#cod kinktober

Adler tried to be quiet as he crept through the door, back into your home. He couldn’t bear to wake you. It was the middle of the night, and he was already hyperaware of all of the annoyances, questions he couldn’t answer, petty annoyances, security checks, and long absences that you put up with for his sake. Not disrupting your sleep was the least he could do, no matter how much he wanted to see your smile and hear your voice. He consoled himself with the thought he would get to in the morning, and that wasn’t so far away now. 

He softly set his bag down in the hall and locked the door behind him, grunting as he sat down to take his shoes off. He took a deep breath, taking in the familiar smell of your home, of his home with you, as he let the persona of Adler slip away, and Russell return to the front, as he stowed his shoes in the rack, hung his jacket on the hook and tiptoed up the stairs to join you in the bedroom. 

You were sound asleep. You’d forgotten, or chosen not to draw down the black out blind, the thin curtains letting in dimmed streetlight, which lit the room in a soft glow. It showed you lounged out over the middle of the bed, snoring slightly, hair messy, one side of your face pressed into the pillow, and the collar of an oversized shirt poked out from the covers to lie on your shoulders. You had the covers from his side of the bed bunched up in your arms, like even your sleeping from knew something was missing and had sought a replacement for him. 

He smiled. He’d like to see you say you didn’t miss him that much now. 

He quickly changed into his own pyjamas and slid into bed next to you, gently teasing the covers free of your grasp, fighting to keep quiet as you confirmed his suspicion, hands instinctively reaching out, clumsily searching until they found him, and you settled, your sleep undisturbed as you continued snoring, now tucked in his arms. 

He smiled, slowly settling down next to you. He gently raised his hand to your neck, resting his figners on your pulse, taking deep slow breaths as he kidded himself that this would make his heart beat in sync with yours, before he felt the material of your shirt between your fingers. It was a nice shirt, which tracked for you, as you only slept in truly comfortable things… and, on closer inspection, he realised that it was one of his shirts.

One of his designer shirts. You were sleeping in one of his Ralph Lauren polos. 

Fuck, he loved you. Of course you’d steal his Ralph Laurens, just to sleep in them. That’s why they faded so fast. He wasn’t the only one using them. 

Maybe he should buy you some of your own, only you didn’t care about brands. You cared about two things: did it feel nice, and did it belong to Russell? If both questions returned a yes, then that shirt was yours now.

Ah, well. It’s not like Adler couldn’t afford more.

He tugged you closer as he closed his eyes, heart beat steady along side yours as he soon fell asleep at your side.

You could always tell when he was about to come back home. You never had a call or anything like that. No, you weren’t notified of anything ever, you just had a strange, inexplicable sixth sense, that told you clearer than a compass did true North, when your husband would be coming back to you.

On those days, you made sure you always got an early night, in a bed made up with fresh sheets, in soft, comfy clothes, all to make sure that you would have a good night’s sleep so that you could be up early in the morning to spend even more time with him, now that he’d come home.

Today was no exception. You’d gone to sleep cuddling your covers like most nights, and woken to Russell cuddling you. You were tempted to stay in bed, and just watch him sleep, with his limbs splayed out across the mattress, half in and half out of the covers, yet still with perfect hair; but you had things to do. His mouth was hanging open, so you kissed his forehead before quietly escaping the bed.

Once you were free from his arms, you darted across the carpeted floor to the door, which you closed behind you before tiptoeing down stairs to the kitchen to make a start on breakfast.

You opened the fridge and pulled out the preplanned bacon and eggs, setting them on the counter before lifting the frying pan down from the cupboard and setting it on the stove top to heat up. While you waited, you put an apron on over your pyjamas. It wouldn’t do to get grease spots on the nice shirt you’d borrowed.

You’d just cracked the second egg into the pan when you heard Russell’s footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.” He was smiling before he even saw you, following the smell of bacon to the kitchen like a dog floating along in a cartoon. 

He sat at the island and watched as you finished serving breakfast for both of you, and sat with him, bestowing a kiss on his cheek along with his plate. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you.” He kept smiling, twirling his fork in his hand as he watched you take your apron off. “Is that my shirt?”

“It might be.” You covered the offending logo with your hand. “It might be the neighbour’s.”

He grinned, stabbing his bacon on his fork. “It had better be mine.”

“Yeah… you’re right. It’s yours.” You sat, and immediately split the yolk of your egg. “I hope you don’t mind me wearing your expensive, designer shirts to bed.”

“Shirts? Plural?”

“Yes…” you winked at him. “What am I meant to do? Go to bed naked?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, it’s not like you could do that…”

“I’m glad we agree.” You smiled, and took a mouthful of egg before you dug yourself in further. 

“Oh? We’ve agreed, have we?”

“You don’t want me wearing your clothes?” You pouted at him.

“I…” He sighed, then laughed. “It’s too early for me to deal with you like this. Yes. I like seeing you in my clothes. You can wear them whenever you want.”

“Okay.” You smiled again. “I love you.”

It hadn’t been too surprising that your skills from your ‘old career’ had rarely come in useful in your new job, working for the Department of Defence. You’d had to declare it, sure, but it hadn’t ever gotten in your way or stopped you. Even now, it was kind of doing the opposite.

