I snort, glaring back at her grave as I walk the circumference of the grounds. She made this happen. Made me question myself and wander these entangled thoughts. Had she not have been part of my life, I would have been just one. I would have let the monster come, let it ravage and feed on victim after victim, not caring for the eventuality of death nor pain. Instead, she’s halted my escalation with her death. Tamed me. Provided multiple sides to challenge themselves and cause confliction.
The thought makes a laugh come. She fucks me over in death more than she ever could in life. She’d be amused by that. Find it funny. She’d giggle, and then she’d run my beach. She’d run for her life knowing only too well the outcomes of finding a route inwards.
Perhaps this is my penitence for her death, her revenge. I’ve become my own test case. My own evaluation of merit, or lack thereof. Now, rather than her, my magician fucks with itself, amusing itself with my continued turmoil and split personalities.
Bitch.
The gates come into view, my car waiting for me behind them. I head towards it slowly, all the time wondering where my little dove is now. Sleeping probably. Just as average humans do at this time of night. I sent her back to average. Sent her back to deal with the knowledge she now knows, hoping for her acceptance of those facts. I should go to her, hold her. Show her she is worth more than this graveyard I’m in. I’ll come back again here next time with her right by my side, if she still wants to come. She can make her decisions here, bring her hope and dreams with her and judge me over Eloise’s body. She deserves that. Needs it. There is no forward without backwards. No progression without acceptance of the past. There never is. My psychologist knows that, irrespective of my magician’s denial of facts and restriction of truths. This love she chooses to boundon with comes with repercussions. It comes with eventualities and consequences, ones that mean a life she knew nothing of before me. Fuck, it could even mean an initiation I’d never considered as beneficial to my life in any way. Love’s curse is, I suppose, one that requires absolute honesty. All truths bared.
Chapter 16
Alana
C oleand I got kicked out eventually. Apparently it was four o’clock in the morning and they needed to clean. I hadn’t even noticed the time, nor had I cared in the slightest. I’d been too fascinated with hearing everything there was to know about the man I love from someone who wasn’t like Priest. Into ‘it’, I mean.
That’s what Cole had called it all night, as if that was the only explanation of needs and wants he could manage. I’d giggled and laughed a lot, my feet curled up onto the couch, perhaps sensing parts of Blaine in his character and enjoying their lilt on me. It made me think of what Blaine could be, imagine the way he might have been had he not have become the monster he talks of.
The cab slowly rounds the corner as I keep stroking his head, wondering why he’s even still in the car with me. He’s taking me home apparently. Being a gentleman because Blaine would kick his ass if he didn’t. He’s not. He fell asleep, or passed out two minutes after we got in here. I don’t care. For once I’m happy to dwell in this nothingness as he leans on my lap, his hair running through my fingers. I can hardly feel him in all honesty. I’m too busy imagining Blaine’s hair in my hands, Blaine’s weight on me. He’s all I’ve thought about most of the night, some resonance of him coming through Cole’s lips as he talked of growing up, of living together and being brothers. It was all so far removed from the Blaine I know. Cole made him seem happy and contented, a boy who loved freely and helped with every instinct he had. No games, no mind fucking, only shenanigans and fun. Years, it seems, of running neighbourhood gardens and smiling, occasionally getting caught. Two cheeky youngsters having the time of their lives, enjoying it. Where’s he gone? Where’s that man run away to?
I sigh out and watch the federal hall’s columns creep past beside us, part of me trying desperately to piece him together in my mind as I remember his words of killing. That’s not the boy Cole talked of all night. That teenager wouldn’t have killed anything. He would have loved and honoured everything, helped it, guided it through anything. Cole even told me of Blaine beating the shit out of him for treating a girl badly and making her cry. I’d snorted at the time, remembering all the things he’s done to me in the pursuit of his needs, but now, looking back on it, there’s a significance in that story.
