Electric Love (Halle/Lyle/Alle, RSA)
Index/Timeline
Lyle spends the next few days half-expecting retribution for helping Alle with moving them in, but it never happens. There are times that make Lyle catch his breath and steel himself for punishment, but punishment never comes and every time Halle just gets this look on his face like this is exactly what he wants.
The third time it happens, Lyle figures it out: Halle's fucking with them. This uncertainty is their just deserts and Halle's relishing every second of it.
"He's not," Alle insists, when Lyle makes the mistake of telling him. "You don't know Halle. He'll fuck with us, yeah, but punishment will come sooner or later. He'll never let us get away with it."
Lyle might not have the breadth of experience with Halle that Alle does, but he's not stupid. This is their punishment, and to think anything else is silly. If Alle wants to walk around on eggshells for the next few weeks until he figures out that Lyle's right he is welcome to do that, but Lyle's not joining him. End of story.
◊
"I know what you're doing," Lyle tells Halle a week or so later. He's not been counting the days, precisely, but he's very cognizant of the fact that it's only been thirteen days since Alle moved both of them in.
Okay, maybe he is counting the days.
Halle just stares at him, like are you going to finish that sentence, or will I have the pleasure of beating the words out of you?
Lyle shrugs. He's still on the mend from last week, but a beating would never go amiss. "With Alle, I mean." Since they both know Lyle's not responding to their punishment anymore.
"You figured that out a week ago." Halle tosses his head and his bangs cease to cover his eyes; that skew-gaze is erotic as fuck, staring into Lyle's soul and making it look easy. "Why bring it up now?"
"'Cause you're going to give him a heart attack at this rate." Alle woke all of them up with a screaming nightmare the other night, probably directly connected to the fact that Halle gave Alle a slow, leisurely fucking that was tender and loving and all the things Halle isn't supposed to exhibit.
Halle's grin sends a shiver down Lyle's spine, that fight-or-flight instinct going straight to his cock. The stance of Halle's feet says he can smell Lyle's arousal; fucking bloodhound. "He'll figure it out. Sooner or later."
"He can't," Lyle says, and earns a sharp slap to the face for his trouble. He laughs, not manic but breathless. "I told him and he refuses to believe it. 'He'll fuck with us, but punishment will come,' he says. He refuses to get it, Halle, don't you fucking see that?"
"And if I do?"
Lyle didn't consider that option, actually. "Then-- I mean-- what's the point--"
"Timing." Halle's smile isn't anything like nice. "You got any other fucking stupid questions you're burning to have answered?"
Yes, Lyle thinks. "No. Go off and do whatever the hell it is you two do every day."
"Wouldn't you like to know," Halle says, and makes a mock-kissy face at Lyle. "Maybe someday we'll tell you."
That is highly unlikely, but he's curious anyway. He knows better than than to try and get an answer out of Halle, but Alle is another matter. Alle is apt to say silly things, after a really good session.
He'll have to go diving for information sometime later this week. For the moment, though, he needs to get to campus; modeling for life drawing class starts in an hour.
◊
Lyle has a hypothesis, but testing out that hypothesis requires that Halle not be anywhere around when Lyle and Alle fuck. It's another four days before that happens; Lyle purposefully crawls into Alle's lap and kisses him slow and easy.
No roughness. No demanding.
Alle kisses back, and Lyle can feel him smiling into the kiss. Hear that low, pleased hum and the tentative touch of those broad hands on Lyle's hair. Like he's asking permission, but Lyle pretends that he doesn't notice and continues on with the kiss instead.
It takes long, long moments of kissing for Alle to either get the message or get the guts to proceed without his actions being okayed, but he does get it and eventually long fingers pet Lyle's hair. Tangle in it and pet and stroke, and Lyle thinks that he could get used to this. It's a bit like fucking Neil.
And isn't that a fucking weird idea--Alle, similar to Neil.
Lyle pushes the idea away and touches Alle's chest through his shirt, light touches that skate the line of teasing and delivery. Once again, it takes long moments before Alle proceeds, but eventually one hand comes down and guides Lyle's hand inside his shirt, pressing it against one pectoral as Alle breaks the kisses and gives Lyle a smile. "You don't have to be slow like this," he whispers.
"What if I want to?" Lyle smiles right back at Alle, and claims his lips once more. The kisses turn slightly more fevered, but not forceful. Not demanding or dominating. Just two guys sharing kiss after kiss.
Alle's the one to break the kisses a second time, leaning his head back against the couch and drawing in deep breaths, letting them out as moans. "Lyle, I--"
"Shh." Lyle pulls Alle's shirt off, getting it stuck on one of his arms but getting it off eventually and throwing it aside. His own shirt, which is not skintight, comes off much easier. Alle's fingers find Lyle's nipples and Lyle leans down to taste the skin of Alle's neck. Sweat and soap--Lyle's soap, actually--and Alle. Lyle whimpers, shivering a little. "Fuck me?" he asks, not daring to lift his head and see the answer on Alle's face.
"You want to ride me?"
It's a good inference based on their position, but it's not exactly what Lyle had in mind. The coffee table is made out of stern stuff, and Lyle's wanted to be fucked on it ever since Halle and Alle moved in. "No. The table, if it's cool." Silly to say that; of course it will be cool. Alle will do anything, as long as his partner desires it.
"Mmm. Bent over it? Laying on top of it? Kneeling on top of it? Did you have a position in mind?"
"Kneeling on top of it." Not only is it the best option height-wise, but it also means that Alle is going to have to just fuck Lyle. Hopefully.