There was an operation. An agent needed to gain access to a high value target, and the plan was to send one to infiltrate an establishment that he frequented. It was the only solution, your supervisor had told you, as it was the only place he ever went regularly. It was the only solution, and it was a strip club.

By the reason of there not being anyone else to be ahead of you, your name had shot to the top of the list. With a bit of remedial field agent training, it would have been right up your alley – except for one issue.

The strip club was all male; and there was no way, not with all the will in the world or everything the CIA had up its sleeve, that you were ever going to pass as male with only a pair of speedos on. 

So, the inevitable next idea was for you to teach one of the male agents how to be a stripper, in seven days. Did they not mention that deadline already?

You had a week to turn a (probably) uptight, insecure-in-his-masculinity, would-take-offence-at-even-being-implied-to-be-gay, man into a world class stripper.

That amazing idea was how you’d gotten here, in a private pole studio, with late afternoon turning to evening, as you watched your student struggle to do something as ridiculously basic as to sit on the pole.

You would be the first to admit you weren’t a great teacher. But it wasn’t like your student was trying to be a star either.

You wished you knew how Adler got himself here. It’s unlikely he’d volunteered, you’d reasoned, as though he had way too much American oorah zeal to be insecure of his sexuality, he still had a healthy bucket of masculine shame about doing something ‘women were meant to do’. That left him being drawn by the short straw, or he’d been picked out and ordered.

If it was the latter, he was a good pick, objectively speaking. You’d seen that in how he carried himself. He knew both that he was a capable operative, and that he was attractive. If you couldn’t appreciate how sexually appealing you were, you’d never get anywhere doing this. As long as he could use that knowledge to his advantage, this plan actually stood half a chance at working. Or it would, if he would get that stupid, sexy ass off the ground and apply what you were teaching him.

“For the last time…” You groaned, watching as he stumbled after failing to get up on the pole again. “You don’t move. The pole moves. You get on, and hold your position. You don’t need any momentum.”

“It’s not that easy.” He turned back to face you, tugging his shorts down because they’d ridden up again, drawing the hems down towards the visible tan line on the middle of his thighs. That was going to have to be sorted out, too.

“You aren’t trying.” You snapped. “Get on with it, sit on the pole.”

He grunted, and turned back to the pole, grasping it tight and leaping onto it. He tried to sit with his hips straight again, neglecting your repeated instruction to tilt his hips to help his thighs grip the pole. As a result, he slid down, skin squeaking against the metal, before he panicked and fell… again.  

“How are…” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. At this rate, he wouldn’t even make it to being a shit fire fighter, let alone a pole dancer. “You had this nailed five minutes ago. What is this?”

“I told you, that was luck.” He dropped his arms to his side. “Can you show me again?”

“Fine.” You brushed him aside, and easily leapt onto the second pole, hips tilted, ankles crossed, ensuring you were secure before you let go of the pole with your hands and leant back, as the pole span you around to face him. “Look away.”

“Right…” He nodded, getting up off the floor and staring at you, at how your thighs gripped the pole.

After several moments, he moved back to his pole and effortlessly replicated it. He clutched the metal tight, before slowly letting go and spreading his arms wide to prove he’d done it properly. Finally, improvement. By doing the most basic thing you could, besides standing next to the damn thing, but progress is progress, you reminded yourself.

“See? You’ve got it.” You dropped down to the floor easily. “No beginner’s luck to be seen.”

“Right.” He followed suit, less gracefully than you. “I’ll seduce him by sitting there like a lemon.”

“A sexy lemon.”

He didn’t laugh, instead he leapt onto the pole again, nailing the sit again.

“Look at you… You’ve come so far after crunching your balls this morning.” You said, but it had taken most of the day to get here. You’d seen beginners make pick up more in an hour than he had in a day.

“Right.” He winced at your reminder, looking at the clock. “I’ve got a week to perfect this.”

“That’s six more days.” You waved your hand dismissively. “One more demonstration, and you’ll be done for the day.”

He sighed gladly, dropping back down to sit on the floor in front of the mirror.

“You better be paying attention.” You pointed a finger at him. “You’ll know how to do all of this, before you go to Georgia.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You’ll fall flat on your face, he will get away, the mission will fail, and you’ll probably die.” You counted off on your fingers, before grasping the pole and preparing to run a short routine.

First, you span yourself around it, one hand holding the bar, one foot planted on the floor as your body orbited the pole. Then, you hooked one of your knees around it, raising yourself up, grasping the pole with two hands as you leant out, moving your hands down as you leaned out further as the pole span, carrying you around.

When you were at the lowest you could go, with your chest arching out, you let go with your legs, swinging your legs out before you pulled yourself up, flexing your core as you swung your body up over your head, ankles crossing behind the pole as you held yourself up, turning again. Once he was out of your view again, you let your legs down and you walked back off the pole, slowly drawing yourself up to your full height, before looking back at yourself in the mirror.

You wished you’d worn heels to do this. It would have completed the look, and heightened the effect even more. Plus, it would further humiliate his incompetence, that you were doing it in heels. 

