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“Leave her be, brother,” Cash chuckles. I’d know his lighter tone with my eyes closed, which they are. “It’s been quite the day.” Chels shifts to curl up on my stomach, taking a hit of the hookah when I pass the reed to her.
“Don’t fucking touch me you piece of shit,” Tweed snarls, preceded by the tearing of his leather jacket.
“Can’t we all just get along?” I sigh, dancing my fingers through the air. Tweed ignores me, continuing to growl at his brother.
“Isn’t it about time you checked in with your Queen?” Interest piqued, I roll my head aside to watch the exchange. Tweed shoves a hand into Cash’s chest, shoving him away when he tries to take the firewood.
“I’m not bound as tightly to mine as you are to yours. You made your choice,” Cash chuckles again, giving no hint of the leg sweep he whacks out on his twin. Tweed pre-empts it though, jumping high to land back on his feet and grab Cash by the scruff of his pinstripe vest.
“We both know that for the lie it is,” Tweed spits, swinging his fist back. Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“You know what - I’m sick to death of hearing about these queens you both serve. From now on, until we leave this wood, you both serve me. I’m your queen, now dance for me.” I click my fingers, believing a pair of stripper poles has sprouted from the nearest and tallest mushroom. Cash’s chest visibly puffs out and he cracks his fingers. This is his element, where he’s comfortable. Tweed, however, glares at me with a thousand emerald shards splintering in his gaze.
“There’s no way a mushroom’s head would support anyone,” he grits out. I burst into laughter, so many innuendos about his head supporting me but I keep them to myself. Teasing someone who falls so easily into my traps isn’t half as fun.
“Sure, it will – that particular mushroom is made of steel.” At my words, chrome begins to grow up the stalk, coating the stem and flesh high above in a shiny, steel coating. Cash kicks off his shoes and leaps, grabbing the right pole and swings around it freely to prove a point. I spare Tweed a half-satisfied smile, daring him to provide me with any other reasons he’s not shaking his ass on that pole for me tonight. Some call it spoilt, I call it getting whatever the fuck I want and screw the labels.
“What’s it going to be, T-Dick? Are you going to dance for me, or let Cash take the spotlight?” Chels slinks off my stomach, stretching her back before hopping down from the mushroom.
“I’m going to take myself for a stroll, let you get…this…out of your system,” she grins. “Care to join me?” I look around, confused for a millisecond until Stan glides out from his hiding spot and lands on my shoulder. Jumping, his furry wings spread far enough to glide onto Chels’ back as she begins to float away.
On her way past the firewood, her fluffy tail flicks out and zaps a spark into the pile. A fire roars to life, her body fading into just a smile that twirls beyond the flames and floats away. Well, that’s new. Tweed has yet to move, a war happening between his eyebrows. I sigh, sitting upright and pat the spot beside me on the mushroom.
“Come on, I won’t bite – unless you do,” I wink. For a moment, I think he’s frozen in indecision, but he suddenly moves and appears at my side in a flash. “Relax for once. You might enjoy it,” I pass him the hookah. He pushes it away.
“My metabolism-”
“Is taking a break,” I urge, believing it into existence. He eyes me wearily but doesn’t fight this time as I push the reed between his lips. Taking a long, intense suck, his eyes dilate and I smile. “Now doesn’t that feel better?” Taking turns, Tweed and I toke on the hookah, filled with a particularly strong tobacco that tastes suspiciously like weed, until our heads are slumped together and Cash announces he’s warmed up.
Without the assistance of my apparent superpower, a tune leaks through the wood of stalks. Soft at first, a trickled sound from a collection of mome raths growing from the ground. Tufty grass for hair, their eyes bulge wide on slender, vertical bodies. Much like a worm, reaching for the morning sun, offering themselves up to the early bird. Wiggling from side to side, small rounded mouths open wider to increase the volume of a pleasant tone with some decent bass. The baritones sweep in on wings of purple cabbage, a flock of lettuce butterflies aiding Cash’s slow and rehearsed movements.