Alle's smile is beautiful. "That sounds good. Strip?"
Still making it a question. Lyle yearns to tell him make me, but that would be going back to the games and away from the hypothesis. Without responding verbally, Lyle stands and strips off his jeans and briefs. He grabs the towel he brought downstairs with him and puts it over the coffee table--more for padding than fear of making a mess--and assumes the position.
Long fingers down the center of Lyle's back make him shiver. He brought lubricant with him, too, and Alle takes advantage of it, warming it with his fingers before pushing two inside of Lyle. It seems like Alle's getting the idea of the experiment, or maybe he's just following Lyle's lead well, because he doesn't demand submission or try to dominate Lyle.
Alle just fucks Lyle. With his fingers, steady but not teasing, and then with his cock, the same way. Steady, hands on Lyle's hips at first, then one moving around to grip Lyle's cock as the thrusts get shallower, less steady, and faster. By the time Lyle comes, Alle's ready to come as well, and does so without being told, leaning over Lyle and groaning and panting.
He licks Lyle's semen off of his fingers, but that's normal. That's not a dominance thing; that's a Dylandy thing, as is the kiss afterward.
Of course that's when Neil walks in. He grimaces. "I thought you two had rooms so you could, you know, not fornicate in public."
Lyle just grins at him, mind still buzzing happily with orgasm and the pleasure of being right. "Don't be jealous, Neil."
Neil grimaces further. "How I could ever be jealous of--"
"We'll go upstairs," Alle says, cutting Neil off, and proceeds to pick Lyle up and carry him all the way to his room. Lyle's room, that is.
They curl up together, and Lyle is so pleased he can't help asking his question: "What is it that you and Halle do all day?"
Alle stiffens; Lyle isn't going to like the answer. Or he thinks that Lyle won't like the answer, at the very least. "You don't want to know."
Lyle's pretty sure he does want to know, actually, but whatever. "If you say so." He's going to have to fuck the hell out of Alle sometime and get an answer, but until then his hypothesis is confirmed: Alle doesn't need the dom/sub games to get off.
It's valuable information, and Lyle can't help wondering if Halle even knows.
◊
Finding the cat is an accident; Lyle's behind the student center thinking fondly of the days when he used to hide out back here and smoke. She comes walking up the alley like she owns the place, a beautiful calico that, going by her weight when he picks her up, is all puffy fur and no muscle.
She mews at him, and starts purring.
I am doomed, Lyle thinks with a resigned sort of sigh. "I'll see if Neil's up for there being a cat in the house," he tells her. "But if he says no, that's it; we're not keeping you."
Her only answer is another mew, and a revving up on the volume of the purring.
He's so very, very doomed.
◊
"Does it have fleas?" is the first question that Neil asks.
Of course it has fleas, Lyle thinks. It's been living out-of-doors in a temperate climate; if it didn't have fleas it would be some kind of miracle. But Lyle's thought of this, and stopped by a pet store on the way home and gotten some flea dip and one of those cheap cardboard carriers. "I can take care of her fleas. Anything else?"
"Who's going to pay for her?"
Lyle hesitates a moment, and in that moment Alle walks down the stairs and into the kitchen. "What's that I-- oh, a cat."
No respectable gambler would bet against the probability that Alle had meant to ask What's that I smell? All at once, a plan comes together in Lyle's mind. "Neil's just wondering who's going to pay for her."
"Oh," Alle says, catching Lyle's drift immediately. "I'm sure Halle and I could afford it, one way or another. Can I see her?"
Just as planned. "She has fleas. I'm about to clear out the kitchen sink and put flea dip on her."
"You'll need a hand with that, won't you? Bathing cats is dangerous."
"Have at it," Neil says, like he has any control left in the situation, and all but stomps out.
Alle stares after him, eyebrows furrowed. He returns his gaze to Lyle once Neil's gone. "What's up with him?"
You, Lyle thinks. "Haven't the foggiest. Help me clear these dishes away?"
By the end of applying the flea dip to the cat--and she was indeed crawling with fleas--Lyle was ready to petition the Catholic church to give sainthood to the individual who invented flea dip. Shampooing a cat would probably have been suicidal, if just applying the dip bit by bit with the washcloth got that reaction.
He's going to owe Alle some serious sex, if not for the scratches on his arms then for dumping this whole thing on him. But for the moment Alle has the cat and is sitting on the couch, cooing at her as she sits in his lap and the flea dip slowly dries.
This is working out to be an even better plan than Lyle thought it would be. "I'm going to go back to the pet store, okay?"
"Oh," Alle says suddenly, as if just realizing that Lyle is there as well. "Um-- well, we could take her with us. And take the car. If that's cool."
By the end of their shopping excursion, the cat has a collar, litter box and litter, a multitude of toys, one of those scratching posts, a king-sized bag of catnip, and a small bed. Lyle's pretty sure the bed was meant for dogs, but it'll suit the cat just fine if the fact that she's in it as soon as they set it down at the foot of Halle and Alle's bed is anything to go by.
Alle squats on the floor next to her and pets her on the head and scratches behind her ears. "Do you suppose she was really a feral cat? She's so... lovable."
Lyle didn't think about it before, but it seems unlikely that any feral would be so attached to humans. But she's skinny as a rail; she'd definitely been hacking it on her own for at least a little while. "If she had owners... I mean, she didn't have a collar and, well, look at how skinny she is."