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you looked back at him and realised, the cheeky fucker’s been enjoying the free show. That’s why he’s not achieving anything; he’s been too busy being a lusty bastard more interested in watching you, than learning.

Now, what could you do about that… You swayed your hips as you thought. Part of Adler’s task would be to get the target alone, so he’d have to do a bit more than just be on the pole… it was time for you to show him the ‘Advanced Techniques’.

You walked towards him slowly, as his face titled up, eyes tracked on your chest. You snapped your fingers in front of his face, smiling as he blinked rapidly and tried to shake himself out of it.

“Play time’s over, don’t you think?” You murmured, raising a leg and knocking him back with one of your feet.

You didn’t kick him hard, but he still went sprawling on his back. He struggled up on his elbow as you advanced on him, walking up between his legs, before decidedly placing a foot either side of his hips.

His breath quickened as he looked up at you. “What…”

“I don’t like your attitude, Adler.” You snapped, reaching up to tug your loose cover top off, throwing it aside. “I reckon I oughta fuck it out of you… for the good of the mission.”

He groaned as you dropped into his lap, sitting on his dick, half hard and barely contained in his shorts, with your knees bent at his side.

“I’m sorry.” He stuttered. “You’re just so…”

“You know my normal job is in HR, right?” You hissed, squeezing your legs around his hips. He moaned, whether because of that, or the forbidden HR rules you were actively throwing out of the window.

Either way, it was beautiful. “Do you think that kind of behaviour is appropriate? In the work place, no less…”

He moaned again, as your hand came to rest on his stomach, dragging through his body hair, pushing his shirt up to his chest.

“It’s a good thing the target likes men hairy… It would be a shame to wax all of this.”

His cock twitched under your cunt, the movement evident even through his boxers, his shorts, and your shorts and your knickers. How delicious…

“What… part of the lesson is this?” He whispered.

“Advanced techniques.” You planted your hands on his abs and pressed your pussy down harder. “Call it that.”

He groaned again. “Please, I’m sorry. I’ll do it properly now. No more messing around.”

“That’s good…” You smiled, then looked down at his erection. The head of his cock had broken out of the waistband of his shorts, like it was ready for you. “But you can’t get on the pole with this…”

You poked the exposed head, delighting in how his body shuddered in response.

“We’ll have to sort it our first…”

“Please, I’ll do any—thing!” He grunted sharply, interrupting himself as you took the head of his dick in your palm.

“Wise words.”

You smiled, and tugged his shorts down, leaning up on one of your legs to give you room to do so. He sprung free, standing tall and proud, hard in your hands as you stroked him, still balanced up on one leg as you tugged the gusset of your underwear and shorts aside, and slowly sat on it. He’d seen enough of you already; he didn’t deserve that.

He moaned like being put inside your pussy had relieved him from being in a massive amount of pain, as you sunk further and further onto him, sighing contentedly as he filled you. Not the best dick you’ve had, but certainly adequate, you noted for your report.

He smacked the floor, trying to ground himself and get his head back in order as your covered ass met his thighs, the last half an inch of his dick cruelly kept out of you by the bunch of material you were hold aside.

You weren’t joining him in being bereft. The bunched material of your shorts wrinkled at the perfect angle to roll right against your clit as you rode him, watching him with a slight, professional smile as he fell apart. It’s a good thing the mission only required seduction, and not him getting his dick wet, because it would be a train wreck if he did.

He struggled to keep his eyes open to watch you ride him, mouth hanging open as he panted and moaned, until he stuttered, you think he was saying he was coming. You let him, then quickly lifted off his lap, letting your pants and shorts settle back into place. He looks disappointed; as if you’d let him feel you come.

“Oh, no.” You leant over him. “Only good students get good pussy.”

He grunted as he tried, tucking himself away as you clapped your hands.

“Right… Enough of all that.” You leaned back on the mirror as you felt him seep out of you. “Try it again.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He sprung up and practically ran to the pole, easily leaping up to sit on it, the spinning poles turning his flushed face back to you.

“Good.” You smiled. “Tomorrow, we’ll get you actually doing some real moves.”

“If…” He swallowed and dropped back to the floor as you began to gather your things. “If I’m good…”

“Oh?” You paused packing your bag, fighting back your smile.

“If I’m good… may I…”

You’d be here all night if you waited for him to finish asking. Instead, you tossed your bag on your shoulder and headed to the door. “You may, if you behave.”

When Mason and Woods heard about all of the things Bell had never gotten to do, they were determined to rectify it once they got them stateside. They’d take a week out, actually use some of their holiday entitlement, getting Hudson off their backs about not using it, and take a trip south to hit some of the big ones all together in a grand road trip adventure.

Bell had taken to the idea well, excited to expand their horizons of the world that they were now free from the influence of both Perseus and Adler. In what some would call a mistake, he’d left the itinerary entirely in Mason and Woods’ hands, but as this was the first time Bell was really dealing with them on their own accord, they’d tried to play it straight for him.

Tried being the operative word. They’d all stayed together in Woods’ old apartment the night before they’d set off, and a couple of ill-advised whiskeys later, they’d ended up in bed together – all of them, Bell included, the whiskey making him sing like a bird, and sleep like the dead. That was, until Mason woke him and Woods up at the crack of dawn to get them all moving, ever the morning, ‘we need to leave early to beat the traffic’ person, as he chivvied the two of them into the car for a trip that now had a not very secret secondary purpose.