Cole snuffles to himself on my thigh, his cheek rubbing against me as he drifts deeper into sleep. Christ knows what I’m going to do with him when I get home. I don’t even know his address to send the cabbie on with him. He’ll have to come in, I suppose. He’s barely capable of speech, let alone instructing a cabbie where he lives, or he wasn’t when he drunkenly fell into the cab. Maybe he’ll wake up at some point and decide that for himself. I don’t know. If not, he can come in and sleep it off, wake up in the morning and we can chat some more. Or not.
If I’m completely honest with myself, I don’t even want to go home. I want to stay in this car and idle, or have it take me to Blaine’s house so I can walk that beach and let all this settle in my mind. I feel lost in my own apartment, like it’s empty of meaning. I don’t understand that other than it being missing of him. I feel like there’s no order in it anymore, or too much of the wrong kind of order. It doesn’t even feel like a home. Blaine’s house feels like home. I hate that. I hate that I’ve lost something I thought I knew, had it taken from me maybe, but I also can’t deny its calming effect on me.
“Cole, we’re home,” I say, shaking his shoulder as we finally hit the main street leading to my apartment. “Wake up.” Nothing. No movement. No more snuffles. Only a stream of drool that falls from the corner of his mouth and pools on my thigh. Nice. I roll my eyes and shove at him a little more fiercely. He splutters and coughs, then turns his head into my crotch, breathing deeply. Ewww. One Jacobs brother between my thighs is quite enough, regardless of the near mistake I made earlier in the evening. Store rooms, for god’s sake. What was I thinking? Which reminds me, I need to talk to Bree. Christ, lesbian happenings need discussing. I’m not gay. Or maybe I am. Screw it. I don’t really care what I am anymore.
I slap at his head, both hands helping him wake up as I try to scramble my crotch from his face.
“Cole, wake up for fuck’s sake.” Jesus. He splutters again, more drool pouring from him as his lips smack about together. Attractive. “We’re home.” My home. House. Apartment. Whatever the hell it is. “Come on, up, out.”
I fling some money at the cabbie, who doesn’t appear to want to help in the slightest as I eventually just get out of the car and let Cole flop back down onto the seat. My lips blow out a breath as I glare down at him, part wanting to slam the door on his head. Idiot.
“Right, come on then, you,” I say, heaving at his shoulders to get him out. He weighs a tonne, not unlike his brother, I should think. Still, I heave again, and again, until he half falls onto the pavement face first. Well, that should wake him up. It doesn’t. And the fact that the god damn cabbie just drives off as I close the door, neither giving me any help nor change, really pisses me off.
“COLE!” I shouted that. I don’t care. It’s late, or early, and there’s a flight of stairs to get up before I can get into my apartment. Nothing happens, other than more lips smacking and his body curling up into a ball on the pavement.
“Cole, Jesus. How much did you drink?” I’m not sure why I’m bothering with questions.
I end up heaving at him again, pulling him towards the doorway. At least if I get him there he’s out of the way. I might even leave him there if he doesn’t wake up on his own.
“Cole?” Still nothing as I tug his weight. “Cole, Christ.” Still nothing. “I bet if I got my boobs out you’d wake up,” I mutter with another pull. He stirs, words mumbling from his lips. “Yes, boobs, Cole. You want a feel?” I chuckle as he mutters something else. “How about cunts? You like those too?” His feet move at that word, which makes me laugh. Seems he’s more like his brother than
I thought. “Cunts and boobs, you want a blowjob too?” His eyes flicker open, a smile rising on his face. “You’ll have to get up for it, Cole,” I whisper, my lips close to his ear as I reach for the keypad on my door. “Chase me. Can you do that, baby?” I’m trying for sexy through my giggling fit, hoping it works. Bloody men and sex. It’s pathetic. “You want me to suck it for you?”
“Fascinating.” Fuck. My whole body freezes over Cole, my insides flipping over as Blaine’s voice drowns out any other noise available. I’m not even sure how this looks. I’ve just been talking about cunts and boobs, haven’t I? Did he hear that? Balls. “Moved on with my brother? He’ll disappoint you, little dove.”