"Yeah." Alle sits down and smiles broadly. Lyle's fairly sure he's never seen Alle look so abundantly happy and at peace and... everything.
Maybe now, he thinks. "Alle-- can I ask you something?"
The way Alle stiffens says oh fuck better than words can. "Sure. Lyle."
Breath in, breath out. Lyle sits down next to Alle on the floor. "I want to preface this by saying that I have my suspicions already, and I'm only asking because I want to hear this from you. Okay?"
"Okay." Alle unfreezes a little, but his movements are still a little too jerky.
"What is it that you and Halle actually do all day?"
Those skew-eyes squeeze closed, and Alle shakes his head. "I-- I... we do what we did to you. When we first met."
"Stalk people and fuck them?" It's not enough for Halle to fear visits from the cops; it's not enough for Alle to be this wound up about Lyle knowing. "That's not all."
Alle nods. "We kill people, too. Drug dealers. The people we fuck. Others. You know, it's just what we do."
It's exactly what he expected; he really can't have any reaction but acceptance unless he wants to be next up on their hit list. "Thank you for telling me." Lyle hugs him.
"You're welcome?" Alle sounds about ready to cry. "I--thank you for the cat." He laughs uncomfortably.
"You are welcome," Lyle tells him. "Now, where do you want to set up her food dish?"
Alle stands, relief evident on his features, and they proceed to figure out the logistics of the cat.
Sooner or later they're going to have to name it, too, but Lyle supposes they'll cross that bridge eventually. No point in worrying about it for the moment.
◊
"Allelujah has a big fucking mouth," Halle says, by way of greeting, one afternoon. Lyle's stretched out on the couch watching television and doing research on the internet. The only stuff on at this time of day are soap operas and old re-runs, but he's discovered that those are probably the best things for background noise.
He's doing research on sociopathy--not anything for school, because he doesn't go to school, himself. Between odd modeling jobs and a part-time gig at the hospital as a security guard, he has enough income that he's never really considered doing anything else.
Halle doesn't like Lyle ignoring him, but he doesn't have a short enough temper to punish Lyle for it. "Hey, cocksucker."
Lyle gives Halle his brightest smile. "Allelujah does have a big mouth, but what did you expect? It's not like you could feasibly hide it from me forever, especially living here."
The dismissive snort says that Halle expected no less. "Had to come out sooner or later."
"Mmm. You going to fuck me, or stand here discussing irrelevant details?"
Halle decides on the former.
◊
Lyle bides his time for two weeks, giving Alle enough time to calm down--insofar as Alle can calm down when constantly expecting punishment from his brother--and Halle enough time to internalize the knowledge that Lyle's not going to go rushing to the cops now that he knows their dirty secret.
So he buys the largest bottle of vodka that the liquor store carries, a few different types of juice for mixers, and proceeds to get Alle stinking drunk.
"How'd you know I liked cocktails?" Alle slurs, right around eleven o'clock.
Halle is sipping a beer, sitting in a chair liberated from a local furniture store, watching the proceedings with amusement.
Lyle decides to tell Alle the plain truth: "Beer didn't seem like your thing."
Alle laughs. "So you bought this much alcohol on a feeling?"
"Exactly." Lyle smiles, happy at seeing Alle so damn wasted that he can barely stand. He's gotten the idea over the month that they've been living here that Alle really enjoys mind-altering substances and would spend most of his time drunk or high if he had a choice in the matter. Of course he doesn't; Halle makes sure Alle does little enough that his body doesn't rebel.
All the sudden, Alle begins laughing again. "Say it out loud, Halle," he says, slurring it all together into one word: Say'taloudHaaaalle.
"No," Halle says, simply, and takes another sip of his beer. He's drinking it slowly, savoring the taste of the microbrew that Lyle bought for him.
"You two could do other things, you know." Lyle feels emboldened by the alcohol; he knows that the sense of acceptance he feels is probably mostly artificial, but whatever.
Halle gives a little half-laugh and shakes his head. "Like go to school? Fuck that. Waste of time is what it is."
Alle hesitates before he adds his two bits: "What would I go to school for? I don't have anything I want to be."
That is a very fucking good point, Lyle thinks, and probably the biggest reason he never went to school himself. He's not like Neil; he doesn't have long-term goals. "Okay, then--get a real job."
"Stripping's a real job," Halle says, with a touch of defensiveness.
But Lyle already has arguments against that marshaled. "Not when he's missing work two nights a week because you're busy fucking him through the mattress."
Alle giggles and then stifles it. "He's got a point."
"So, start working the job you have like it's actually important." Lyle takes a gulp from his beer. "Or get a job that is important."
"Maybe," is all Halle says on the matter.
Lyle reminds himself that progress doesn't come in leaps, usually. More like crawls along. Maybe is a good step for now.
◊
Alle likes to help Lyle when Lyle gets into a baking mood. The whole house fucking loves it, and they always devour everything that comes out.
Lyle knows that Halle fucked Alle right through his shift last night, because he could hear them. Halle fucked Alle against the wall, like it was exactly what he'd intended: a gesture to prove to Lyle that Halle was still in control of Alle, no matter what drunken half-promises were made.
Directness is probably the best way to approach the issue; it'll raise Alle's hackles less if he thinks he knows exactly what Lyle is going after. "Have you been thinking about that job thing?"
The way Alle freezes momentarily say better than words that he had it on his mind last night. "A little."
"It doesn't have to be a serious job, you know. Just something a little more..." Lyle trails off.
"Normal?" Alle smiles, but it's an uncomfortable sort of thing that skates the line between smile and grimace.
