The first sensation that hits me as consciousness seeps back into my bones is the wet, warm trail of saliva sliding down from Erica's mouth to my cheek. My eyes flutter open to the sight of her drool, a shiny line connecting us in the most unglamorous way possible. She's sprawled on top of me like a warrior queen claiming her territory, unconscious to the world and, apparently, to gravity's effect on bodily fluids.
"Ugh," she mutters, her voice still thick with sleep as her blue eyes blink open.
"Sorry," she groans, dragging the back of her hand across my skin, smearing away the drool with a tenderness that belies her rough exterior.
I can't help the laugh that bubbles up from my chest, though it comes out more like a snort. "Ew," I chuckle, shaking my head at the dampness cooling on my cheek.
Erica smirks, her eyelids half-mast yet sharp with amusement. "Don't act like you aren't used to it. You get covered in my spit every time we fuck" Her tone is playful, but there's an edge to it, like a cat swiping at you with velveted claws.
"I mean not covered all over just the one part, but true," I concede, keeping my tone light.
Erica's smirk softens into something more tender as she leans in, her lips brushing against mine. The kiss is gentle at first, a stark contrast to her usual intensity. But then her fingers thread through my hair, gripping tight as she deepens the kiss. Her tongue dances with mine, tasting of last night's whiskey and the faint hint of mint from her toothpaste. The warmth of her body pressed against mine sends sparks of electricity coursing through my veins.
When she finally pulls away, her blue eyes are dark with desire. "You know," she purrs, her voice husky, "I'm thinking we should have a party today."
I blink, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. "A party? It has been a while, hasn't it?"
She shrugs, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders like a golden waterfall. "Right? It's been forever since we've had everyone over."
"Oh," I say, remembering something important. "Speaking of everyone, what about helping Riley get back to her world? Have you made any progress on that?"
Erica's expression clouds over, her jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. When she speaks, her tone carries a warning edge, like the low growl of a predator. "The spells take time to prepare, Jason. You know that."
I nod quickly, recognizing the unspoken command to drop the subject. "Right, of course. So, uh, who were you thinking of inviting to this party?"
Her posture relaxes slightly, but there's still a glint in her eye that makes me tread carefully. "The usual crowd," she says, idly tracing patterns on my chest with her fingertip. "Plus Tessa. It's been a while since she's graced us with her presence."
"Cool," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady despite the shivers her touch is sending through me. "What about Justine? Can she come too?"
Erica sighs, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Yeah, She and Nikki hang out a lot now, so she's officially part of the group now." She speaks as if letting Justine into her little delinquent gang is a betrayal of all her nonexistent morals.
*****
The clink of glass was sharp and clear, a prelude to the night's mischief. I watched as Erica, Tara, Nikki, and Justine each raised their shot glasses with a sort of ceremonial flair that only comes from the ritualistic imbibing of alcohol. We were an eclectic bunch gathered in the dimly lit grandeur of Erica's mansion, where even the shadows seemed to revel in our antics.
"To big shits," Tara declared with a smirk, her electric blue streaks catching the chandelier's ghostly light as she tipped her head back.
We all echoed the toast, a chorus of chuckles filling the space around us. The vodka slipped down my throat like liquid fire, promising warmth and a night devoid of inhibitions. I could feel the peculiar weightlessness that accompanies the first shot of the evening, the sense that gravity had loosened its grip ever so slightly.
'I keep forgetting to bring my hulk hands from home' I sigh inwardly.
"Are we taking shots to poop now?" Erica's voice cut through the laughter, rough and laced with amusement. Her piercing blue eyes glinted with that familiar rebellious spark as she squatted next to me, her cigarette momentarily forgotten.
Tara leaned forward, her wiry frame animated by the alcohol's early whispers. "Been backed up lately," she confessed, her tone a mix of jest and candor. "Really hope to shit soon."
"Understandable." Erica nodded sagely, a mock solemnity settling over her features.
Justine, her fiery red hair and a wild halo around her face, swayed slightly as she looked at our group with glassy eyes. The alcohol had painted a rosy flush across her cheeks. She leaned in conspiratorially, her green eyes wide with mischief.
"Speaking of shits," she said, her words slurring just a bit, "lately, mine have been bubbling in the toilet."
I cocked my head, confusion furrowing my brow. The room seemed to tilt slightly as I processed her words, the vodka working its magic on my perception. "What the fuck does that mean?"
Justine's face lit up with an almost childlike glee, her hands gesticulating wildly as she explained. "It's the weirdest thing! Whenever I take a dump and look at it, my shit seems to be frothing in the toilet. Like, honest-to-god bubbling!"