They were going to give Bell some new experiences yes, but they were also going to really explore just how exactly the three of them could fit together and enjoy being a trio, given the imminent threat of them being split up as Mason went back home to his kid, while Woods and Bell stayed with the CIA.

The threat was looming, but thoughts like that were for the end of the week.

Today was about pulling up to the Burger town drive through and getting Bell the largest combo meal that had, plus an extra drink, plus a milkshake, and plus dessert too, so they could get the full range of experience of good fast food, and so understand why Woods had been so devastated at Bubby’s presence in the soviet bunker.

By the end of the meal, Woods was pretty sure Bell was addicted to milkshakes, as he finished not only his own, but two thirds of Mason’s, the scuffle over which Woods made sure to get on camera before calming Mason down and sending him to scout the back of the building for security cameras and slacking employees.

There were none, so Bell and Woods joined him, leaving the three of them tucked out of sight from any other patrons as Bell and Mason fought over Woods’ cock, before abandoning him all together to tackle each other to the floor. At first, they appeared to be fighting, until Bell got his dick inside Mason and started to fuck him, all while keeping his own mouth open, his tongue hanging out for Woods to rub the head of his dick on, as another camera flash captured the moment for the album.

A second later, Bell choked on Woods’ come, eye flickering closed so he didn’t see Woods took another snap and signalled to Mason.

Mason took advantage, and rolled Bell over so he was in charge, and riding Bell’s cock instead. Woods watched, amused as Bell struggled with his own pleasure; still coughing as he came in Mason’s ass. He had to be helped off the ground and back to the car, limping despite not having been the one with a cock in his ass – at least, then. He’d had one in there last night.

Mason drove the next segment, as Woods lounged in the back seat with Bell, both eating snacks by the bag despite having had a hefty lunch already. Woods was poorly teaching Bell the lyrics to all of the songs on the radio, and Mason suspected it was being intentionally done so for his benefit, as both Woods and Bell cawed the wrong line from a song.

Thankfully, it didn’t last too long, as Woods reported that they were out of snacks, and needed to pull off at the gas station that was in five miles and resupply. Mason shook his head, but stayed thankful that they hadn’t found his hidden emergency stash in the glove box.

After they parked up at the pump and got out of the car, Bell trailed around with wide eyes.

“This place is massive.” 

“It’s not that big.” Mason slammed the driver’s door as he headed around to the pump. “I’ll see you guys inside.”

“Come on.” Woods knocked Bell’s shoulder and led him into the convenance section, Bell still as wide eyed as a kid in a toy store.

“This is ridiculous. This place has no business being this big.” Bell stopped in front of a display covered in gas station branded caps and hoodies. “Why are there clothes here? It’s not like we’re in an airport.”

“We’re sure not.” Woods grinned, grabbing one of the caps and sticking it on Bell’s head. Bell huffed, but didn’t put it back as they followed Woods to restock their snacks. They moved quickly, and before long they were paying up at the front, and asking where they could find the bathrooms.

They were in the back, and the pair of them tried to look inconspicuous as they headed there. Luckily, the bathroom was deserted, allowing them to take the end stall together. Bell’s back hit the wall as Woods shoved his jeans down and kissed him, not taking much time before he was pushing his cock into Bell’s ass. Bell scrabbled at the stall wall with one hand, and clutched their new hat with the other, as the outer door opened and Mason joined them.

He took his time getting involved, and first made sure to lean in the door and take a photo of the pair. Once that was secure, he squeezed in to join them, mirroring Woods’ actions to Bell back onto him, tugging Woods’ jeans down over his ass and sliding his cock into him. Woods’ brashness folded like a wet paper towel under the dual sources of pleasure. Mason and Bell had to hold him up as his knees gave, making the most of the situation by kissing over his shoulder, before pulling out and using tissue to clean him up when they were all done. 

To his credit, Woods recovered quickly, and carried the bag of snacks back to the car himself, incidentally covering up his ruined shirt as they piled back into the car and pulled back onto the road, before anyone said anything.

That night, they pulled up to an off-season campsite, parked, and hiked out to a distant pitch, raising their tent up under the stars. With the minimal supervision from the camp owners, Mason put his survival skills together to make a fire and taught Bell how to make smores. Bell sighed in delight at the sugary sweet treat, as Mason recalled his youth in the boy scouts, and Woods tried to hide that he was on the Bell end of the spectrum when it came to camping and smores.

He hid it badly, as when Mason turned their attention to the stars and pointed out various constellations, Woods asked more questions than Bell. It ended with them all laid back, cuddled together, staring at the night sky, until Mason slid his hands into Woods and Bell’s trousers, slowly stroking them as he realised that even a good fuck paled in comparison of the jewels in the heavens above. The both returned the favour, before bedding down in the tent, as after an early start and a busy day, they were all out quickly, ready for the second day.

The next day they got off late, rolling slower down the highway, also known as at, rather than over, the speed limit; until an unfortunate sound came from under the hood. 