Lyle hadn't wanted to be the one to use that word, but it fits. "You're never going to be normal," he says, grinning. "Just like I'm never going to be normal."
"Point." Alle pulls out the cooking sheets and starts spraying them down with cooking spray. "I'll think about it."
That, Lyle thinks, is good enough for him.
◊
Getting to fuck Alle solo is only somewhat rare. It's common enough that Lyle doesn't yearn for it, but uncommon enough that he feels privileged every time it happens. Lyle's fairly sure that Halle does it intentionally, rationing out time alone with Alle like sweet morsels.
But that doesn't mean he's not going to take advantage of it and fuck Alle without rules or games or anything else. Just them, naked and grinding on Lyle's bed, Alle on top and Lyle's hands gripping Alle's ass probably a hair too hard.
"So good like this," Alle breathes, and kisses Lyle, and continues to rock his hips. The movements are starting to get jerky--Alle's getting closer and closer to orgasm--although the lubricant between them makes the way slick.
Lyle shudders underneath Alle's weight, arching up against him, needing, needing. Alle comes first, with a ragged moan and his fingers gripping the blankets; Lyle follows a minute later, at the first touch of Alle's fingers on his cock.
Alle's trained by now; he scoops up the semen and licks it off his fingers and leans down to kiss Lyle until the taste isn't so sharp, so wonderfully bitter, anymore. After that he rolls off of Lyle and lays with his head pillowed on Lyle's chest, his arm draped over Lyle's stomach.
They both sigh. It feels so nice like this, just them, the same way it feels nice to have it just Lyle and Halle as well. He'd never thought that he'd enjoy a three-way relationship but...
"What about going to school?" Alle asks softly, once their breathing has evened out.
Lyle's still far-off and dreamy enough that he doesn't quite make the connection. "What about it?"
"Like, for normalcy."
Oh. "If you'd rather do school than work, that's cool, but you'll have to take a lot of equivalency tests and stuff because you didn't go to formal school." Lyle has no doubt that Alle can pass the tests with flying colors; it's just that he might be put off by the whole ordeal. "It'll take six months or more."
Alle makes a displeased face. "I'll think about it."
Translation: He'll talk to Halle.
But, once again, that's good enough for Lyle; he has no interest in pushing things any faster than Alle is ready to handle.
◊
Lyle and Halle don't normally do much talking when they fuck; it's not like with Alle, who is a chatterbox and will run at the mouth about just about anything. No, Halle keeps his own counsel, a fact which Lyle loves to hate.
They still use the basement for the brutal fucks: the ones that the roommates will find a little too out there if they stumble across them. The couch down there is now blood-spattered, and Lyle is learning that he needs to keep a stock of modern medicine's most wonderful invention: liquid bandage, which knits together flesh and forms a clear but protective barrier.
Halle, for his part, delights at inflicting pain. All kinds of pain.
Including having Lyle bent over one of the arms of the couch, hard nubs digging into his stomach, hand on his back pressing hard enough that his breathing is constricted. It's a wonderful sensation, and the more Lyle gets acquainted with breathplay the more he likes it.
"Enough?" Halle asks, because he wants to hear Lyle beg for it.
Lyle obliges him. "No. Harder. Please." He can still talk, and he wants to have trouble drawing enough breath for that.
The next few thrusts rattle the couch, knocking it against the brick wall behind it, and Lyle tries to groan but all that comes out is a gasping sort of thing. Perfect, he thinks.
And then Halle pulls out most of the way, his fingers trailing down to Lyle's lower back, thumb pressing into Lyle's hole alongside Halle's cock. Lyle moves to provoke, but then Halle leans over him. "I need you to make a fucking promise, or I'm leaving you here like this."
A promise? That sounds dangerous, especially coming from Halle. "Can I hear the promise before I decide?"
Halle hesitates, and Lyle guesses he means to say no, but he doesn't. He gives a little rock of his hips--Lyle moans brokenly at the feeling--and instead says, "Fine. I want you to quit putting these fucking ridiculous ideas in his head."
There was no doubt who his head was, which had to make Lyle's answer, "No."
The thumb inside Lyle's ass digs in deeper, and Halle's hand grips Lyle that way, a more intimate sort of hold than he's used to. "Fine." Halle pulls away all at once, and Lyle hears the sound of his footsteps on the stairs.
Fuck, he should have--
No, Lyle thinks. He shouldn't have.
Because if Halle's starting to give a fuck, it means Lyle's plan is working.
◊
"There's a lot of tests," Alle says, randomly, when he's helping Lyle bake a red velvet cake. Halle loves these especially, probably because of the color, and Lyle's red velvet is to die for anyway. "I mean, to get into school. I've been researching it."
Hellion, the cat, is sitting on the floor following their every movement with the avid kind of interest only animals can exhibit. They've already employed the use of a spray bottle with her; she doesn't jump up on the counters when people are around.
Lyle leans over to give Alle a kiss on the cheek. "I'll help you study."
Alle's smile is beautiful, shy and hopeful all at the same time. "You'd better."
◊
Later, after Lyle's done bending Alle over the kitchen table and fucking him nice and slow, Alle sort of slides to the floor and leans against one of the table legs and has this huge, dopey smile on his face like all his birthdays came at once. "You're right, I think."
Of course Lyle's right. "About what?"
"Halle. The punishment."
And now that Alle's caught on, Lyle guesses that the real punishment will happen. But he doesn't say anything; he just wraps his arms around Alle's boneless form and hugs him tightly.