I turned to Erica, seeking some sort of rational explanation or at least a shared look of bewilderment. But Erica, in all her delinquent glory, just threw her head back and let out a raucous laugh. She pointed at Justine, cigarette dangling precariously from her fingers.
"Holy shit, Justine!" Erica wheezed between laughs. "You've got fucking carbonated shits!"
Justine, far from being embarrassed, sat up straighter, a proud grin spreading across her face. The motion caused her to wobble slightly, and she grabbed onto the arm of the antique chaise lounge to steady herself. "I think it's kinda cool, actually," she declared, her voice filled with a tipsy sort of wonder. "It's like my ass is making its own soda or something!"
The room erupted into a cacophony of laughter and mock gagging sounds. Erica, still chuckling, reached for the bottle of vodka on the ornate coffee table. Her movements were fluid, almost predatory, as she poured two more shots with practiced ease.
"Let's try this," she purred, her blue eyes glinting with mischief. She pressed one of the shot glasses into my hand, her fingers lingering on mine for a moment longer than necessary. "Feed it to me, and I'll do the same for you."
My heart raced as I took the glass, the cool surface a stark contrast to my suddenly warm skin. Erica leaned in close, her breath hot against my ear as she whispered, "Don't spill a drop, or there'll be consequences."
We locked eyes, a silent challenge passing between us. I raised the glass to her lips, my hand trembling slightly as I tipped it back. The vodka flowed into her mouth, a single drop escaping to trail down her chin. Without breaking eye contact, Erica's tongue darted out to catch it, the gesture both sensual and slightly terrifying.
She mirrored my actions, bringing her glass to my lips. The burn of the alcohol was nothing compared to the fire in her gaze. As the last of the vodka slid down my throat, I found myself leaning in, drawn by an invisible force to those full, tempting lips.
Just then, the doorbell rang, its chime echoing through the cavernous halls of the mansion. Erica's head snapped towards the sound, her eyes narrowing in annoyance.
"Tara," she barked, her voice carrying the unmistakable tone of command, "Go let Tessa in."
Tara scrambled to her feet, nearly tripping over her own legs in her haste to obey. As soon as she was out of sight, Erica's attention snapped back to me. Her hand shot out, gripping the back of my neck with unsurprising strength.
"Now," she growled, "where were we?"
Before I could respond, she pulled me in, crushing her lips against mine. The kiss was fierce, almost bruising in its intensity. Her tongue invaded my mouth, tasting of vodka and something uniquely Erica. I felt myself melting into her embrace, my hands finding themselves on her hips as she straddled me.
The world around us faded away, the sounds of our friends' chatter and laughter becoming a distant backdrop to the symphony of our shared breaths and racing hearts. At that moment, trapped between Erica's demanding lips and the plush cushions of the couch, I was exactly where I wanted to be, and exactly where she wanted me.
As Erica's lips moved against mine, the world seemed to fade away into a haze of vodka-tinged passion. Her fingers tangled in my hair, tugging gently as she deepened the kiss. The taste of her tongue, the warmth of her body pressed against mine, the soft sighs escaping her throat, it was all-consuming, intoxicating.
Then, cutting through our bubble of bliss like a knife, "Ugh, You two are fucking disgusting."
Brooke's voice, dripping with disdain, shattered the moment. Erica jerked back, her blue eyes flashing dangerously as they locked onto my sister. Her lips, lightly swollen from our heated kiss, curled into a snarl.
"Who the fuck invited you?" Erica barked, her tone sharp enough to cut glass.
I blinked, my alcohol-addled brain struggling to process Brooke's sudden appearance. The room swam slightly as I turned to look at her, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed and a scowl etched on her face.
Before Brooke could respond, Tessa's imposing figure appeared behind her. The older woman's calm, authoritative presence seemed to fill the room instantly.
"My apologies," Tessa said, her voice smooth and controlled. "I thought it would be alright to bring her along, given that she's Jason's sister."
I gaped at Brooke, surprise finally breaking through the fog of desire and vodka. "Brooke? What... what are you doing here?"
My sister's hazel eyes, so similar to my own, narrowed as they flickered between Erica and me. Her athletic frame was tense, coiled like a spring ready to snap.
"I wanted to make sure you're safe here," she bit out, her words clipped and annoyed. "Clearly, I had good reason to be concerned."
Erica's laugh was harsh and mocking. "Safe? Oh, dear sister, he's perfectly safe. Well, as safe as he wants to be." Her hand slid possessively down my chest, and I could feel the heat of her palm through my shirt.