Mason lifted it to have a look, fiddling a bit before coming back and declaring that they’d have to wait for a tow. Inevitably, the idea of how to pass the time came up, and before long, Bell and Woods had Mason spread out between them on the back seat, Woods cock in his ass, and Bell’s in his mouth, groaning as they ruined him, as Bell whined about how unfair it was that the position meant Woods still got to jerk Mason off.

To make up for it, Woods let Bell take the pictures, posing like he and Mason were on a bad porno cover, making Mason laugh as he watched, before he got his, with his swollen lips, and come covered stomach. Woods was about to suggest that one of them walk out for an SOS phone, only for Mason to sit up and say that actually, the car was fine. Woods would’ve hit him if he wasn’t so pretty when he was fucked out. Instead, he left Mason in Bell’s lap and took over driving, continuing down the I-95. 

At long last, they reached the beaches, and checked in at the hotel before hitting the sand. It wasn’t as busy as they’d thought it would be, and they definitely looked like a lost trio from a bachelor party – little did everyone else know. 

It was a glorious sun filled afternoon, full of swimming, sandcastles, and ice cream, that ended with the sun setting, and Woods building a bonfire to stave off the wind chill, as the three of them finally got down to what this week was really about: sandwiching Bell between them and getting both of their dicks in his hole. 

It reduced Bell to a quivering mess, clinging to Mason’s neck as he sobbed into his shoulder, as Woods cooed in his ear, stroking his hip as he and Mason stilled so Bell could adjust. He hiccupped, tilting his head back, both men groaning when his tears shone in the firelight, and Bell swallowed, saying that they could start moving. 

They did, slowly as Bell moaned, throwing his head back again so hard it collided it with Woods’. Neither of them felt the knock, as Woods started to fuck him faster, and Mason chased to keep up, metaphorically tearing Bell open. 

He came first out the three of them, clutching at Mason’s neck with one hand, grabbing Woods’ hand on his hip with the other. His ungodly cry absolutely spooked away any nearby nightlife as Mason and Woods chased each other to the end, kissing Bell’s cheeks as they did at the same time, both forced from of Bell’s ass as their combined cum leaked out of him.

After Woods’ stoked the fire back to life, they settled on their towel and sat Bell up between them, looking out into the bay again.

Bell looped his arms around their necks. “You know what the best bit about all of this is?”

“What?” Mason murmured.

“That this is only day two. We’ve still got a whole week to go.”

High school reunions. What fun. Fuck whoever came up with them, because it was subsequently their fault that you were sat in the parking lot of a random event hall you and Woods had lucked your way into finding after throwing out the obviously incorrect directions, peering anxiously out of the car’s windshield to see if there were any signs that your shitty, shitty high school ex had made it to the party before you.

“Hey.” Frank placed his hand on your thigh as you twisted in your seat, staring at the cars parked around you. “He’s probably not even here. He’s too good to be slumming it with all of us schmucks, anyway.”

You laughed, but the anxiety at seeing your ex refused to budge. It was stupid; it had been twenty years since you left high school and even longer since you’d broken up with Adler. You were all adults now. This was one night. Like Woods said, he might not even show up, and even if he did, you’d say an awkward hello and avoid each other’s company for the rest of the night at most. Adler had to have matured out of his ‘I have a rich daddy so I can do whatever I want and everyone else has to just put up with it’ persona. He must have.

“We don’t have to go, if you really don’t want to.” Woods murmured, squeezing your leg again. “I can catch up with Mason and Hudson another time.”

“No… it’s fine. Let’s go.” You opened your door decisively and got out, looking around for Adler to pop up from between the cars like a bad jump scare.

He didn’t, and you breathed a sigh of relief, despite yourself. You turned to take Frank’s hand as he joined you, the car beeping behind of you as he locked it, and the two of you walked towards the door that was propped open under the weathered ‘20th Reunion: Providence High’ banner. You recognised the guy on the door, who was crossing people off as they entered, and you were just about to greet him, when a car screeched into the parking lot, lingering in the middle of the lane as the driver revved the engine.

“Is that a… Maclaren?” Jensen, your old lab partner asked, as the three of you paused to look at it.

“I don’t know.” You looped your arm through Frank’s. You had a sinking feeling you knew who the driver was, if not the car’s make and model.

“Whatever it is, it’s ugly.” Woods sniffed, squeezing your arm tight.

“That’s true enough.” Jensen chuckled, and struck both of your names off the list. “Good to see you guys, head on in.”

“You too.” You said, before Woods tugged you quickly inside.

After the dramatic entrance in the ugly car, you were surprised that Adler didn’t approach you immediately. He loitered around for a while, doing the rounds to catch up with his old football lads, and you tried to ignore him at first. Soon though, it became apparent that he was choosing to join groups that were a couple over from yours, to keep an eye on you.

He waited until Mason had pulled out the eight picture of his kid for everyone in your little group to coo over.

“Hey, guys.” Adler looked around at your little gathering, his money visibly dripping off him in the designer brands he was wearing.

Hudson and Mason greeted him back, Woods tightened his hand in yours, and you took a sip of your drink. An awkward silence followed, until Mason cleared his throat and pressed the picture into your hand.