Lyle spends the next few days half-expecting retribution for helping Alle with moving them in, but it never happens. There are times that make Lyle catch his breath and steel himself for punishment, but punishment never comes and every time Halle just gets this look on his face like this is exactly what he wants.
The third time it happens, Lyle figures it out: Halle's fucking with them. This uncertainty is their just deserts and Halle's relishing every second of it.
"He's not," Alle insists, when Lyle makes the mistake of telling him. "You don't know Halle. He'll fuck with us, yeah, but punishment will come sooner or later. He'll never let us get away with it."
Lyle might not have the breadth of experience with Halle that Alle does, but he's not stupid. This is their punishment, and to think anything else is silly. If Alle wants to walk around on eggshells for the next few weeks until he figures out that Lyle's right he is welcome to do that, but Lyle's not joining him. End of story.
◊
"I know what you're doing," Lyle tells Halle a week or so later. He's not been counting the days, precisely, but he's very cognizant of the fact that it's only been thirteen days since Alle moved both of them in.
Okay, maybe he is counting the days.
Halle just stares at him, like are you going to finish that sentence, or will I have the pleasure of beating the words out of you?
Lyle shrugs. He's still on the mend from last week, but a beating would never go amiss. "With Alle, I mean." Since they both know Lyle's not responding to their punishment anymore.
"You figured that out a week ago." Halle tosses his head and his bangs cease to cover his eyes; that skew-gaze is erotic as fuck, staring into Lyle's soul and making it look easy. "Why bring it up now?"
"'Cause you're going to give him a heart attack at this rate." Alle woke all of them up with a screaming nightmare the other night, probably directly connected to the fact that Halle gave Alle a slow, leisurely fucking that was tender and loving and all the things Halle isn't supposed to exhibit.
Halle's grin sends a shiver down Lyle's spine, that fight-or-flight instinct going straight to his cock. The stance of Halle's feet says he can smell Lyle's arousal; fucking bloodhound. "He'll figure it out. Sooner or later."
"He can't," Lyle says, and earns a sharp slap to the face for his trouble. He laughs, not manic but breathless. "I told him and he refuses to believe it. 'He'll fuck with us, but punishment will come,' he says. He refuses to get it, Halle, don't you fucking see that?"
"And if I do?"
Lyle didn't consider that option, actually. "Then-- I mean-- what's the point--"
"Timing." Halle's smile isn't anything like nice. "You got any other fucking stupid questions you're burning to have answered?"
Yes, Lyle thinks. "No. Go off and do whatever the hell it is you two do every day."
"Wouldn't you like to know," Halle says, and makes a mock-kissy face at Lyle. "Maybe someday we'll tell you."
That is highly unlikely, but he's curious anyway. He knows better than than to try and get an answer out of Halle, but Alle is another matter. Alle is apt to say silly things, after a really good session.
He'll have to go diving for information sometime later this week. For the moment, though, he needs to get to campus; modeling for life drawing class starts in an hour.
◊
Lyle has a hypothesis, but testing out that hypothesis requires that Halle not be anywhere around when Lyle and Alle fuck. It's another four days before that happens; Lyle purposefully crawls into Alle's lap and kisses him slow and easy.
No roughness. No demanding.
Alle kisses back, and Lyle can feel him smiling into the kiss. Hear that low, pleased hum and the tentative touch of those broad hands on Lyle's hair. Like he's asking permission, but Lyle pretends that he doesn't notice and continues on with the kiss instead.
It takes long, long moments of kissing for Alle to either get the message or get the guts to proceed without his actions being okayed, but he does get it and eventually long fingers pet Lyle's hair. Tangle in it and pet and stroke, and Lyle thinks that he could get used to this. It's a bit like fucking Neil.
And isn't that a fucking weird idea--Alle, similar to Neil.
Lyle pushes the idea away and touches Alle's chest through his shirt, light touches that skate the line of teasing and delivery. Once again, it takes long moments before Alle proceeds, but eventually one hand comes down and guides Lyle's hand inside his shirt, pressing it against one pectoral as Alle breaks the kisses and gives Lyle a smile. "You don't have to be slow like this," he whispers.
"What if I want to?" Lyle smiles right back at Alle, and claims his lips once more. The kisses turn slightly more fevered, but not forceful. Not demanding or dominating. Just two guys sharing kiss after kiss.
Alle's the one to break the kisses a second time, leaning his head back against the couch and drawing in deep breaths, letting them out as moans. "Lyle, I--"
"Shh." Lyle pulls Alle's shirt off, getting it stuck on one of his arms but getting it off eventually and throwing it aside. His own shirt, which is not skintight, comes off much easier. Alle's fingers find Lyle's nipples and Lyle leans down to taste the skin of Alle's neck. Sweat and soap--Lyle's soap, actually--and Alle. Lyle whimpers, shivering a little. "Fuck me?" he asks, not daring to lift his head and see the answer on Alle's face.
"You want to ride me?"
It's a good inference based on their position, but it's not exactly what Lyle had in mind. The coffee table is made out of stern stuff, and Lyle's wanted to be fucked on it ever since Halle and Alle moved in. "No. The table, if it's cool." Silly to say that; of course it will be cool. Alle will do anything, as long as his partner desires it.
"Mmm. Bent over it? Laying on top of it? Kneeling on top of it? Did you have a position in mind?"
"Kneeling on top of it." Not only is it the best option height-wise, but it also means that Alle is going to have to just fuck Lyle. Hopefully.
