Page 69 of Her Wicked Knights
Tripp groans when I shove Rev's hand against his cock, and I hear Rev's sharp breath, the desperation, the need to have what's so close. I keep my hand over his, helping him grind his palm against our best friend's cock.
"Fuck..." Tripp groans again, and to my surprise, there's no fear or resignation in his voice. Just unchecked pleasure from something as simple as a little over the clothes touching.
When I pull my hand away, Rev's stays. It stays, moving slowly over Tripp's crotch as I step back to take them in.
To be honest, I don't know if I've got a mask kink or if this is just hot all on its own, but I know I want it to go further. This is the most intense arousal I've felt in ages, since before I quit breaking into Marley's house to watch her sleep.
"You like me touching you like this?" Rev asks. "Imagine how good it would be without clothes... with my mouth wrapped around your cock."
A strangled sound leaves Tripp's throat as he tilts his head back, soaking in the pleasure.
"Imagine how good it will feel when I swallow you so deep that you control my air. Imagine how amazing it will be when I get to taste you on my tongue."
Fuck.
I definitely didn't expect this, and now I'm hard with nothing to do about it. I could whip it out here and take care of myself, I suppose, but I have a feeling that would spook Tripp into stopping, and that's the last thing I want.
Unfortunately, it's what happens, because the door opens and Tripp shoves Rev away like he's burned him, clearing his throat as we turn to take in Whit.
He's already dressed in the black robe similar to what he's already been wearing to our culty little sessions. The sleeves on this one are ragged, just like the bottom of it. It kind of fits like a dress, and I decide that his costume doesn't do anything for me at all.
"The midnight hour is almost upon us." Whit says, completely oblivious to the fact that he walked in on the middle of something loaded.
"It's ten forty-five." Rev says coolly.
"Right. Which means, they're going to be in line for the last house now. Mark texted that they were headed there just before I came in here."
He picks up the Michael Meyers mask Rev left atop his bag, tossing it through the air at Rev, who catches it easily. "It's show time, boys."
I went to one of these haunted houses last year. I know how they work, with curtains and facades, smoke and mirrors that make it easy for the workers to move around the house unseen, so they can show up around any corner and crevice to try and terrify you. That's the whole point of the place.
This house was set up to connect to the existing theater, which shows presentations three times a day. It's a walking show, so there's nowhere to sit as Whit and I go to the stage to wait for the final act of Audrey's reign of terror.
Tripp and Rev go ahead, to earlier in the maze, where they'll wait and watch and play their parts, doubling back to us before Marley makes it to the final room. I wonder vaguely if they're going to take advantage of the chaos of the haunted house to continue what they started earlier; I’m surprised to find I'm jealous at the thought.
Fuck, watching them touch each other surrounded by fog and strobe lights and with the heavy music in the air. It would be hot, like watching a performance just for me. Distantly, I wonder if I should be concerned that I'm fantasizing about watching two men have sex, but I decide I don't care. I like what I like; namely, my friends.
Whit runs his mouth every minute, and more people join us, drawing out of the shadows, dressed identically to him. At first I think we're surrounded by mirrors that are just throwing his reflection back at me, but then I realize they're actual people.
"Who the fuck are they?" I demand.
"Disciples." Whit shrugs. "Don't worry about them. They're here to strengthen the connection, to deepen the bond to the hallowed ground we're standing upon, to pull her magic to the surface."
I run my eyes over the crowd of strangers, suddenly uncomfortable by the fact that I'm about to commit murder infront of them. I don't know who's hiding beneath those masks; for all I know, it could be Marley and Audrey.
"Hallowed ground?"
"This park." Whit nods. "It was built on our ashes."
When I only stare at him through the holes of the neon mask, he chuckles. "Our first lives. That memory we saw of the fire. This is where Margeaux was murdered... where all our fates were sealed."
"Margeaux?"
"Well, she wasn't Marley back then." Whit laughs again. "And you weren't Colton. Of course, history tried to erase her... to bury everything in shame so they could pretend there was never a witch hunt here. They claim the fire that ravaged our town was started by a boiler explosion in the pottery factory. There's a tribute set up, actually, in the house of oddities near the back of the park. Every man and woman who burned that night is listed... all except hers."
I didn't realize there was a list of names there; the house of oddities has never intrigued me, so I've never stopped in. But now, I'm curious.
"Historians have a way of selectively recording the things they want. But if you know where to look for the right things, the whole past of the world can open to you. And by knowing the past, you can know the future, since history also has a way of repeating itself."