“No,” I snap out, hoping for superiority. “He’s drunk. That’s …” Words stop as his shoes come into view and I scan the floor around them for inspiration, their highly polished surface reflecting in the street lights above. “I just. I’m trying to get him …” Oh god, this looks bad, doesn’t it? This looks really bad. He tells me about his privacy, then sends me away to think about that very thing, and I end up drunk with his brother talking about boobs and blowjobs? That’s bad. I’d be really pissed if I was him. Furious. I slowly creep my eyes up his legs, wondering what the hell I’m going to find when I eventually meet his eyes. Anger, rage? Possibly a slap. “Blaine, it’s not like you think,” I blurt out, desperate for him to calm down if he’s wound up.
“What do you think I think?” I have no idea. I glance at the door rather than at him, my fingers fumbling with the pad to open the damn thing as I continue supporting Cole’s head.
“Suck it,” along with something about babies, comes slurred from Cole’s mouth. Jesus.
This is horrendous. I could use another drink to deal with this shit. I laugh lightly and try organising Cole again, before deciding I should just leave him and drop his head to the pavement. I mean, his brother’s here now. He can deal with him, can’t he? I should leave before the argument starts about me fucking a brother I had no intention of ever fucking. Well, not after I realised he was a brother and zipped my jeans back up. Oh god, I’m leaving.
“Never could hold his liquor,” Blaine says, his presence getting closer to me. “And wouldn’t give you what you need if he was sober, anyway.” He’s smiling by the time I work up the courage to look back at him over my shoulder. It’s small, but it’s there nevertheless, showing me his humour at the situation he’s found us in. “He knows nothing of fucking like we do. You’d be unresponsive after the first slide into your cunt.” Nice. My mouth gapes at the comment, my hand half holding Cole’s shoulder still as I let his tone ebb into me again. Just the sound of those words bring every thought I’ve had over the last god knows how many hours flying into alignment. Love, respect, a position beneath this brother. Amusement even. “You going to try him on for size, little dove, see if average still works for you?” I frown at him, flicking my eyes to Cole’s prone body. “You can. I’ll watch, wait until it’s over and then listen to you beg for a decent fucking after.”
“That’s disgusting,” splutters out of me, the thought making me feel a little nauseous. He raises a brow and chuckles, his feet stepping over Cole’s frame to decrease the distance between us.
“Yes. Slutty. Have you been a slut again?”
“No.” My face screws up a little as he keeps looking at me. “Well, maybe a bit.”
“With my brother?”
“Sort of.” And Bree. I’m not telling him that. God knows what that might produce from him. He smiles, his frame closer still. “But I didn’t know he was your brother.” His hands come out of his pockets, both of them slowly bracing the wall next to my head, forcing me back to it. “What are you even doing here, Blaine?” And why can’t I think all of a sudden?
“Do you want to carry on, little dove?” What does that mean? I frown again as I stare up at him and watch him lick his lips. I’m not fucking his drunken brother. That’s screwed up beyond words, even for him. “You can tie me up, have your wicked way. Fuck with something while I gaze on, helpless.” My mouth opens, nothing comes out. I can’t even comprehend that thought. Him tied up? That’s just odd. It feels strange, although it would give me time to wander that skin of his if he was tied up, which makes me flick my eyes to his chest and ponder the thought. He closes in again until there’s nothing between us at all apart from a rigid cock and breath. “You want me inside you again?” Yes. “Want to imbed yourself again?” Fuck, yes. “You can have that. If you want it. Unlock your door. Just ask to take what you want and then we’ll go backwards.”
“But what about Cole?”
“You want both of us? Greedy girl. I’ll get him hard.” He smirks as he drops his eyes to my mouth. It’s all kinds of wrong, making me check my own inappropriate thoughts.
“Yuk.” I really wish I thought that with complete honesty attached, but Cole is cute. Seriously? I’m revolted with myself. He chuckles and leans his face into mine, his lips brushing over mine so softly I moan out in torment. “He’s your brother, Blaine,” I mumble. He just keeps kissing me, little concern to my statement until he backs off and stares downwards at a muttering Cole. “That’s too screwed up even for you.” He just smirks again. “I mean, have you done that?” He shakes his head slowly, his feet stepping over Cole again to move around him. “Then why would you? Look, he’s annihilated. That is not appropriate, Blaine.”