Alle's smile is beautiful. "That sounds good. Strip?"
Still making it a question. Lyle yearns to tell him make me, but that would be going back to the games and away from the hypothesis. Without responding verbally, Lyle stands and strips off his jeans and briefs. He grabs the towel he brought downstairs with him and puts it over the coffee table--more for padding than fear of making a mess--and assumes the position.
Long fingers down the center of Lyle's back make him shiver. He brought lubricant with him, too, and Alle takes advantage of it, warming it with his fingers before pushing two inside of Lyle. It seems like Alle's getting the idea of the experiment, or maybe he's just following Lyle's lead well, because he doesn't demand submission or try to dominate Lyle.
Alle just fucks Lyle. With his fingers, steady but not teasing, and then with his cock, the same way. Steady, hands on Lyle's hips at first, then one moving around to grip Lyle's cock as the thrusts get shallower, less steady, and faster. By the time Lyle comes, Alle's ready to come as well, and does so without being told, leaning over Lyle and groaning and panting.
He licks Lyle's semen off of his fingers, but that's normal. That's not a dominance thing; that's a Dylandy thing, as is the kiss afterward.
Of course that's when Neil walks in. He grimaces. "I thought you two had rooms so you could, you know, not fornicate in public."
Lyle just grins at him, mind still buzzing happily with orgasm and the pleasure of being right. "Don't be jealous, Neil."
Neil grimaces further. "How I could ever be jealous of--"
"We'll go upstairs," Alle says, cutting Neil off, and proceeds to pick Lyle up and carry him all the way to his room. Lyle's room, that is.
They curl up together, and Lyle is so pleased he can't help asking his question: "What is it that you and Halle do all day?"
Alle stiffens; Lyle isn't going to like the answer. Or he thinks that Lyle won't like the answer, at the very least. "You don't want to know."
Lyle's pretty sure he does want to know, actually, but whatever. "If you say so." He's going to have to fuck the hell out of Alle sometime and get an answer, but until then his hypothesis is confirmed: Alle doesn't need the dom/sub games to get off.
It's valuable information, and Lyle can't help wondering if Halle even knows.
◊
Finding the cat is an accident; Lyle's behind the student center thinking fondly of the days when he used to hide out back here and smoke. She comes walking up the alley like she owns the place, a beautiful calico that, going by her weight when he picks her up, is all puffy fur and no muscle.
She mews at him, and starts purring.
I am doomed, Lyle thinks with a resigned sort of sigh. "I'll see if Neil's up for there being a cat in the house," he tells her. "But if he says no, that's it; we're not keeping you."
Her only answer is another mew, and a revving up on the volume of the purring.
He's so very, very doomed.
◊
"Does it have fleas?" is the first question that Neil asks.
Of course it has fleas, Lyle thinks. It's been living out-of-doors in a temperate climate; if it didn't have fleas it would be some kind of miracle. But Lyle's thought of this, and stopped by a pet store on the way home and gotten some flea dip and one of those cheap cardboard carriers. "I can take care of her fleas. Anything else?"
"Who's going to pay for her?"
Lyle hesitates a moment, and in that moment Alle walks down the stairs and into the kitchen. "What's that I-- oh, a cat."
No respectable gambler would bet against the probability that Alle had meant to ask What's that I smell? All at once, a plan comes together in Lyle's mind. "Neil's just wondering who's going to pay for her."
"Oh," Alle says, catching Lyle's drift immediately. "I'm sure Halle and I could afford it, one way or another. Can I see her?"
Just as planned. "She has fleas. I'm about to clear out the kitchen sink and put flea dip on her."
"You'll need a hand with that, won't you? Bathing cats is dangerous."
"Have at it," Neil says, like he has any control left in the situation, and all but stomps out.
Alle stares after him, eyebrows furrowed. He returns his gaze to Lyle once Neil's gone. "What's up with him?"
You, Lyle thinks. "Haven't the foggiest. Help me clear these dishes away?"
By the end of applying the flea dip to the cat--and she was indeed crawling with fleas--Lyle was ready to petition the Catholic church to give sainthood to the individual who invented flea dip. Shampooing a cat would probably have been suicidal, if just applying the dip bit by bit with the washcloth got that reaction.
He's going to owe Alle some serious sex, if not for the scratches on his arms then for dumping this whole thing on him. But for the moment Alle has the cat and is sitting on the couch, cooing at her as she sits in his lap and the flea dip slowly dries.
This is working out to be an even better plan than Lyle thought it would be. "I'm going to go back to the pet store, okay?"
"Oh," Alle says suddenly, as if just realizing that Lyle is there as well. "Um-- well, we could take her with us. And take the car. If that's cool."
By the end of their shopping excursion, the cat has a collar, litter box and litter, a multitude of toys, one of those scratching posts, a king-sized bag of catnip, and a small bed. Lyle's pretty sure the bed was meant for dogs, but it'll suit the cat just fine if the fact that she's in it as soon as they set it down at the foot of Halle and Alle's bed is anything to go by.
Alle squats on the floor next to her and pets her on the head and scratches behind her ears. "Do you suppose she was really a feral cat? She's so... lovable."
Lyle didn't think about it before, but it seems unlikely that any feral would be so attached to humans. But she's skinny as a rail; she'd definitely been hacking it on her own for at least a little while. "If she had owners... I mean, she didn't have a collar and, well, look at how skinny she is."
"Yeah." Alle sits down and smiles broadly. Lyle's fairly sure he's never seen Alle look so abundantly happy and at peace and... everything.