“So, this was David in his sixth-grade play. He’s the sheriff, over here on the left…”

“Oh, he’s darling…” You squinted at the image, and the bean sprout kid on the end of the line that had Alex’s ears. “He got his growth spurts early, then?”

“Yeah…”

“He got that from you.” Woods nudged Mason’s side, as you passed the photo around.

“What about your little ones?” You turned to Jason. “Any plays?”

“No…” He shook his head. “Mine are into all things sports.”

“Really? What kind?” Woods asked, suddenly interested as Adler looked annoyed that no one was asking him anything.

“He does swimming, she’s into football. Both in High School, themselves, now.”

“Her school does football?” You sipped your drink, feeling desperately aware that Adler was staring at you, and Woods was getting more annoyed by the second.

“Well…” Hudson sighed. “Not yet. She’s in a private club for the moment, and we’re helping her take it up with the school.”

“Good on you.” Mason knocked his arm. “Our kids need us in their corners.”

“So… How are you all finding the night? I comped the bar.” Adler interjected again. He addressed the group at large; but he was still looking at you.

“Good, good. Nice touch, buying the booze to get people to like you.” Mason ribbed. Adler ignored it.

You set your cup down, the drink suddenly sour in your mouth as Woods lay his arm over your shoulder.

“What’re you doing these days that lets you afford that?” He asked, passing you his water instead.

“Investment banking.” Adler replied, shaking his sleeve back to reveal a probably very expensive watch. He held it out in your direction. “What do you think?”

“Oh, cool.” You barely glanced at it. “Frank, do you have a light?”

“Oh? Yeah… one sec.” He dug his lighter out of his pocket and gave it to you. “I suppose you don’t have any of your own cigs, either?”

“No… sorry.” You smiled already peeling away from the table towards the fire doors propped open at the back of the hall. Thank god, Frank got your meaning immediately.

“What are you like…” Woods trailed after you, waving back to the rest of the group as you left. “We’ll be back in a bit.”

Mason and Hudson waved back, but Adler just stared at you. He couldn’t follow you so openly, and your escape had annoyed him.

“What a prick.” You muttered as you exited the hall into the dark evening. Woods offered his pack to you. “Oh, no thanks.”

“Figured.” He took one for himself, and held your hand after he’d lit it. “He hasn’t changed, has he?”

You shook your head. “I’m surprised he wasn’t more forward with it.”

Woods exhaled smoke into the air. “Yeah. Glad of it, though.”

“Oh, yeah.” You leaned against his side as you sighed. “Why’d he even bother coming?”

“Dunno.”

“Probably going to follow us out here, soon. No way he’s given up smoking, too.”

“True.” Woods tapped the ash off with his thumb. “So, how do we use that information against him?”

“What?”

“Adler’s going to be out here shortly, doing his peacock, look at what you could have had thing. What better way to disarm it than to put on a little show, and let him see what he could’ve had, if he wasn’t such an asshole?”

“Frank Woods…. You are a bad man.” You plucked the cigarette from his fingers and crushed it under your heel. “And I love it.”

He grinned and dragged you in for a kiss, before the two of you stumbled away from the light let out from the door and into a shadowy corner, as Woods tugged your jeans down around your thighs, fingering your pussy as he cradled your body against his. Your jacket was long enough to cover all of your newly exposed skin, so you were neither ass out to the world, or dealing with the cold, as he tweaked your clit.

You were keeping an eye on the door, as while you weren’t exposed, it was still obvious what was going on, and you didn’t want to subject someone other than Adler to this little show by accident.

You got lucky, or unlucky, as it were, that the next person to come out of the door was indeed Adler. He came out as if on cue when Woods pushed his dick into you, with his own pack of cigs in hand, trying to look around without it looking like he was searching for something. You looked away from him, going back to your husband as Frank rolled his hips, sinking his dick deeper into you. The movement caused the flies of each of your jeans to tangle together as you kissed again, the thrill of immediate discovery egging you both on.

Woods’ hands were tight on your bare hips, and yours on his shoulders. You gasped softly when he pulled back from the kiss, your mouth hanging open as his eyes flickered between your eyes and your mouth, his own face soft and full of his love for you.

“Oh, there you – oh.” Adler’s bravado vanished like a popped balloon the second he realised what the two of you were doing.

“Hey. Mind giving us five?” Woods glanced up at him as you hid your face in his neck. He managed to keep his voice level, even as your pussy squeezed around him.

“Uh… yeah. Sorry.” He stood a second longer, looking a trashy idiot in all his brands, before he turned back inside.

You muffled your shock in Woods’ jacket collar. “Did he just…”

“Apologise? I think he did.” Woods rolled his hips more forcefully, jostling you up. You groaned. “Serves him right, for ogling another man’s wife like that. And, harassing an individual who had already firmly rejected his advances.”

You smiled, cupping his face in your hands. “I think I can be ‘your wife’ for this example.”

“Hell yeah.” Woods kissed you again, open mouth melding with yours as you shuddered and came, your pussy dragging him over the edge just afterwards.

After only a moment of relaxation, Woods exhaled sharply and pulled out of you, tucking himself away before pulling your jeans back up. “You’re not going to walk funny, are you?”