Brooke's face contorted with anger. "Whatever."
As the tension between Erica and Brooke crackled in the air, Nikki stumbled into the room, her eyes widening comically as they caught sight of Tessa's towering figure.
"Oh my god!" Nikki exclaimed, her voice a mix of awe and excitement. Tessa's presence seemed to fill the ornate room, her gothic attire a stark contrast to the gilded furnishings of Erica's mansion.
Tara's electric blue streaks caught the light as she bounced on her toes, looking like an overexcited puppy. Nikki, usually so composed, was grinning from ear to ear, her cap askew on her messy brown hair.
Justine, her fiery red locks cascading over her shoulders, stepped forward with a confidence that only alcohol could provide. She extended her hand to Tessa, a warm smile lighting up her face.
"Hey there, tall, dark, and gorgeous," Justine purred, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. "I'm Justine. It's a pleasure to meet the legendary Tessa in the flesh."
'What the fuck Justine. That feels racist? I mean, she's as white as could be.'
Tessa's grey eyes crinkled with amusement as she shook Justine's hand. "The pleasure's all mine," she replied, her voice a low, melodious rumble that seemed to reverberate through the room.
As introductions were made, I watched in disbelief as Brooke, still scowling, raised her fist to Justine. Without missing a beat, Justine returned the gesture, their hands meeting in a perfect dap.
A pang of jealousy shot through me. Here I was, in a world where men aren't allowed to dap. And yet, my own sister was effortlessly exchanging this sacred greeting with my friends.
'This is fucking bullshit.'
I leaned in close to Erica, my lips brushing her ear as I whispered, "Hey, since you know I'm from a different world now... think you could dap me up?"
Erica's eyes widened for a moment before she pressed a finger to my lips, shushing me softly. Her blue eyes darted around the room, checking if anyone had overheard. The tension in her shoulders eased slightly when she confirmed we weren't the center of attention.
"Not here," she breathed, her voice barely audible over the chatter of our friends. "Later."
I nod at Erica, my heart racing at the prospect of the forbidden dap. The room seems to spin slightly as I turn my attention back to the group, the vodka working its magic on my senses.
Brooke's eyes land on the bottle of vodka, the glass glinting in the dim light. She sighs heavily, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world rests upon them.
"Fuck it," she mutters, striding over to the coffee table. "It's time to get fucking wasted."
Tessa's eyebrows shoot up, her grey eyes widening in surprise. "I didn't take you for the drinking type," she remarks, her tone a mix of curiosity and amusement.
Brooke meets Tessa's gaze, a wry smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I'm usually not," she admits, her hazel eyes flickering to me for a brief moment. In that fleeting glance, I catch a glimpse of the longing she tries so hard to conceal.
She turns back to Tessa, her smile widening into a grin. "But when in Rome, right?"
Tessa nods, her lips curling into a cool, approving smirk. "Indeed."
Erica, ever the ringleader, takes charge. She grabs the vodka bottle, pouring a round of shots with practiced ease. The clear liquid sloshes into the glasses, promising oblivion and a night of reckless abandon.
As the night goes on, the room blurs into a kaleidoscope of colors and laughter as we go down shot after shot. Erica's arm is draped possessively over my shoulders, her fingers still tracing lazy patterns on my skin.
Suddenly, her lips are on my neck, hot and insistent. I gasp as she sucks hard, marking me as hers. The pain mingles with pleasure, sending shivers down my spine. When she pulls back, her blue eyes are dark with desire and a hint of smugness.
"There," she slurs, poking at the fresh bruise. "Now everyone will know you're mine."
Brooke, swaying slightly where she sits, narrows her eyes at the hickey. Her words come out in a drunken jumble. "Hey Erica... how big is it? Jason's dick, I mean."
I choke on my drink, coughing, and spluttering. Erica just laughs, loud and unrestrained.
"Pretty big, I think. Got nothin' to compare it to, though." Erica says with a shrug.
'Just say huge, Erica. Come on!.'
Brooke's brow furrows in confusion. "Wait... were you a virgin before my brother?"
Erica's eyes flash dangerously for a moment before she grins, all teeth and bravado. "Yeah, so what? Bet I've had more sex than anyone here now."
She turns to me, grabbing my arm and holding it up like a prized possession. "This guy can't get enough of me. We fuck, like, all the time."
Brooke's eyes narrow, her gaze unfocused as she sways slightly in her seat. The alcohol has clearly loosened her tongue because she leans forward, jabbing a finger in Erica's direction.
