Chapter 6.1: Dropped Set

Angie, once she drags herself out of bed to find us, is only a little annoyed that we learned my name without her and went trundling through the internet to find out more. She insists on doing a more thorough and focused search later, one that doesn’t lead to half-deleted photo shoots and out-of-print magazines and catalogs. It takes an inordinate amount of prodding and cajoling but she blushingly admits she would have had an intense crush. Not to say that she doesn’t have one now, but it’s different. I give her a gentle kiss on the cheek and giggle when the blush starts to spread from her cheeks down to her chest.

We don’t dig much deeper that night, choosing to get ready for bed. The next day is a return to their normal schedules, with Billy working from home and Angie heading to the university campus library. Even though they do what we’ve done every night and hold me between them, I can’t drift off like I have every other night. The thought of meeting new people is terrifying after so long, even if there is going to be a screen in the way. I drift tenuously between the borders of rest and memories that I know will make me spiral again. As soon as Billy wakes and I’m still struggling, I know it’s going to be a tough day for him and I start apologizing. He sluggishly tells me it’s fine as he drags us through his morning routine. He’s shoving pants into a bag when he finally draws up short.

Oh thank fuck, I sigh, snuggling myself apologetically into his slightly dimmed presence. Listen, I really am sorry about keeping us up all night.

He shakes our head. It’s just anxiety, Peej. I think you’re allowed after being dead for however long. He stares down at the bag hard. We’ve got a much bigger problem. You think you can keep it in our pants for a morning workout? Should we, I don’t know, rub one out before we go? I think for a second about getting to watch and feel this body lift so much heavier than before and we have to both force back a moan. Then I think about being surrounded by other sweaty grunting people doing the same thing and the hard-on we were developing seems to instantly deflate. Billy blinks a few times in confusion before breaking out into a massive grin.

Wait, no, don’t you dare say it!

It’s me! You want me! He laughs softly out loud and bites at our lip. He checks on Angie to make sure she’s still asleep before hastily packing the rest of his gym bag and heading downstairs. The bag gets unceremoniously dumped by the front door as he looks around. We’ve got a full length mirror around here somewhere. We’re still going to the gym and we’re still getting off first, but you’re gonna show me how sexy you think I am.

I have never been so mortified in my unlife.

The mirror is in the garage and he lifts the thing like it barely has weight even though I can feel the slight strain it makes in our shoulders. Billy’s shit-eating grin only grows as he catches a glimpse of our growing arousal. I’m pretty sure he’s into me being so into him and it’s creating an awful feedback loop between us. The mirror gets propped up in the living room and, after the briefest moment of forethought, he closes the curtains pointing out to the street. Then he’s whipping off and tossing aside clothes in a rush to the mirror.

It really is unfair that he can do this to me so easily, work me into a frothing puddle of want and desire. The one thing I’ve known in this entire adventure is that I had no interest in men and especially not ones this traditionally masculine until him. Billy’s quiet as he takes us in for a long moment, like he can see me lurking inside his skin. I know he can feel my anticipation and how eager I am. Then he breaks into a bright smile in spite of the bags under his eyes and starts flexing and posing.

It’s nothing I haven’t seen over the past several days but it still leaves me in complete awe. Sure, he loves to show off, proud of the hard work and dedication put into making him look this good. And he’s confident to a fault because of it and knows exactly how much his body can take.

I can’t help remembering him panting into a gag as Angie soothes her final strike to our thigh, right on the verge of where it actually starts to hurt. I remember him pushing until his arms and legs shake on the precipice of losing his form, back arched off the bench.

He remembers crashing through the trees and wishing he’d convinced Angie to be the one chasing him down, because she would have his mind churning with the possibilities of where she’d strike from and how and he’d have to hope to push his body to react in time. He reflects on diligently practicing yoga and stretching on his gym off days, making sure he wasn’t just nice to look at and that his partners could move him in any way they desired.

We keep going back and forth as we drive ourselves wild, even the barest touches of our own fingertips leaving us shivering because we know which of us put it there. I tell him what Angie said about watching us like this, how hot it was and the smolder in her eyes, and it drives us over the edge.

We slowly sink down to the floor and blink our eyes open, unsure who closed them or when. The mirror is a mess of slowly dripping cum, the floor between us is too. Our clothes are everywhere. And Angie is watching us from the kitchen over a mug of coffee that does nothing to hide her smirk.

“You have a meeting in about 30 minutes, love,” she says cheerfully as she stands to leave her mug in the sink and no one is supposed to look that hot in a cardigan.
I know it has nothing to do with the cardigan and everything to do with her, but really that cardigan should be doing more work to make her look less like a walking librarian fantasy. She doesn’t even have shoes on yet but I can imagine the clack of heels half hidden under the wide black pants legs concealing beautifully toned legs and failing to hide her near perfect ass. The button down and tie with the messy bun are probably what’s doing me in. She makes business casual look like a porn category.