“Me? Please.” You pushed yourself off the wall and took a tentative step. You were fine. “I’ve got it. No one but him will know what we were doing.”

“I mean… They’ll suspect. We had a rep in high school.”

You hit his chest. “Frank!”

“Well, we did.”

“Only in senior year, and only half true… because of him.”

“Yeah…” Woods slung his arm around your shoulder as he steered you back inside. “But they don’t know that.”

That made you laugh, as you crossed back across the hall to Hudson and Mason. If either of them suspected anything, they were polite enough to not bring it up. They looked almost as relieved as you were to have shed Adler’s company, as Mason showed you the photos he’d pried out of Hudson’s wallet, showing his two kids giving it their all at their respective sports.

You accepted another drink, and took the opportunity to glance around surreptitiously.

Adler was hanging his head in the corner, nursing a drink and not talking anyone. Finally. It had only taken twenty years, but it seemed he had finally got the message. You turned back and took the photos, and relaxed as you heard all about the hopeful future quarterback of women’s football.

Later, as the party was wrapping up, you and Frank said your goodbyes and made to leave. Just as the pair of you stepped outside, you saw Adler again, getting into his ugly car that he’d parked across two accessibility bays. He paused and looked at you. He saw you smiling, with yours and Woods’ arms around each other. Then he scowled, got into his car and tore off, the engine whining as he made it race out of the lot.

“What a loser.” Woods commented as the spell broke, and the two of you walked back to your own car.

“I think he needs to get his engine looked at.”

“I thought you didn’t know anything about cars.”

“I don’t.” You opened the passenger side door and slid into your seat, as Woods got into the drivers.

He didn’t start the engine straight away, instead looking at you, as you continued to smile.

“Are you glad we came?”

Adler woke, covered in sweat again. The images of his dream lingered heavily on his mind; the same one he’d had every night for the past week. An inescapable darkness, that had a tight hold on his body, wrapping around it, holding him in all parts, bordering on painful, but managing to just not be as it filled him up; and over all of it, the confusing overture of pleasure as it whispered in his ear. His rational mind processed the words, and liked them, setting his consciousness in a dog fight against his hind brain as it begged him to pay attention, and be afraid.

He shook his head and swallowed, wincing at how hard it was with his dry mouth. The hotel room around him was still dark, the curtains drawn tight but thin, so any daylight would have shown through. He’d unplugged the alarm clock as soon as he’d got in, and he’d stretched the budget out to book rooms in a place with thick enough walls that he couldn’t hear his neighbours. What had woken him?

The phone.

Like someone had unmuted the TV, the pealing ring of his handset crashed into his ears, his visions of the night fleeing as he connected tangibly with reality by picking up it and answering the call.

“Adler.”

“It’s Park.” Her voice was crisply displeased. Obviously, he’d kept her waiting too long. “You need get down here immediately. Something’s… wrong with them.”

“Fine.” Adler grunted and hung up. What the fuck was the problem now?

He got up and dressed quickly, hurrying out of the hotel and down to his car, pulling out of the lot and onto the road towards the lab. It was the middle of the night. What could be such an issue that it couldn’t wait until a reasonable hour of the morning?

His car display blinked, telling him that it was just after two am. Why was Park still in the lab? She’d spent all day moaning about how she was still jetlagged from the flight, Adler had assumed she’d left back to the hotel early. He hit the dashboard, angrily cursing himself that he hadn’t asked for more details before hanging up. Maybe then, the lingering malaise of his dreams wouldn’t hang so heavy on his mind.

It had been years since Adler had woken with his dick wanting something so much. It simultaneously scared him, that whatever this obscured thing was attracted him so, and thrilled him with the lingering idea that this unknown thing was something inhuman, something forbidden under the known laws of the universe.

He shook his head again as he pulled up to the security checkpoint, flashing his face to the guard before being waved on through. Enough of his fantasies. He had to turn his mind to the matter at hand.

Park met him at the bottom of the elevator, holding a steaming cup of coffee. Adler was surprised she handed it to him. Maybe this actually was serious.

“What are we looking at?”

“Well… we’re not sure.” She led him into the observation room, and Adler first glanced through the two-way mirror into the room where the prisoner lay. It was still there, cuffed in to its hospital bed, the monitors beeping like they should. Nothing out of the ordinary, at a glance.

Park cleared her throat and directed his attention towards the other wall, where a bulletin board was covered in the various reports and status updates that had come from the project. The object for current concern were the progress pictures of the prisoner’s wounds.

“What is this?” Alder pointed at the last one, where there were none. The previous photo had only been taken a day earlier, if the dates were to be believed. If they were accurate… what they were showing just wasn’t possible.

“It’s exactly what it looks like.” Park walked past him. “Yesterday, they were covered in week old wounds, slowly on the mend. Today, nothing. Not even a scar.”

“That’s…”

“Impossible, yes.” She glanced towards the window, where the subject was still apparently sleeping peacefully. “That’s not all… some of the team have been reporting strange…”

“Dreams?” Adler filled in, as he turned to stare at whatever was lying in that bed.

