based on the angle, but Lyle can feel both of Alle's hands on his back, holding him, so it can't be Alle.
"Think we should give him what he wants?" Alle asks, and from the tone Lyle can tell that he's inclined to do just that.
Halle, on the other hand, is not, if the sharp crack of the pipe into Lyle's temple is anything to go by. He sees colors and swirls of color and starbursts behind his eyes, but he does not pass out, and his erection is unbothered. (Harder than ever, actually.)
For the first time, Lyle wonders if he's meant to live through this. He wonders exactly what Alle meant by warning him to not let Halle lose interest; he wonders if Halle ever leaves his toys intact after he's lost interest.
The pipe comes down again, another barrage that distracts Lyle nicely from his thoughts. If Halle's not psychic--magic brainwaves, he remembers suddenly--he is at least very good at reading people.
Lyle loses himself in the beating for a while; they take turns supporting him, and making cuts, and at one point his jeans come off and the very first thing he gets is a wallop right across his ass. He jumps, dragging in breath, and breathes out a shaky moan because someone's playing with his nipples, fingers and then a mouth tasting his blood and sucking one nipple and moving up for a kiss.
It's Alle, which he really should have figured out right away from the distinct lack of teeth on his chest, but Lyle is just grateful and kisses back greedily, finding that his knees go weak at the taste of blood.
Halle slips out from behind Lyle, letting Alle's hands on his shoulders keep him steady, and kneels in front of Lyle. He rubs his face against Lyle's crotch through his jeans first, and then mouths, then bites right on the side of Lyle's cock.
His breath dies in his throat, no chance for anything like a moan or a scream or whatever else, even if his brain was firing enough to let him do that much, and his knees turn to Jello. From there he has a controlled sort of fall to the ground, which ends with Halle and Alle both laughing breathlessly and hauling him back up, pressed up against him from behind and in front.
They're kissing over to the left; he can hear it, and feel the way one of their chins keeps rubbing against his elbow while Allelujah's cock goes from half-hard to all the way hard and pressing against the gash on Lyle's back.
One of them rips Lyle's blindfold off but does not do anything about his hands, then wads the blindfold up and stuffs it in Lyle's mouth. It tastes of sweat and cotton, and he nearly spits it out, but then Halle--with a smirk that is deviousness itself--puts tape over the gag to keep it there.
Breathing gets a little harder, and Lyle's heart kicks it up a gear as Halle bites down on his cock again. Stage two, Lyle thinks, but in an abstract sort of way, distant as the stars.
Halle relaxes his jaw and the pain on Lyle's cock abates, but with a pulsing after feeling that means he wasn't imagining it; that really fucking hurt.
Alle reaches around and unbuckles Lyle's belt while Halle is still busy mouthing Lyle through his jeans. He pulls the belt out of its loops and brings it up, and uses it to further secure Lyle's wrists.
Whatever they're going to do to him, they're worried that he's going to fight it. Interesting. Lyle twists his wrists experimentally once Alle has the belt buckled, but between the pieces of his shirt and the belt all he can do is twist; there's no give for him to use to get out.
And yet, dread isn't creeping into Lyle's mind. Just anticipation, just want of this thing that they're preparing him for so carefully.
Alle presses a kiss to the back of Lyle's neck, then between his shoulder blades, then scrapes his teeth along the cut on Lyle's back. Lyle shudders, moaning, but the gag catches the sound and all that comes out is a muffled mmmm sort of noise. He's testing it, Lyle realizes belatedly once the two of them are busy manhandling his jeans and boxer-briefs off, Alle's gentle hands steadying him as he lifts one foot and then the other so that they can remove the offending clothes.
Now his clothes are off, Lyle can look down at Halle and watch as those teeth scrape along his cock again, yellow eye looking up while his hair covers the blue one. Lyle enjoys the hell out of this vantage point, enjoys watching those strong, deft fingers squeeze his balls and the way the edges of Halle's lips curl upward when Lyle gives another gag-muffled moan.
Alle's hands urge Lyle's legs apart, and Lyle spreads his legs obediently, wide enough for Halle to stick his head between them and bite down hard enough to draw blood on one side of Lyle's ass. Lyle's eyes roll back in his head and he feels his knees weaken a little, but Alle's there, holding him up until Halle goes back to playing with Lyle's cock instead.