Maybe now, he thinks. "Alle-- can I ask you something?"
The way Alle stiffens says oh fuck better than words can. "Sure. Lyle."
Breath in, breath out. Lyle sits down next to Alle on the floor. "I want to preface this by saying that I have my suspicions already, and I'm only asking because I want to hear this from you. Okay?"
"Okay." Alle unfreezes a little, but his movements are still a little too jerky.
"What is it that you and Halle actually do all day?"
Those skew-eyes squeeze closed, and Alle shakes his head. "I-- I... we do what we did to you. When we first met."
"Stalk people and fuck them?" It's not enough for Halle to fear visits from the cops; it's not enough for Alle to be this wound up about Lyle knowing. "That's not all."
Alle nods. "We kill people, too. Drug dealers. The people we fuck. Others. You know, it's just what we do."
It's exactly what he expected; he really can't have any reaction but acceptance unless he wants to be next up on their hit list. "Thank you for telling me." Lyle hugs him.
"You're welcome?" Alle sounds about ready to cry. "I--thank you for the cat." He laughs uncomfortably.
"You are welcome," Lyle tells him. "Now, where do you want to set up her food dish?"
Alle stands, relief evident on his features, and they proceed to figure out the logistics of the cat.
Sooner or later they're going to have to name it, too, but Lyle supposes they'll cross that bridge eventually. No point in worrying about it for the moment.
◊
"Allelujah has a big fucking mouth," Halle says, by way of greeting, one afternoon. Lyle's stretched out on the couch watching television and doing research on the internet. The only stuff on at this time of day are soap operas and old re-runs, but he's discovered that those are probably the best things for background noise.
He's doing research on sociopathy--not anything for school, because he doesn't go to school, himself. Between odd modeling jobs and a part-time gig at the hospital as a security guard, he has enough income that he's never really considered doing anything else.
Halle doesn't like Lyle ignoring him, but he doesn't have a short enough temper to punish Lyle for it. "Hey, cocksucker."
Lyle gives Halle his brightest smile. "Allelujah does have a big mouth, but what did you expect? It's not like you could feasibly hide it from me forever, especially living here."
The dismissive snort says that Halle expected no less. "Had to come out sooner or later."
"Mmm. You going to fuck me, or stand here discussing irrelevant details?"
Halle decides on the former.
◊
Lyle bides his time for two weeks, giving Alle enough time to calm down--insofar as Alle can calm down when constantly expecting punishment from his brother--and Halle enough time to internalize the knowledge that Lyle's not going to go rushing to the cops now that he knows their dirty secret.
So he buys the largest bottle of vodka that the liquor store carries, a few different types of juice for mixers, and proceeds to get Alle stinking drunk.
"How'd you know I liked cocktails?" Alle slurs, right around eleven o'clock.
Halle is sipping a beer, sitting in a chair liberated from a local furniture store, watching the proceedings with amusement.
Lyle decides to tell Alle the plain truth: "Beer didn't seem like your thing."
Alle laughs. "So you bought this much alcohol on a feeling?"
"Exactly." Lyle smiles, happy at seeing Alle so damn wasted that he can barely stand. He's gotten the idea over the month that they've been living here that Alle really enjoys mind-altering substances and would spend most of his time drunk or high if he had a choice in the matter. Of course he doesn't; Halle makes sure Alle does little enough that his body doesn't rebel.
All the sudden, Alle begins laughing again. "Say it out loud, Halle," he says, slurring it all together into one word: Say'taloudHaaaalle.
"No," Halle says, simply, and takes another sip of his beer. He's drinking it slowly, savoring the taste of the microbrew that Lyle bought for him.
"You two could do other things, you know." Lyle feels emboldened by the alcohol; he knows that the sense of acceptance he feels is probably mostly artificial, but whatever.
Halle gives a little half-laugh and shakes his head. "Like go to school? Fuck that. Waste of time is what it is."
Alle hesitates before he adds his two bits: "What would I go to school for? I don't have anything I want to be."
That is a very fucking good point, Lyle thinks, and probably the biggest reason he never went to school himself. He's not like Neil; he doesn't have long-term goals. "Okay, then--get a real job."
"Stripping's a real job," Halle says, with a touch of defensiveness.
But Lyle already has arguments against that marshaled. "Not when he's missing work two nights a week because you're busy fucking him through the mattress."
Alle giggles and then stifles it. "He's got a point."
"So, start working the job you have like it's actually important." Lyle takes a gulp from his beer. "Or get a job that is important."
"Maybe," is all Halle says on the matter.
Lyle reminds himself that progress doesn't come in leaps, usually. More like crawls along. Maybe is a good step for now.
◊
Alle likes to help Lyle when Lyle gets into a baking mood. The whole house fucking loves it, and they always devour everything that comes out.
Lyle knows that Halle fucked Alle right through his shift last night, because he could hear them. Halle fucked Alle against the wall, like it was exactly what he'd intended: a gesture to prove to Lyle that Halle was still in control of Alle, no matter what drunken half-promises were made.
Directness is probably the best way to approach the issue; it'll raise Alle's hackles less if he thinks he knows exactly what Lyle is going after. "Have you been thinking about that job thing?"
The way Alle freezes momentarily say better than words that he had it on his mind last night. "A little."
"It doesn't have to be a serious job, you know. Just something a little more..." Lyle trails off.
"Normal?" Alle smiles, but it's an uncomfortable sort of thing that skates the line between smile and grimace.
