“Alex, you can stop brooding and go first,” Damien joked.
Alex rolled his eyes then looked at me, thinking about what to ask. His face was still flushed from the exercise, the pink of his cheeks a contrast to his pale skin and dark hair. “What do you do for work?” he asked.
“I’m a writer. Well, kind of. I freelance right now, doing online gigs with a couple businesses, but I eventually hope to do something steady full-time, whether that’s following my far-out dream of being an author or doing something in marketing, which is what I’m majoring in.”
“Do you make decent money writing?”
“You only get one question until your next turn! But, no. Not yet, anyway. I’m next. Damien, what’s your favorite possession?”
“Why, are you thinking I have some cool shit now that you know I have money?” He was trying to joke, but his smile shielded some sort of emotion. Was he upset? Irritated?
“No, I just thought maybe you might have some weird hobby, like collecting creepy clown figurines or some shit.”
He rolled his eyes but answered seriously. “It’s dumb, but I still have the collar of the dog I grew up with. He was a chocolate lab named Charlie. My family got him when I was six years old, and he was my best friend.” My heart ached at the solemn look on his face, which he again quickly tried to cover with a smile. “But that was a long time ago. No more sappy shit from me. Alex, you’re up.”
As I looked from one to the other, I once again couldn’t help but see the stark contrast between them. Damien stood out while Alex tried to blend into the shadows. Damien’s personality relied on flirting and humor, and Alex was quiet and rough and intimidating. Damien was the sun, and Alex was the moon. A perfectly synergistic pair.
Alex asked, “Why didn’t you want us to see where you live when we dropped you off at your apartment?”
I shrugged. “Just a precaution. Even though you guys were very . . . welcoming since I’ve been here, I still don’t really know you that well.”
“Yet you willingly came to stay with us for a whole weekend again.”
“What can I say? I guess you’re just irresistible,” I teased. Alex smiled in spite of himself.
“Plus, I’ve had too many bad experiences with men who don’t understand boundaries, as you have now seen twice in your short time knowing me, so you can’t really blame me. Anyway, it's my turn. Alex, what’s your favorite book?” I thought back to him reading last weekend. Damien went to the kitchen as Alex answered.
“I’m not sure if I have one favorite. I like the classics: East of Eden, Frankenstein, Lord of the Flies, The Count of Monte Cristo . . .” He trailed off and shrugged, as if there were simply too many books to list.
“You know, I wasn’t ever really a fan of Lord of the Flies,” I said. “Too violent.”
“I think it’s a book that shows the darker side of humanity, what happens when we’re left to our own devices for survival and control. It is violent, but isn’t violence a core trait of humanity anyway?”
I nodded, speechless and surprised at the depth of intelligence he seemed to have. “I guess that’s a good point. But do you really think people are all violent due to their nature, or is it the type of world we’ve grown up in that’s made us that way?”
Alex seemed to be mulling over what he was about to say, but Damien interrupted, shouting “My turn!” as he returned from the kitchen with two beers in hand. He opened one, chugged it, and tossed the can to the side.
“Charming,” I deadpanned.
“You know it,” he answered with a grin. I shook my head, smiling, and took a swig of my own drink in solidarity. “Alright, Serena, what’s your favorite sex position?”
I choked on my drink. “What are we, teenagers? I don’t have a favorite sex position.”
“Come on,” he lamented, “you have to have one.”
“Nope. Everything depends on the guy, and how he can use his . . . talents.”
“Oh, really?” Damien cocked an eyebrow. “Should we put it to the test?”
“Don’t think you can get lucky that easily,” I teased. They could totally get lucky that easily.
“On that note,” Alex said, “I’m getting another drink. Serena, you want one?”
Damien still had his beer, but he followed along anyway as Alex and I rose from our seats and headed to the kitchen. The air was filled with tight, buzzing sexual tension with our close proximity and the lack of noise that the party had provided earlier. We poured our drinks, and Alex poured three shots of tequila, one for each of us. I only winced a little at the taste this time.
“My turn again,” Alex said after taking his shot. “Serena. Do you have any kinks?” He met my eyes with an unflinching gaze. His rough voice combined with the burning heat, the hunger, in his eyes was enough to make me clench my thighs and think about him bending me over the couch and fucking me last weekend.
“Um—well, I don’t really know . . .” I stuttered and felt a flush creep into my cheeks. He was so direct; I wasn’t used to that. Usually new relationships—or whatever this whole thing was, which I suppose was more like double fuck buddies—involved so much dancing around subjects like sexual preferences. These men didn’t dance around conversations, but jumped into them headfirst with no hesitation.
“Yes, you do know. Tell me.” There was an edge in his voice. This wasn’t a question, it was a command.
The combination of alcohol and embarrassment meant that my face was probably flushed bright red. I’m sure they could tell. “Um, I guess I like . . . being tied up sometimes.”
“What else?”