Another kiss against the back of Lyle's neck. Lyle looks over his shoulder in time to see Alle kneel, and feels slick fingers pushing into him at the same time that Halle finally, finally stops toying with Lyle's cock and starts sucking it. Of course he still uses his teeth, but Lyle's not in any way going to complain about that.
Not when he can feel the heat in his belly coiling tight and building up and up, so much delicious pressure and the knowledge that this time they're not going to stop; this time they're going to let him come. He knows it as surely as he knows that there will be blood on his carpet by the end, if there isn't already, and that there is nothing he can do to ever escape these two.
Alle curls his fingers inside of Lyle, rubbing over his prostate. Once, and again, and again, and that's the last little push that Lyle needs. His orgasm feels almost like it's ripped out of him, by those teeth and those long fingers and the cuts and the places where he's tender from being hit with the pipes. It explodes in his mind like pyrotechnics, brilliant and full of color and vitality.
Lyle doesn't quite lose consciousness, but he does find himself on his knees without meaning to be, up close and personal with Halle's teeth in a way that makes him groan brokenly. The gag steals all the moans and groans, steals the begging he wants to do, steals everything and only emits that same mmmm as before.
Halle's leer is only slightly frightening, in Lyle's current state, but his mouth waters at the sight of semen on Halle's cheek. Lyle leans forward, angling his hands so that he can wipe the semen off onto his fingers and then offer his messy fingers to those teeth.
"For me?" Halle asks, faux-surprise. "You shouldn't have." He pauses, tosses his bangs out of his eyes, and Lyle looks into those skew-eyes until he feels like they're under his skin, until it's like Halle knows his darkest secrets. "Alle."
Obedient to Halle as ever, Alle comes around to the front, and when Halle motions to Lyle's fingers he cleans them off with special care. Slow and sensual, and pushing Lyle's hands back to the top of his head before pressing a kiss against Lyle's jaw.
The one who helps Lyle back to his feet is, for a surprise, Halle. Lyle stares at him blankly, and Halle sneers.
That, Lyle thinks, is more like it. He'd be smiling, if not for the gag.
Alle resumes his position behind Lyle, those slick fingers so agile that Lyle hardly needs to push back against them, but he does anyway. It doesn’t hurt to show them that he's eager to be fucked. Not this time, when his limbs are already lethargic from orgasm, when their actions make promises of more.
"Greedy," Halle comments, but not like it's a bad thing. His expression says that it's a good thing, good enough that he's going over to pick up one of those copper pipes again. He turns it over and over in his hands, like he's examining it, but there's no way he doesn't already know every inch of that pipe. "How would you like it if I fucked you with this?"
Lyle's breath catches and his cock twitches and begins to harden again.
Halle's grin is malice itself, hostility and rancor personified and directed right at Lyle. He shivers, and Alle thrusts his fingers particularly deep. Lyle's eyes roll back a little and he groans but once more the only sound that comes out is a muffled mmmm.
"What do you think, Alle?" Halle rubs the flat of the pipe up and down Lyle's side, just hard enough to seek out all of the most tender areas. Lyle does his best not to react, but he can't help leaning into that touch just a little.
"I think you promised me I'd get to fuck him first," Alle says, and Lyle can feel the words against his ass, feel the hotness of Alle's breath and the desire in the tone.
Halle snorts, almost dismissively. "You'd better get the fuck to it, or I'm going to change my mind."
For a surprise, Alle doesn't say anything like Yes Sir; he just pulls his fingers out and Lyle can look over his shoulder just enough to watch Alle slick up his cock. Lyle leans over the slightest bit, pushing his ass toward that magnificent specimen, and then gets the treat of being able to watch as every inch of it sinks into him.
When Alle's buried to the hilt, Lyle lets his head hang, dragging in breaths as best he can and wishing fervently for the ability to breathe through his mouth.
"I think he wants the gag off," Halle says, like it's the funniest thing in the whole goddamn world.
Alle doesn't respond immediately, as he's too busy rocking gently in and out of Lyle's ass, his hands on Lyle's hips keeping both of them steady. But he does answer after long moments, in and out, in and out, and then: "Take it off, then?"
Lyle can just about feel Halle's domination pressing over Alle, contempt at the pseudo-order and even more contempt in general at the idea of Alle topping anyone. Despite that, Halle reaches up and slides his nails under one corner of the duct tape, and with a quick, short jerk pulls it off.
