Page 68 of Her Wicked Knights
Tripp huffs a laugh and throws his bag down, pulling out his costume.
I haven't dressed up for Halloween in seven years; wearing a costume feels ridiculous, which is why I went for the path of least resistance. We all had to run our costume ideas by Whit, since they needed to be able to blend in with actual workers, who apparently don't use the locker room except for before the haunts start and after they end. They're expected to be 'on'for the three-hour duration of terror night, which works to our advantage since there's not a bunch of random people milling about to see us.
Tripp's costume is a simple choice; he pulls out the hockey mask and smirks.
He's tall, but not nearly bulky enough to make a convincing Jason. But when he slips out of his V neck and stands for a minute, I realize he brought more. I also realize Rev's eyes are glued to him, appreciatively.
"I might have a mask kink." Rev announces, nipping at his lower lip. "Put it on real quick?"
Tripp looks up at him in surprise, abandoning the shirt he was getting ready to start slipping on.
"What?" His eyes cut to me before they turn back to Rev.
I should probably act uninterested in whatever the fuck is going on between them, but something about the headiness in Rev's voice has me intrigued. He's definitely had eyes for Tripp before, and maybe I'd have clocked it as suspicious if he didn't have eyes for everybody. But something has shifted between them, and suddenly it seems as though Tripp is returning his interest.
"Let's see it." I shrug, watching as Tripp's eyes widen to panic.
"I..."
"Please?" Rev pouts, and Tripp laughs, rolls his eyes, and relents.
He puts the mask in place and stares. When he speaks, his voice is muffled behind the plastic.
"Happy?"
"Fuck yes." Rev laughs. "Mask kink affirmed. Hot."
"I might have a mask kink, too." I say.
Tripp's head whips toward me, the dark edges of his hair falling over the mask and curling against it.
"Maybe you should do something about it, Rev."
"Should I?" Rev muses, his eyes flicking from me to Tripp, who I can only imagine is pale beneath that mask, afraid of actually doing something. It's not really any of my business, but it's maddening watching him stay celibate because he thinks so much as kissing someone other than Marley would be a betrayal.
"You should definitely do something about that." I use the tip of the prop knife to indicate the bulge in Tripp's boxers, which is sizeable.
I've seen Rev's cock more times than I've ever cared to, playing sports together for years, but I never could have guessed that Tripp was working withthat.
"Can I?" Rev asks, stepping toward Tripp slowly at first.
And then he moves quickly, confidently, closing the distance between the two of them so that Tripp seems to shrink against the wall as Rev eclipses him.
And yet, I notice he doesn't make a move. He asked for permission, and he waits for it, his hand out, fingers twitching as they wait to skim against Tripp's erection.
"Touch him." I say, surprised to find that the words or the thought of them are doing something to me too.
I'm not attracted to men. I'm not attracted to them. But I am attracted to the chemistry between them, to the palpable tension, the longing, the desire that they're both too fucking scared to act on.
"Tripp?"
Rev's voice is low and husky, and clearly not meant for me when he asks, "Do you want me to?"
"He wants you. You want him." It's obvious, so the fact that they're dancing around one another is ridiculous.
But Tripp doesn't speak; he just holds Rev's gaze, so I decide to take matters into my own hands... literally.
"If you want something..." I tell them, drawing up behind Rev and running my touch down his arm, "Then all you have to do is reach out and take it."