“I have a town hall to attend after my shift so I’ll be home late. Be good, you two. And clean up after yourselves.” She drops a kiss on the top of our head that makes us whimper then saunters out the front door, pausing to pull on a cute pair of flats but never looking back.

“I don’t think we’re making it to the gym before work,” I mumble out loud as I try not to fall asleep. Billy hums in agreement, taking a little time to breathe before cleaning up. I shouldn’t be surprised by the cleaning kit stashed away in the cabinet with board games and gaming console controllers but I still laugh and he blushes deeply. Together, we manage to drag our tired body through cleaning, redressing, and making a coffee abomination just in time to make it to our desk and open the call. I try to sit back and not get in the way. Besides, I want to see what it is that he actually does.

The meeting is long and impossibly boring. Almost all of Billy’s fellow colleagues look like clones of the idea of a tech bro with their overly casual but wildly uncomfortable looking unlabeled shirts. He has to clear our throat to keep from laughing out loud as I tear apart each of them one by one. When the meeting is finally over, we get a ping in a work chat that makes Billy break into an excited grin. His fingers fly over his weird keyboard before he opens a completely different app and hops in a video call, taking a sip of cold coffee as it connects.

“You look wrecked, pretty boy,” says the woman with a shit-eating grin and the worst posture I can imagine contorted into a chair like ours. Her brown hair is braided back into pigtails and her thigh-highs and shorts clash hilariously with her oversized sweater and its fake button-down collar. Something tickles at the edge of my memory, seeing that same grin looking back at me from somewhere very different. Maybe it was just from seeing Billy grin like that. “So what happened? Ang had her little Final Girl fantasy then kept you tied up for 5 days knotted on a fucking machine or what?” Billy blushes hard, spitting out a little bit of coffee. Whoever this is, I need to be her friend.

“I… it was…” he stammers and I’m tempted to help him out a little. “It wasn’t the whole weekend, Lils.” He shyly rubs at an arm and shrugs, desperately trying not to blush harder. “It kind of wasn’t even half.” I can feel him trying to push back the memories that want to surface and I help just this once to his relief. “It’s a really long story, actually. And weird.”

In a flash of rearranging limbs, she’s leaning in to the camera. “Okay, now you have to tell me! What did you and your girlfriend do that made you, Mr. Up Before Dawn, skip going to the gym with me this morning?” She squints at us through the camera. “Don’t act like I don’t know you, William Kinley.” She pulls a face. “Ugh, and don’t make me keep using your government name. It’s weird.” A little crinkle forms between her eyebrows as she looks away from the camera and to, presumably, a screen. “Speaking of weird, did you accidentally turn on a filter again? Or get cosplay contacts or something? Your eyes look… muddy?”

We both give her a confused look, checking the feed for ourselves, and she’s right. There’s a brown color seeping into Billy’s normal green to make it look almost hazel. One that hadn’t been there the whole weekend. His mind races trying to find a good excuse and comes up short so I step in.

“Yeah, it’s a new thing Angie wants to try,” I say in my best impression. I know we sound different from each other but I’m hoping impersonation is enough for anyone not us or Angie.

It isn’t and her eyes narrow as she looks back at the camera. “You take every chance to call her Ang with me because she doesn’t let you do it to her face and you know most people would rat you out. I’m coming over. We’re talking. We’re going to the gym at my place then eating junk food for lunch. And you’re not backing out, bottom bitch.” She gives a little finger wave of her chipped manicure before disconnecting the call.

Billy groans as he flops back into the chair, scrubbing at his face. “Great. Our eye color is changing and I think Lils somehow knows. She fucking always knows. Peej. Peej? She doesn’t live that far away, we need a plan for this.”

But I’m still trying to fish for a memory I know has to be there, focusing hard on that image of a shit-eating grin and terrible posture, this time wearing some of my clothes and showing off far more of her light brown skin. The shorts she borrowed don’t fit quite right and she keeps tugging at them. The whole image coalesces on a futon in that awful little studio, telling me bluntly that I should get a sugar daddy who’s too old to actually fuck and wring him dry of every cent so I can write like I always wanted to do. As the dredged up memory fades I break into a massive smile. She’s doing even better now than when I last saw her, well into her transition. Billy just makes an awed sound of disbelief.

“You had better have been taking care of Lilith,” I giggle. “I can’t believe she lets you call her Lils.”

He lets out an indelicate snort. “She thought it was funny and it kind of stuck.”

“That happens a lot around you, doesn’t it?”