The scream Lyle gives is still muffled by the cloth in his mouth, but not much. Behind him, Alle groans at the tightening-up, and his fingers dig into Lyle's hip.
Halle takes the cloth out of Lyle's mouth and drops it on the carpet. Lyle knows he never forgot that they're in his room this time rather than the basement, but he's reminded of that knowledge all over again, and shifts his feet to feel the softness of carpet under his toes instead of a dusty basement floor. The combination of sensation and knowledge makes him groan, and he is amazed at the way it sounds, so loud and full. He cuts off halfway through it, shocked at the too-loud sound.
Behind him Alle laughs, but it's breathless. Halle sits down on Lyle's bed, leaning back on his hands and just watching Alle fuck him. Nice and steady, and Lyle can see Halle watching like a hawk and has no idea that Alle has been told--via magical brainwaves, no doubt--to make Lyle come again.
Just as he's thinking that, Alle's hand closes around his erection; Lyle practically melts back against Alle, moaning and marveling at the sound of the moan, and moaning again. It is beautiful and amazing to be able to draw in so much breath, too, so that when he finally does come a few minutes later it's nearly a scream.
In a flash Halle is off of the bed, guiding Lyle's arms around his neck and supporting Lyle from falling because his knees aren't worth a damn at this point and his head is spinning from the orgasm, and he can't seem to catch his breath no matter how much air he draws in.
"Come," Halle says, low and gruff, and behind Lyle Allelujah slams in one more time and stills, and gives this choked little noise like a whine and a groan had some sort of child and this was what came of it.
Lyle's head still isn't in exactly the right place, he thinks, but it's cool. Halle and Alle are walking him in slow steps over to the bed. For a moment Halle detaches to strip all of the blankets off of the bed, and comes back to help Alle lower Lyle down onto it.
Of course he lies down directly on one of the tender spots on his hip, but whatever, the pain's just a little jolt, enough to make him jerk but nothing more. It can't even get him hard again, which is pretty fucking amazing in and of itself.
For a time Lyle and Alle lie there on the bed. Halle lies a little bit too, but he's full of energy and he isn't the one who just had an orgasm, so before long he's cuddling up behind Allelujah. Lyle smiles at the sight of his teeth on Alle's shoulder, white on their light caramel skintone, while Alle moans and reaches back to touch Halle's face.
Halle snaps at Alle's fingers, which makes Lyle huff out something that might be a laugh if he had more energy for such things, but as it is, is barely more than a sigh.
"You tired him out," Alle says playfully, an undercurrent to his words that makes Lyle's skin prickle for some reason. Challenge, maybe?
But Halle does not answer. Halle only reaches around and cups Allelujah's spent sex, coaxing it back to life with touches that skate the line between rough and impersonal. Alle with his eyes closed and his head tipped back and Halle half-wrapped around him like a possessive bastard--which he is--is a beautiful, beautiful thing.
Lyle's cock twitches, and twin smiles spread across Halle and Alle's faces.
Oh, Lyle thinks. This is what they were waiting for. Then: Oh, fuck. "You can't possibly--"
"That sounds like a challenge." Alle does not, so far as Lyle can tell, sound at all unhappy about this.
"It isn't," Lyle responds, quickly. Too quickly.
Halle just grins. The bastard doesn't need words to get his point across, clearly.
Lyle takes a deep breath and lets it out, and then raises one arm and lets it flop back down. "Whatever it is you have in mind, I'd better fucking be able to do it lying down. There's no way I'm standing up again anytime soon."
Alle looks to Halle for answer, and Halle just shrugs. "Stay where you are." He touches Alle's hair, tangling his fingers in it, uses his grip to pull Alle's head back. "Suck him like a good little slut."
Naturally Alle hastens to obey, and Lyle cannot in any way be unhappy about this turn of events. Even if at the first touch of Alle's lips on Lyle's cock Lyle shudders almost convulsively; oversensitive doesn't quite cover it.
Somewhere behind him, Halle is picking up one of the pipes. Lyle thinks, surely not, because he's fairly sure that Halle's threat to fuck him with one was empty, but then again Halle is rather psychotic...
The sound of the pipe bending is soft, and if there were sounds other than Allelujah blowing him he might've missed it. But there aren't, so he doesn't.