“I’m not the one that wants to fuck him, little dove. You are.” Oh, that’s not fair, and not entirely true either. I look back at him lying there like a baby on the pavement, his mouth moving around the snores emanating.
“I do not want your brother.”
“Yes, you do.” He says it with that tone that brooks no argument, the softer side of him disappearing into the ether as quick as it came. “Honesty.”
“No I don’t. He just .. Well, he just … And he was there, you know?” My hand flicks around, unsure how I explain this given my euphoric dancing come storeroom incident. I don’t even know if he’s angry about it or happy. Do sadists share like that? I shake my head again. We’re talking about his brother. It’s a horrendous thought. He must be furious. “And you weren’t, were you?” I’m backing away now as he keeps coming at me, my head glancing around the road. “Which is not my fault, is it? You sent me away to think. You weren’t there, Blaine. You left me on my own to think. So, I was thinking.”
“About fucking my brother.”
It’s not a question. It’s a statement. It’s also true. Bloody hell.
I look back to find him smiling quietly, making my fucking heart melt. It wasn’t about Cole really, it never was. It was about this man in front of me and the way he’s changed me, made me feel myself differently. It’s all about him and his mouth, or his thoughts.
“No, Blaine. I was thinking about fucking you.” He grins, his feet planted with no thought of moving them. “But he was handy. You weren’t.” That seems to increase the smile to the one that’s full of sex and sin, its curve as tempting as the twitch between my legs because of it. “Bree was too.” And that just changes it to an amused smirk of unknown proportions. Fuck, why did I say that? Although, it’s a beautiful look on him, enough to make me want to fall to my knees.
“Good. She’s appealing.”
“What?”
“Your friend. Fuckable.” My eyes could have popped out on stalks. I can’t believe he said that. Who says that sort of thing about your best friend? Possessiveness immediately floods me, filling me with selfish thoughts and bitter meanderings. “But you’re right, I shouldn’t have left you alone.” No, he’s right he shouldn’t. I don’t want alone. I never did. But seriously, fucking Bree?
“What the hell was that?” I snap out, hands on my hips. He keeps smirking, his fingers reaching for my door again as he steps away.
“Stop it, Alana. You’re being bratty,” he says, as he leans over Cole and begins heaving him around. Bratty? Screw him. “And you could have a very different reaction from me than the on
e you’re getting.” I narrow my stare of him as I watch him manoeuvre Cole towards the door, knowing that’s true. This could very well have resulted in fury and rage. Still, him thinking about sleeping with Bree is not okay. “Open the door, little dove. Or would you rather I took this degenerate home?”
“I’d rather you left, but you can both come.”
“Can we?” There’s an irony in his voice as I stab buttons on keypads again, barely understanding anything anymore. I’m too tired for all this. Too exhausted all of a sudden.
“Oh, fuck off.”
“Mouthy,” comes from him as he drags Cole across the threshold. Whatever. I’m so over worrying anymore. I should just say exactly what I think, at exactly the point in which I think it. “You’re asking for a fucking you can’t walk away from.” He’s laughing as he says that, seemingly finding my confusion hilarious. If I didn’t know better I’d say he was drunk with the amount of amusement that’s coming from him.
“I have no comprehension of what you’re going on about,” I reply, slipping my key into the lock and opening the door.
“I’m having fun, Alana.”
“You’re being an asshole, Blaine,” I snap back, throwing my keys on the table and watching him continue to drag Cole through to my office. What’s he going in there for? I follow and gape as he drops him, quite unceremoniously, in a pile in the corner. “You just said you wanted to fuck Bree. Come on, that’s not okay.”
“But you wanting to fuck this is?” He glances at Cole, his brow raised again, which makes me consider the implication. “Did I tell you that you couldn’t?” That’s not the point. I don’t think it is. He just caught me in an off moment. I would never have asked otherwise. And it’s all his damn fault anyway. He left me alone without him, made me do things I wouldn’t normally do. Now he’s telling me I can do anything I want? He’s the most possessive man I’ve ever met and yet we’re discussing other partners?
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