"All this... this bravado," she slurs, her words tumbling out in a drunken jumble. "Is it real? Do you two actually fuck like... like wild animals?"
The room goes eerily quiet, the tension palpable. I feel my face burning, a deep blush creeping up my neck and spreading across my cheeks. Erica's arm tightens around me, her nails digging into my skin.
Erica's eyes light up with a hatred so intense it's almost palpable. Her lips curl into a smile that's all teeth and danger, like a predator about to pounce.
"Oh, it's real, alright," she purrs, her voice dripping with venom and pride. "Jason here? He's like a fucking pornstar." She runs her fingers through my hair, gripping it tightly. "God put him on this earth for one reason to get fucked by Erica Knight."
I duck my head, embarrassment and arousal warring within me. The room spins slightly, the vodka making everything hazy and surreal.
Brooke's eyes widen, her mouth hanging open in shock. She looks at me, her gaze searching. "Really?" she asks, her voice small and disbelieving.
The alcohol thrumming through my veins makes me bold. I nod, unable to meet her eyes but unable to deny it either. "Y-yeah," I stammer, my voice barely above a whisper.
Erica's hand moves to the back of my neck, squeezing gently. "Good boy," she coos, her voice filled with satisfaction and possessive pride.
Justine, her fiery red hair a tangled mess and her emerald eyes glassy with intoxication stumbles towards Brooke. She sways precariously, catching herself on the ornate armchair before collapsing into it next to my sister.
"Listen," Justine stage-whispers. "I know Erica seems all tough and scary, but she's actually super gentle with Jason. Like, seriously gentle. It's kinda sweet, really."
Brooke's eyebrows shoot up, disbelief etched across her features. She glances over at Erica and me, her gaze flickering between us as if trying to reconcile this new information with what she knows.
Erica, overhearing Justine's drunken confession, lets out a bark of laughter. Her blue eyes are hazy with alcohol, but there's a warmth there I've rarely seen before. She pulls me closer, nuzzling into my neck before speaking.
"Yeah, well," she drawls, her words slightly slurred, "I love him more than just as a dildo, y'know?"
I can't help but laugh at her crude honesty. I notice a flicker of uncertainty cross her face. Her grip on me tightens almost imperceptibly.
"No, baby, really," she says, her voice suddenly serious despite the alcohol. "You mean the world to me. I don't even care about the sex."
The laughter dies in my throat as I realize she thinks I'm offended. I open my mouth to reassure her, but before I can speak, Tessa's voice cuts through the tension.
"Well, well," Tessa drawls, her grey eyes twinkling with amusement. "Look at Erica Knight, the big bad delinquent turned into a total simp."
Erica's head whips around, her blonde hair flying wildly. "No Fucking way! I'd Never!" she protests vehemently, her cheeks flushed with more than just alcohol. But then she pauses, her brow furrowing in drunken contemplation. "Wait," she slurs, turning back to me with a lopsided grin. "Actually I don't give a shit what you think, Tess. Jason's worth being a simp for."
Justine's laughter peals through the room like a bell, her emerald eyes sparkling with joy. She stumbles to her feet, swaying dangerously before catching herself on the back of a nearby chair.
"Oh man, Tessa," she gasps between fits of laughter, "you've got it all wrong. Jason here? He's the real simp. Like next-level, write-sonnets-about-her-eyebrows kind of simp."
Erica's head snaps up, her blue eyes narrowing. "Nuh-uh," she slurs, pulling me closer possessively. "I'm the biggest simp. Me. Erica Knight. Queen of the Simps."
'Wow she really 180'd.'
Tessa's eyebrows knit together, her grey eyes clouding with confusion and annoyance. She opens her mouth to speak, but before she can, Brooke's drunken laugh cuts through the air like a knife.
"You think you're a simp Erica?" Brooke cackles, her words running together in a barely intelligible stream. She leans forward, nearly falling off her seat as she points an accusing finger at me. "Jason here... he tried to kill Lyra's unborn baby for you, Erica. That's some next-level simp shit right there."
The room goes deathly quiet. Tara, Nikki, and Justine gasp in unison, their eyes wide with shock. Tessa, however, doesn't even flinch. Her cool grey eyes flicker between Brooke and me as if she already knew this information.
The air in the room suddenly becomes thick and suffocating, as if all the oxygen has been sucked out in an instant. Erica's body goes rigid against mine, her muscles coiling like a predator ready to pounce. Her blue eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, now burn with a fury so intense it's almost palpable. The temperature seems to drop several degrees as she slowly turns her gaze to Brooke, her lips pulling back in a snarl that reveals teeth clenched so tight I can almost hear them grinding.