Behind him the bed shifts in as Halle climbs on top of it, and with a controlled jerk he slides the now sharply bent pipe under Lyle's head, coming from the top down. It's a miracle he doesn't take off Lyle's ear in the process.
But now he has the copper pipe settled so nicely around his neck. Lyle shudders in anticipation, and Halle pulls on the pipe just enough to make breathing interesting. Alle's teeth scrape over Lyle's cock, just lightly but he's still oversensitive enough that it makes his entire body jerk. Halle's chuckle is low and pleased.
Lyle is nearly tempted to ask what now, but he's fairly sure that asking that would either earn him a lot less or a lot more time before--whatever they're doing next. A thought floats in out of nowhere: stage three. He nearly laughs, but manages to make it a cough at the last minute.
"I know that fucking pipe's not choking you that badly, cocksucker," Halle says, with his own brutal brand of giving a shit whether Lyle dies or not from this.
It's a Herculean effort not to say anything, but Lyle makes it, biting down on his lip and stifling a mad case of the giggles that's threatening to overtake him.
Halle's fingers pressing between the cheeks of Lyle's ass are brutally efficient, slick but not nice with it, four sliding in at once in a way that makes Lyle squirm and whimper because not even Alle's cock was that fucking big. He can feel it when Halle's knuckles work their way inside of him, and Halle chooses that moment to pull on the pipe a little more.
Lyle's eyes roll back and he shudders all over, but there's no way he's coming anytime soon, not with two orgasms under his belt.
Obviously, Halle doesn't give a shit. He goes right on fingering--no, fisting--Lyle like there's some kind of purpose in it. There's no way in hell Lyle's going to complain, though, even when Halle lets up a little on the pipe; they can't really keep him on edge for however long it's going to take him to come. The only real measure of time is how much Alle switches from sucking to licking after a while, his jaw no doubt getting sore.
"Ready?" Alle asks, looking at Halle. Lyle tries to look over his shoulder, but Halle pulls the pipe tight and distracts Lyle entirely.
Whatever Halle's answer is, Lyle doesn't hear or see it. The only confirmation he gets that there is any answer at all is that the fisting stops and Halle shifts again. The pipe lets up entirely, no more pressure at all. "Think you can get on your knees, cocksucker?"
Lyle gives the question serious thought; experimentally he raises one arm. It lifts, but feels so goddamn heavy. Then again, kneeling isn't too difficult, especially if these two will support him. "Yeah."
Alle and Halle manhandle Lyle into a kneeling position. Lyle wavers but finds his center of balance after a few moments where he is kind of afraid that he might go toppling over to the bed again no matter what he said he's capable of. Halle's hands on his hips probably have a lot to do with the lack of falling over; there's no way he's going to fall over with Halle unless he's dying of blood loss or something.
Halle's cock slides inside of Lyle smoothly, so little resistance that it's almost laughable and slick as hell. More slippery even than fucking a girl on her period, he thinks. Rationally Lyle knows that their cocks--Halle and Alle's--must be the same size, but it doesn't feel that way. Alle's felt huge; Halle's feels too small, after the fisting.
Lyle's thinks that's intentional, as there's very little possibility that Halle doesn't know what he's doing, but in his disconnectedness he's not totally sure of it.
Alle resumes sucking Lyle off, and Lyle would be bent over Alle, moaning brokenly, if it weren't for Halle's hands pulling Lyle's arms back by the elbows and lacing through them, holding Lyle erect. Head lolling, Lyle is lost in the sensations, lost between Alle and Halle, as they no doubt intended him to be.
He is struck with the sudden thought that this is what he is to them: meat in the middle. A toy to meddle with. But trying to move, trying to fight back, has little purpose; his body won't obey him right now. Again, as they most likely intended.
"You bastards," he says instead, gasping the words out so that they sound almost pleading. They aren't, it's just the only way he can get any words to come out. "You-- fucking-- bastards."
Halle laughs, a maniacal sort of laugh that would be funny except it's also chilling, making Lyle shiver at the inherent violence present in just his laugh. He gets a few thrusts in, hard ones that shove Lyle's cock deeper into Alle's throat, and then asks, "Do you think you can stay up on your own?"
Yes. No. Maybe? "Yes." Despite everything, Lyle still wants what they're giving him. He wants to be meat in the middle, although next time they do it he's not going to let himself become so goddamn helpless.
