Page 53 of Our Elliana

What’s even more alarming is how I’m becoming attached to living in this house, as well. Probably because Elle’s allowed me nothing but freedom in the kitchen, I feel more at home than I would’ve thought possible. I like that so far she doesn’t breach the private space of my room, and that she doesn’t make it her mission to boss all of us around.

I like the kid. I respect what Noah does and who he is.

And Jackson. That motherfucker. I no longer know what my opinion of him is. At first all he did was trample on my nerves. Daily. But lately his constant guitar picking, humming, and playing haven’t been as annoying.

And there’s no way in fuck that I could’ve managed the catio and koi pond surprise for Elle without his help. He has legit woodworking skills, and while I’d expected him to be all ADHD when it came to focusing on tasks, that’s not how the situation developed. He took the objective I gave him and ran with it until it was done. Complete to an excellent standard to boot.

Color me impressed.

Yet I’m not moronic enough to assume that us playing house like this will ever amount to the real thing. I mean, I’m basically a glorified gigolo with chef training. I know that. There’s no getting away from it. Even if sometimes Elle is so accommodating that it doesn’t feel like it.

She’s not the type to handcuff us to a cellar wall somewhere and ram strap-on dildos into our asses. I wouldn’t have agreed to such extreme treatment, even as desperate as I am. But what I’ve discovered is that I enjoy her company even when our clothes are on.

Which makes it official if there was ever any doubt. I’m the king of goddamn idiots.

Noah’s out of the house early with his firefighting gig, and none of us see him until dinner that night. Even then, he broadcasts his discomfort like a timer dinging when Elle demands he sit at the table with us. Yet his response to her minor interrogation isn’t something I would’ve predicted.

“I don’t think I should tell you,” Noah mutters, and I wonder if I misunderstood him. This kid is compliant to his core. Usually.

“Why not?” Elle asks.

“Because you might oust me from your house once you know.”

Wow. Jackson and I share a fleeting look. He seems as astonished by this as I do.

Elle gently lays a hand on Noah’s arm. “What if I promise I won’t?”

“But you don’t know how... detrimental this could be.”

“Detrimental to you?”

“To me, to you, all of us,” the kid exclaims, every feature on his face shriveling like a raisin. He seems out-and-out distraught. Also, he has his blush turned up to full power.

“Honeybunny, we live together, eat together, hang out together, and have gotten off in front of each other more than once. Don’t you think you can trust us a little?”

“But you don’t know... I didn’t know this about myself until last night.” The redness of his complexion deepens, and Jackson shifts in his seat as he taps his damn guitar pick on the tabletop. Of course, no one seems to notice this but me.

Elle clutches onto the kid’s hand with each of hers. “Didn’t know what?”

Noah hems and haws until finally, he blurts out, “I got turned on when we were all there in your bed.”

“Me, too,” Elle says, her mouth and eyes brightening with a smile. “Just being around you guys keeps me soaked most of the time.”

Well, there’s a fresh insight into her psyche. One that has my cock hardening like the granite of a countertop. Now I’m the guy tempted to shift in my seat. I don’t on principle, though. Instead, I offer my own take on the situation.

“Think we were all turned on last night. Can’t be in the middle of a live porno and not get horny.”

“No. That’s not what I... Elle, you always... I mean, I always react to seeing you uncovered,” the kid confesses as if he had a different response than any other man in the room. “But Tristan, when you uh... got off on Elle, I...” he stammers, stumbling over his explanation, and I frown at him.

“You found it arousing to observe Tristan splattering his come on her,” Jackson surmises. “Did you race out of there to go jack yourself off?”

Burying his head in his hands, Noah groans in miserable affirmation. “Yeah.”

“Dude, that’s no big deal,” Jackson continues. “This doesn’t have to be a crisis.”

“But what if it means I’m gay?” Noah mumbles out so faintly I have to lean in to understand him.

“It may not mean that,” adds Elliana.

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