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Jess dropped her towel as she walked over to the bed, her naked silhouette framed by the glass doors in front of her. The doors opened onto the back deck, beyond which Lucas and Vincent were tending to dinner on the grill. Smoke drifted through the yard, carrying with it the savory scent of meat and vegetables.
Jess unzipped her suitcase, rifling through her clothes until Manson intervened. I wrapped my arms around her, caressing her soft skin as I reminded her, “You don’t have to care about a thing, remember? We pick what you wear...or don’t wear.”
Manson selected a thong and a short blue sundress, laying them out on the bed for her.
“No bra?” Jess said, and he chuckled.
“Why the hell would we want you wearing a bra?” He grasped her breasts as I held her from behind, squeezing them tenderly. “Frankly, the second we get back inside, I’m taking these clothes right back off you.”
There was a knock on the glass doors. Vincent stood outside, holding a large pair of tongs as he looked at Jess and made a “chef’s kiss” motion with his hand. She giggled as she slipped on her dress, and his expression changed to one of devastated sadness.
He’d always loved to tease, and how easily he got Jess to laugh had quickly become one of my favorite things. We’d kept to ourselves for so long. I’d never gotten to experience watching the others fall for someone in their own way.
Vincent opened the door, poking his head inside. “Aw, don’t cover up! What’s wrong — afraid the trees will see your titties?”
Jess sauntered over to him, swatting his hands away when he clicked the tongs at her. “Sorry, sorry, they got confused.” He chuckled. “You’re looking like such a snack, they thought they were supposed to pick you up.”
She shrieked as he wrapped an arm around her and lifted her straight up off her feet. He carried her across the deck, her arms and legs swiftly wrapping around him. The evening air was cool, the smell of smoke and cooking meat making my mouth water. The Peters family owned the acre of land the cabin sat on, so we had the entire space to ourselves with no concern about nearby campers.
I glanced over at Manson as he leaned against the doorframe. He’d retrieved his whiskey from the bedside table and was sipping it slowly. He looked calm, albeit a little tired. But Manson didn’t ever relax. He was like Lucas that way; there was a part of his brain he was incapable of shutting off.
Especially after seeing his father again, he’d been losing himself in his head more often lately. He’d fallen out of the habit of making regular appointments with his therapist, but I’d overhead him scheduling a session before we left for the weekend.
The burden of feeling responsible for all of us was heavy on his shoulders. We didn’t have a leader per se; it was more like Manson was the head of the household, guiding decisions rather than always having the final say. He’d never tell us he was struggling unless we pressured him to. He kept those thoughts to himself, clinging to the act of being the calm, cool, collected one.
It was a good act; I’d admit that. But itwasan act.
“Hey.” He glanced over at me. “Are you doing okay?”
He nodded right away, and my eyes narrowed. “I’m good,” he said, but when I didn’t look away, his jaw tightened up. “Just have a lot on my mind.”
Leaning against his side, I nudged my shoulder into him, jostling him until I got him to laugh. “I get it. But your asshole old man isn’t out here, dude. Just us.”
“Yeah.” He took another slow sip, then offered me some. I didn’t like whiskey; I was more partial to beer. But I took a sip anyway, enjoying the burn. “I’m not going to want to go back, J. I can tell already I...” He sighed, watching Vincent carry Jess across the yard so she wouldn’t hurt her bare feet. “We need to get out of that fucking town.”
“We will,” I assured him. “We could list the house for sale as it is, you know.”
“We need to finish that last room. The downstairs bedroom.” He scrubbed his hand over his face, his next sip far heavier than the last. “When we get back, we need to clear it out.”
The downstairs bedroom — his childhood bedroom — had stayed locked since we moved in. Even glimpsing the interior of that dirty old room affected him. It was a haunted space, a grave in our own house. Too many bad memories inhabited it.
“Sounds like a plan,” I said. I stepped around him and snatched the drink out of his hands, holding it up like a carrot in front of a horse as I walked backward across the deck. “Come on, come on. Come and get the nice spicy whiskey. Don’t brood.”
He pressed his lips into a thin line, a look that made my stomach knot up with enjoyable apprehension as he strode toward me across the deck. He snatched his drink back and slung his arm around my shoulders, grinning as he said in a low voice, “Careful with your teasing, or Jess and Lucas won’t be the only ones I put on their knees this weekend.”
As if that was a deterrent. Frankly, this was exactly the right weekend for misbehavior. I generally knew how far I could push Vincent, but Manson was trickier to read. The calculated risk made it fun.
Vincent and I were closest, intimately, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t interested in Manson and Lucas too. I’d been deeply in denial when I met them, intimidated by their intensity, terrified of making the wrong move and destroying the best friendships I’d ever had. I’d also been unbearably, oppressively horny. The moment I’d decided to stop stifling my sexuality, all the desire inside me exploded and I couldn’t get enough. It had been a careful balance of wanting to fuck everyone and trying not to lose myself in rabid experimentation.
Having Jess around and watching her thrive in submission did, admittedly, make me crave it myself. I liked to switch; I found fulfillment whether I was topping or bottoming. But sometimes, I really fucking needed to be held down and overtaken.
Manson let go of me, swinging his legs over the deck railing so he could sit atop. Lucas was at the grill, his phone hooked up to a nearby Bluetooth speaker, playing Black Sabbath. Vincent set Jess back on her feet next to the grill, where the dirt was soft and powdery so she wasn’t likely to hurt her feet.
“More fresh meat for me,” Lucas said, grabbing her and squeezing her ass. “How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve been kidnapped and ravaged by four wicked villains,” she said. “In other words, I feel fantastic.”
Most people wouldn’t have considered the slight curve of Lucas’s lips to be a smile, but it was obvious to those of us who knew him well. He held her close for a while, showing off what we’d soon be eating for dinner. Thick steaks, grilled asparagus, and Vincent had potatoes boiling on the stove inside. I was ready to pig out and spend the rest of the evening being lazy.