He commands my attention. Starting on the ground, Cash’s large hand wraps around the pole. His muscles flex in the moonlight, preparing to sweep his legs wide and slowly spin in lazy circles. Through his purple striped vest, the deep ridges of his abdomen flex and I push the hookah into Tweed’s hands. For this, I want to be mostly lucid.
Coming to a stop, his hand drips to his waistband, those slinky hips rolling in time with the music. Drool puddles in my mouth, salivating at the glimpse of an engraved V leading into his jeans. Then he’s airborne. Pulling his entire weight up with one arm, Cash lifts his legs in one, smooth movement, landing a perfect upside-down roly poly to lock his ankles on the pole.
Stomach splayed against the metal, he uses his hands to peel off his vest and drop it beneath his hand. The muscles flexing between his shoulder blades cause my mouth to go dry, and when Tweed shoves the hookah in my mouth to distant me, I almost choke. Popping the button of his jeans before righting himself, Cash twists upright and shoots me a sly grin. His groin grinds against the pole in mid-air, held in place by just one hand and his ankles.
“I don’t like this,” Tweed grumbles to himself. I spare him a quick glance, as much as it is a struggle to take my eyes off Cash. Tweed’s limbs are languid from the hookah, his shoulder slumped into mine and face downcast. I’m not sure which part of this he is referring to not liking – the one-man show people would spend thousands for or the lack of feeling to the stick up his ass. Gripping his chin, I turn his face upwards, a breath away from mine.
“Look at me instead.” Cash has climbed the pole now, making me curse under my breath that I missed watching his biceps pulse. Veins travel the length of his arms, from shoulder to wrist on his inkless side. A thin layer of sweat prickles his skin, glistening like a thousand diamonds activated by the moon. Working his legs as if walking on air, Cash works me into a frenzy with his displays of grace and strength. My thighs clench, my heart hammering. I need him, on me, under me, everywhere. Sliding down the length of the pole, those green eyes settle on mine, unwavering as he begins to slide down his jeans.
“Did I ever tell you…” Tweed slurs, sinking his weight into me more and more with each toke. Cash’s jeans make it to his knees before he tears them clean off, standing in nothing but a skimpy pair of black boxers and moonlight.
“Tell me what,” I whisper back angrily, not breaking my eye contact with Cash. I won’t miss a single movement, won’t waste a second to salivate over his glorious form.
“How fucking beautiful you are.” Trance broken. I swing my head to Tweed’s. He jerks forward, catching my lips in a forbidden kiss. For whatever reason, the logical part of his brain refused to give it to me. But now, his consciousness is locked up tight with a do not disturb sign on the door. He wants me on a primeval, base level.
With Cash’s protests swirling in the background, I drop back onto the mushroom, taking Tweed with me. His cold hand slides across my waist just beneath the vest, his hot lips at contrast with everything else about him. He pushes his tongue into my mouth, using a grip on my chin to open me up to him. And I do, without hesitation. This is what I’ve wanted since the moment I watched him stubbornly break his face on the Perspex mirror in my cell.
To see his ego snap. To witness his soul submit to me.
Another form joins us, too large for Chels to have returned and question my life choices. Additional hands slip around my front and into my cargos, ice cold and causing me to gasp into Tweed’s mouth. He pulls back, a hint of awareness returning at Cash’s presence. Those icy fingers sink lower, finding the hem of my thong and tearing it in one smooth move. Not necessary, but the show of power was certainly appreciated by my lady parts.
Through half-lidded eyes, I see Tweed glaring over my shoulder, preparing to move away from me. I grip his leather jacket, forcing him to stay in place.
“I didn’t peg you for one to run in the face of a challenge, Tweed.” Cash chuckles, goading his twin. “But I’m sure pegging is an option, if that’s more your speed.”
“Stay,” I softly urge, keeping his eyes in my direction. He looks through me, lacking the raw emotion I just felt radiating from his chest and into mine. “Crack for me. Break for me. Return the boy that always had a smile at the ready.”