Lyle hadn't wanted to be the one to use that word, but it fits. "You're never going to be normal," he says, grinning. "Just like I'm never going to be normal."
"Point." Alle pulls out the cooking sheets and starts spraying them down with cooking spray. "I'll think about it."
That, Lyle thinks, is good enough for him.
◊
Getting to fuck Alle solo is only somewhat rare. It's common enough that Lyle doesn't yearn for it, but uncommon enough that he feels privileged every time it happens. Lyle's fairly sure that Halle does it intentionally, rationing out time alone with Alle like sweet morsels.
But that doesn't mean he's not going to take advantage of it and fuck Alle without rules or games or anything else. Just them, naked and grinding on Lyle's bed, Alle on top and Lyle's hands gripping Alle's ass probably a hair too hard.
"So good like this," Alle breathes, and kisses Lyle, and continues to rock his hips. The movements are starting to get jerky--Alle's getting closer and closer to orgasm--although the lubricant between them makes the way slick.
Lyle shudders underneath Alle's weight, arching up against him, needing, needing. Alle comes first, with a ragged moan and his fingers gripping the blankets; Lyle follows a minute later, at the first touch of Alle's fingers on his cock.
Alle's trained by now; he scoops up the semen and licks it off his fingers and leans down to kiss Lyle until the taste isn't so sharp, so wonderfully bitter, anymore. After that he rolls off of Lyle and lays with his head pillowed on Lyle's chest, his arm draped over Lyle's stomach.
They both sigh. It feels so nice like this, just them, the same way it feels nice to have it just Lyle and Halle as well. He'd never thought that he'd enjoy a three-way relationship but...
"What about going to school?" Alle asks softly, once their breathing has evened out.
Lyle's still far-off and dreamy enough that he doesn't quite make the connection. "What about it?"
"Like, for normalcy."
Oh. "If you'd rather do school than work, that's cool, but you'll have to take a lot of equivalency tests and stuff because you didn't go to formal school." Lyle has no doubt that Alle can pass the tests with flying colors; it's just that he might be put off by the whole ordeal. "It'll take six months or more."
Alle makes a displeased face. "I'll think about it."
Translation: He'll talk to Halle.
But, once again, that's good enough for Lyle; he has no interest in pushing things any faster than Alle is ready to handle.
◊
Lyle and Halle don't normally do much talking when they fuck; it's not like with Alle, who is a chatterbox and will run at the mouth about just about anything. No, Halle keeps his own counsel, a fact which Lyle loves to hate.
They still use the basement for the brutal fucks: the ones that the roommates will find a little too out there if they stumble across them. The couch down there is now blood-spattered, and Lyle is learning that he needs to keep a stock of modern medicine's most wonderful invention: liquid bandage, which knits together flesh and forms a clear but protective barrier.
Halle, for his part, delights at inflicting pain. All kinds of pain.
Including having Lyle bent over one of the arms of the couch, hard nubs digging into his stomach, hand on his back pressing hard enough that his breathing is constricted. It's a wonderful sensation, and the more Lyle gets acquainted with breathplay the more he likes it.
"Enough?" Halle asks, because he wants to hear Lyle beg for it.
Lyle obliges him. "No. Harder. Please." He can still talk, and he wants to have trouble drawing enough breath for that.
The next few thrusts rattle the couch, knocking it against the brick wall behind it, and Lyle tries to groan but all that comes out is a gasping sort of thing. Perfect, he thinks.
And then Halle pulls out most of the way, his fingers trailing down to Lyle's lower back, thumb pressing into Lyle's hole alongside Halle's cock. Lyle moves to provoke, but then Halle leans over him. "I need you to make a fucking promise, or I'm leaving you here like this."
A promise? That sounds dangerous, especially coming from Halle. "Can I hear the promise before I decide?"
Halle hesitates, and Lyle guesses he means to say no, but he doesn't. He gives a little rock of his hips--Lyle moans brokenly at the feeling--and instead says, "Fine. I want you to quit putting these fucking ridiculous ideas in his head."
There was no doubt who his head was, which had to make Lyle's answer, "No."
The thumb inside Lyle's ass digs in deeper, and Halle's hand grips Lyle that way, a more intimate sort of hold than he's used to. "Fine." Halle pulls away all at once, and Lyle hears the sound of his footsteps on the stairs.
Fuck, he should have--
No, Lyle thinks. He shouldn't have.
Because if Halle's starting to give a fuck, it means Lyle's plan is working.
◊
"There's a lot of tests," Alle says, randomly, when he's helping Lyle bake a red velvet cake. Halle loves these especially, probably because of the color, and Lyle's red velvet is to die for anyway. "I mean, to get into school. I've been researching it."
Hellion, the cat, is sitting on the floor following their every movement with the avid kind of interest only animals can exhibit. They've already employed the use of a spray bottle with her; she doesn't jump up on the counters when people are around.
Lyle leans over to give Alle a kiss on the cheek. "I'll help you study."
Alle's smile is beautiful, shy and hopeful all at the same time. "You'd better."
◊
Later, after Lyle's done bending Alle over the kitchen table and fucking him nice and slow, Alle sort of slides to the floor and leans against one of the table legs and has this huge, dopey smile on his face like all his birthdays came at once. "You're right, I think."
Of course Lyle's right. "About what?"
"Halle. The punishment."
And now that Alle's caught on, Lyle guesses that the real punishment will happen. But he doesn't say anything; he just wraps his arms around Alle's boneless form and hugs him tightly.