“Yes…” Park looked closely at him. “A strange darkness, voices whispering about their doom in the void… have you been getting them, too?”

“Something like that.” Adler sipped his coffee again. “It’s… is it even human?”

“What else could they bed?” Park stood next to him. “An alien… a secret weapon… who knows.”

Adler shook his head, and turned to properly look at her. Park was exhausted. Her eyes were bloodshot, twitching even, with dark bags sunken underneath them. That’s what this was. She was sleep deprived and not thinking straight.

“Park, when did you last get any sleep?”

“I can’t.” She whispered. “The dreams come when I try.”

“Well… go back to the hotel and try again. I’ll sort whatever this is out.”

“On your head be it.” She said, but she quickly got out of there, leaving the door slamming heavily behind her.

Adler sighed, setting the coffee down and glancing at the board behind him. Whatever this was, there would be a rational explanation. The dreams were either a coincidence or stress. His dreams sounded nothing like the others, after all. The person in there was flesh and blood, and he would prove it.

He opened the door into the testing room and crossed to the prisoner’s bedside. Their limbs were cuffed and further bodily restrained, which Adler checked before he looked closer at their broad browed face, eyes closed, as they inhaled and exhaled softly. Deeply asleep, a product of the cocktail of drugs being streamlined into their body by the IV drip in their arm, by all appearances. The heart monitor continued to beep steadily, like nothing was wrong.

Adler took a deep breath and put his hand out to touch their cheek.

Their skin was cold to the touch. Adler flexed his hand, and pressed it harder against their forehead.

Their eyes opened, and his world turned upside down.

Adler blinked, and realised he was on his back. His eyes were swimming from his hard landing, though he didn’t recall falling. Up on the bed, the cuffs were pinging open one by one, and the prisoner was rising up. Adler coughed, and tried to stand, only to hear a familiar voice to rumbling in the back of his mind, telling him to lie still.

He did so, because it was the voice from his dreams.

Adler knew he saw the prisoner get up from the bed. He knew he saw them shed human form, discard their human skin and return to some kind of primordial entity, made of black tentacles, amassed in a humanoid-like form, but he would never be able to describe it in words. It just happened, and now the thing, whatever it was, was before him, as reality reshaped itself around it, around the thing that was cooing in the back of his mind that it was so excited to see him.

He opened his mouth, said he was glad to see it too, eyes wide as the form hovered over him, and consumed him.

“Hello, handsome.” The voice murmured in his mind, as soft tentacles scraped over his skin. Adler couldn’t recall when he’d lost his clothes, as he was too busy bathing in the sensation of the tentacles poking and prodding at every part of his body they found.

“Hi….” He mumbled back, voice impeded by the tentacle rolling over his face, the tip poking at his lips.

“You’re good for this, aren’t you…” It mumbled, more to itself than him. He didn’t respond, too busy gasping as he felt the tentacles roll over his asshole.

“What…” he murmured and tried to raise his hand, only to realise it was stretched out and tied down above his head. He couldn’t move it. 

He couldn’t move any of his limbs, or his body at all. His limbs were all bound in place, outstretched from his body, wrapped in tentacles, so tight it was almost sucking on his skin. They were wrapping around his torso now too, and pressing harder at his asshole, and dipping past his lips, if only barely.

It felt good. He shook in its hold, opening his mouth wide as the tentacle slid in, tangling with his tongue and he groaned as he felt the tentacles finally breach his asshole, squirming inside him like it was eating him, before pushing deeper. He could swear the first was quickly joined by a second, that wrapped together to form a thicker mass with which to fuck him, coiling against his prostate each time, as he sucked on the black tentacle in his mouth, choking as something latched onto his nipples, before the final one coiled around his dick like a cunt, and squeezed.

Adler’s eyes rolled back in his head as he surrendered his body to its hold, his mind reeling as he became unaware of time and space. He was only half aware of his fingers when they wrapped around the tentacles rubbing his palms in a comforting manner, as the entity milked his cock, over and over, the pleasure seemingly never ending up as his entire body became wreathed in eldritch mass. 

At some point he screamed. He cried, he swore, he abandoned the church his parents had baptised him into in the name of a new god, of Bell, the thing whispered in his mind, as it ate him, consumed him, took everything that he gave him, his sweat, his tears, his come, more and more and more, until it was satisfied.

When Adler was weak, it retreated. His body shook on the tile floor, cold and so very suddenly and terribly alone. He looked up at them, lip trembling with worry at being forsaken by his god, as the form reconstituted itself, with a new, stronger shape, imbued with the strength from his seed. 

“Thank you.” The form rumbled. “I can now go and fulfil my purpose.”

“What?” Adler’s voice cracked, his throat parched, chest shaking with cries that he had no tears for as the bipedal figure crossed to the door.

“To dominate, and erase mankind.”

“But… you… can’t.”

“It’s my purpose.” The figure turned back, and the place where a face should have been stared at him. “Do not worry little one…” 

A tentacle flicked out to catch the tears on bus cheeks, absorbing it like it had the others.

“I will spare my favourite disciple. We will meet again, Russell Adler.”

Adler could do nothing but sink back onto the tiles to wait, as the door swung open, and Bell vanished.