"You fucking bitch," Erica hisses, her voice low and dangerous, dripping with venom. She rises from her seat with a fluid grace that belies her intoxicated state, her movements reminiscent of a lioness stalking her prey. The look in her eyes is murderous, promising a world of pain and retribution.
"How dare you?" Erica's voice rises, filling the room with her rage. "You want to talk about next-level shit? Let's talk about how Jason was RAPED, savagely RAPED by that psychotic bitch Lyra!"
The words explode from her like a bomb, shattering the stunned silence. Everyone in the room flinches, their faces contorting in shock and horror.
Erica's not done. She advances on Brooke, her finger jabbing accusingly in her direction. "And you, you fucking traitor, you brought her to our doorstep! You led that monster right to him!"
Brooke's face drains of all color, her earlier drunken bravado evaporating in an instant. She shrinks back into her seat, her hazel eyes wide with terror and regret. "I-I'm sorry," she stutters, her words tripping over each other in her haste to apologize. "I didn't mean to take it too far. I'm drunk. I'm sorry."
Her gaze flicks to me, filled with a sadness so profound it's almost tangible. "Jason, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to offend... I never wanted to..."
But I can't look at her. The anger bubbling up inside me is too intense, too raw. She told everyone. She outed one of my deepest, most painful secrets to a room full of people. I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I struggle to contain the maelstrom of emotions threatening to overwhelm me.
Erica's rage is a palpable force, crackling through the air like electricity. Her fists clench and unclench at her sides, knuckles white with tension. She takes a menacing step towards Brooke, who shrinks further into her seat, eyes wide with terror.
The room holds its collective breath, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. Tessa's grey eyes dart between Erica and Brooke, her body tensed and ready to intervene if necessary. Justine and Nikki exchange worried glances while Tara looks on with a mixture of fear and fascination.
As Erica draws back her fist, time seems to slow down. Brooke flinches, squeezing her eyes shut in anticipation of the blow.
But then, cutting through the charged atmosphere I speak. "Erica, stop."
My voice is calm, steady, a stark contrast to the chaos unfolding around us. Erica freezes mid-motion, her blue eyes snapping to me in disbelief.
"Just leave it be," I continue, my words slightly slurred but firm. "We're drunk, and I don't want my fiancée to get arrested because she assaulted my sister."
The word 'fiancée' seems to hang in the air, shimmering like a mirage. Erica's eyes widened, and a flicker of surprise and something softer passed over her face.
Slowly, painfully slowly, Erica lowers her fist. Her chest heaves with each breath, the fury still evident in the set of her jaw and the fire in her eyes. But she doesn't strike.
Brooke, realizing she's been granted a reprieve, lets out a shaky breath. "Thank you," she whispers, her voice barely audible. Her hazel eyes, so similar to my own, are filled with a mixture of relief and shame.
Tessa's gaze flicks between Erica and me, her grey eyes wide with astonishment. The usually unflappable woman looks genuinely shocked, her composure slipping for a moment as she watches Erica walk back to me on unsteady feet.
Tara, noticing Tessa's reaction, nods sagely. "It's really something, isn't it?" she says, her voice filled with awe. "That anyone can make her see reason like that."
Erica's eyes flash with a mix of anger and desire as she suddenly lurches on her feet, swaying slightly. She grabs my arm, her grip tight and possessive.
"Fine," she slurs, her voice husky and dangerous. "If I can't beat the shit out of your sister, I might as well fuck the shit out of you instead."
She yanks me up, pulling me against her body. The heat radiating off her is intoxicating, mixing with the vodka coursing through my veins. I can't help the grin that spreads across my face as I steady myself against her.
"Sounds good to me," I say, my words slightly slurred. "Night, everyone!"
As Erica drags me toward our room, I catch glimpses of the other's reactions. Tessa's eyebrows are raised so high they've practically disappeared into her hairline. Brooke looks like she's about to be sick. Tara and Nikki are giggling uncontrollably.
Justine, her face flushed with alcohol, gives an awkward wave. "Uh, goodnight guys. Have...fun?"
Her voice trails off uncertainly as Erica and I stumble down the hall. As we make our way down the hallway, I can hear the conversation continuing behind us.
"God, Justine," Tara's voice carries, thick with exasperation. "You really don't fit in with this group, you know that?"
There's a pause, and then Nikki's voice pipes up, defensive and slurred. "Hey, lay off. Justine's cool."
Tara's sigh is audible even from a distance. "Whatever you say..."