"Good." Halle lets go of Lyle's arms, but slowly, so as not to put Lyle off his balance. (Yet, Lyle's mind adds, with a hint of anticipation.)
"If you can't, just lean back," Alle says, his words muffled slightly by cock but still intelligible.
Halle fists a hand in Alle's hair. "Did I tell you to say anything, slut? Get back to what you're good at."
When Alle does as he's told, Halle wraps his long fingers around the back of Alle's head and pulls Alle's face down hard against Lyle's cock, making him deep throat all at once. Alle's good, though; he doesn't choke, and doesn't struggle.
Meanwhile, Halle's pushed his cock inside Lyle as far as it will go, and is grinding in slow circles that are making Lyle's nerve endings shout out pleasure through his whole fucking body. He lets up on Alle's head and thrusts a few times, each thrust driving Lyle's cock into and pulling it out of Alle's mouth.
Meat in the middle, Lyle thinks. The best kind. At this rate they might actually get him to come a third time.
They try so many different varieties that Lyle loses track. Halle thrusting, Alle holding still. Halle holding still, Alle moving back and forth. Both at once, same rhythm, different rhythm.
Before long Lyle finds that supporting himself really is too much fucking work and leans back against Halle, his head lolling against that strong shoulder. He can smell the sweat and licks a little off of the side of Halle's neck.
Halle doesn't stop. He's like a fucking machine, like-- like-- the Energizer top, or something, Lyle has no fucking idea because coherent thoughts are becoming less and less possible the further they drive him toward orgasm. The pleasure doesn't coil this time; the pleasure falls all into a pile, and the pile gets bigger and bigger, and once he's at a certain height there's no turning back.
Lyle screams when he comes and nearly passes out. Or maybe he does. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them Alle is sitting on the bed, watching. Halle is growling and digging his fingers in, then biting down hard on Lyle's shoulder and coming as well. Lyle smells blood; his consciousness feels buoyed by the scent.
There's pain where Halle bit, but Lyle's so disconnected that he can hardly feel any pleasure from it. Just a vague sort of annoyance, because the pain's forcing him to pay more attention than he wants to in regards to what's going on with his body.
Alle helps Halle guide Lyle back onto the bed, and then lies down and puts one arm over Lyle's hip and kisses him.
Responding to the kiss would be too much work; Lyle doesn't. He sort of leans toward Alle, but it's like he's controlling his body by remote and it takes a few seconds for the commands to transmit. By the time Lyle's moved, Halle is snuggling up behind Lyle, putting a hand above Alle's, over Lyle's hip, his hand cupping Alle's ass.
They don't say anything, but Alle pets Lyle's face with his other hand, and Halle presses kisses to the back of Lyle's neck every so often.
I must be bleeding on the sheet, Lyle thinks absently, at some point. But he can't hold on to the thought, any more than he can respond adequately to the pets and the snuggling.
And once again he's meat in the middle.
Halle bites Lyle's other shoulder, and the sudden pain slams Lyle back into his body. All at once Lyle's groaning, squirming and trying to reach back to cup Halle's neck and hold him there, but Halle's wise to the game and pulls away before Lyle can coordinate his actions enough to do what he wants.
"Bastards," Lyle says, sighing the word out as his arm flops back down.
"We certainly hope so," Alle says, all bright enjoyment.
For some reason, even though Lyle can't hear or see Halle, Lyle is suddenly certain that Halle agrees with Alle's statement. Something about the way his hands cup Lyle's hip, the way he settles back down against him.
Bastards, Lyle thinks, and gives up on maintaining consciousness any longer.
◊
When Lyle wakes up, they are gone.
But there's a carefully folded piece of paper on his nightstand. Lyle stretches to reach it and groans at all of his injuries screaming protests at him. His hand fumbles a bit, and knocks over the copper pipes that Halle and Alle didn't take home.
Lyle stares at the scrawl at the top of the page, and eventually works out that it says Enjoy your gifts. The handwriting is as sharp and violent as the one who wrote it. All angles and going a little too far.
Alle's handwriting is neater, but not by much. We'll be back once you heal.
Lyle sets the note back on the nightstand and sits up--groaning again in pain, even as his cock twitches--and decides that maybe it's time for them to rent out that empty room. It's been vacant long enough, and six weeks is an adequate courtship.
Besides, payback's a bitch.
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