Trouble is a Friend (Halle/Lyle/Alle, RSA)

[rent_a_gundam]

Index/Timeline



When Alle gets done with winning the bet about implications that Halle only halfway made, and not in a giving-permission sort of way, Halle's waiting for him in the first alley he walks by. He smells his brother a split second before he sees Hallelujah, but it's not enough time to flee from Halle's absurd speed. (Even if it were enough time, Alle's not really sure he would have any desire to run, even when that malicious gleam in Halle's eye is meant for him and not someone else.)

Halle slams him up against a warehouse of some kind that makes up the border of one of the alley walls, and the smack of Allelujah's flesh on the metal exterior echoes up the grimy little alley.

"I won't fucking ask what you were thinking, cocksucker, because I know you weren't thinking with anything but your no fucking good cock, were you?" His voice is low, gravelly, fierce, and makes Alle shiver with want despite the fact that he just had a very satisfying orgasm.

Alle doesn't answer, because there's no right answer to that and it's probably not even a question anyway.

"Mindless little bitch."

Again, Alle shivers, and wonders if this is going to turn into actual punishment anytime soon. Insults and rough treatment are just Alle's cup of tea.

Then Halle punches him. Once, across his jaw and then in the stomach, which sees him doubled over and his knees going weak with the rush of pain. Rough treatment is one thing, but beatings are quite another.

Halle's hands cup either side of Alle's head, palms over his ears, and Alle knows what's coming even before Halle's knee smashes upward into Alle's face. Now that is going to leave a mark--a black eye, he guesses--and as much as he doesn't like his own pain he is hard at the idea that there will be a mark and he will walk around and people will be able to see on his face his exploits.

"Consider that a fucking warning," Halle hisses, while Alle's knees are busy giving out and depositing him on the ground. He delivers a kick to Alle's ribs for good measure, just short of hard enough to crack them.

Alle groans, eyes shut, shaking his head. He'd forgotten how much getting beat on hurt.

Shockingly Halle lets Alle get away with just laying there for a stretch. It could be five minutes or it could be twenty; that's just how the time passes. Halle looks intermittently at Alle and at their surroundings, or that's what he's doing when Alle manages to force his eyes open. Unkind fingers close around his shoulder and tangle in his hair, and Halle jerks Alle up to a sitting position. "Get up, you stupid bastard."

Why, Alle nearly asks, but he's no longer insensible. He gets up by small measures, to his knees to leaning against the metal warehouse to standing freely on his own.

Halle reaches out to steady him. "Come on, we're going to go keep an eye on your favorite fucktoy. See if his habits change now that he thinks the game's changed."

It sounds like as good of a plan as any, so Alle follows his brother.

◊

One minute Alle's shopping for groceries, looking at his watch to check how long he has before Halle will show up, the next Lyle's scent hits him like a ton of bricks.

It's not that Lyle wears a special cologne or anything. It's just the supersoldier genes, the nanomachines, that make him able to discern Lyle's scent even at a distance. He looks up and finds Lyle without fail.

Lyle doesn't look exactly like a deer in headlights, but that's just because Lyle's good at suppressing his own responses. And he smiles, like he's not bothered at all, which can only endear him to Alle even more.

On impulse, Alle leans over and presses a quick, chaste kiss to Lyle's lips. "Halle's not around."

The eyeing that Lyle gives him says that he's noticing the bruise; Alle's cock twitches. But Lyle doesn't comment on that; his stance says he's going to argue about whether he meant to ask about Halle or not. "I--"

"You were going to ask." Alle uses a Halle-tone, the kind that wins arguments. It's ill-fitting, but effective. Which reminds Alle: Halle will be looking for him in not very long. "So, we can drop everything and go back to your place and fuck like rabbits, or you can risk his anger in twenty minutes when he shows up to make sure I haven't fallen down a hole."

Lyle's decision is quick. "I think I'll take the fuck like rabbits option."

"Excellent choice. Neil will be home, but he's probably itching to meet us at this point, isn't he?"

"Yep," Lyle says, like his expression isn't already answering for him. "He should be in his room studying."

◊

"What?" Neil's not happy to be interrupted; Alle could have predicted that. "I'm in the middle of putting together a fucking bibliography."

Like it's an invitation, Lyle opens the door and slides a finger through a belt loop on Alle's jeans to pull him inside.

The resemblance between Lyle and Neil is really uncanny. They hold themselves similarly, but Neil's gaze has none of the ragged edges that Lyle's does. Neil will miss things; Lyle notices all of the important details. But Neil's not so ignorant and unobservive that he misses the fact that Lyle and Alle just got done fucking.

"So this is one of your new boyfriends?" Neil tilts his head, interested, and smiles. It's purer than Lyle's, somehow.

But the word catches Alle--boyfriends? Who is he kidding? He looks at Lyle, but all Lyle does is give that damn shit-eating grin. "Alle, this is my brother Neil. Neil, this is Alle."

Interesting that he doesn't use Allelujah's full name. Neil stands to shake hands, and Alle hesitates because shaking hands is a formal thing, like confirming things that he doesn't really want to confirm because Halle is going to fucking kill him. He decides to do it, though, and shakes hands like a fucking pro. "Pleased to meet you." Your brother is using you, just so you know.

"Likewise." Neil sits back down, and his computer chair squeaks as he leans back. "So is it you leaving Lyle all cut up, or the other one?"

Neil obviously doesn't think Alle's capable of giving pain; Alle welcomes the chance to shake up his worldview a little. "Both." And he gives a feral grin that would make Halle proud.

Neil moves, his chair squeaking, and looks at the ground. Good.

"Is that all?" The question is directed at Lyle.

Who shrugs, though he looks immensely pleased with himself, little shit that he is. "For now."

Right. Back to the grocery store, then; he hopes the frozen dinners haven't melted by now.

◊

"You didn't let him come," Halle says. He's outside of the grocery store when Alle walks up.

A lie would be fun, and maybe worth the punishment, but Halle would know it for a lie; he would smell Lyle's come in Alle, if Alle had let him get off. Besides that, it's not really a question. "Are you going to give me another black eye?"

Halle's grin says that he can think of much worse punishments than that.

"Taking that as a no." Alle's heart pounds a little; he's being so-- so uppity. Lyle's rubbing off on him. Not necessarily a bad thing, especially so long as Lyle holds Halle's interest. "Am I at least allowed to buy food for us first?"

Like a bolt, Halle pulls Alle into an alley. They don't move too, too fast, just on the limits of how quickly normal people can move. No sense in needlessly attracting attention.

Deft fingers tangle in Alle's hair, and Halle takes his time pulling Alle's head back by degrees. Bit by bit, until his back is arched and his head is level with his chest and his neck and torso are wonderfully vulnerable.

Halle sinks his teeth into Alle's skin. Into the side of his neck, his shoulder, the protrusion of his collar bone. His nipples. He doesn't break skin, but only just barely; he leaves raised bitemarks in his wake and little rings of fire and pain.

Alle struggles to stay quiet. He clenches his hands together and bites his lip bloody, but he still can't help the high whine when Halle's mouth reaches his nipples. "Oh god, Halle, I--"

"Shut up," Halle's voice is low and feral, a growl that is definitely classified as sexy.

But his words don't come with an insult attached; this isn't meant to be all pleasure. That fact is hammered home when Halle leaves him cold, slipping away and letting Alle sink to his knees there in the alley, panting and leaning against the wall.

Damn him, Alle thinks. And damn the fact that he left his shirt at Lyle's place; he'd been in such a hurry to get out of there he just plain hadn't bothered to go back down to the basement and fetch it after meeting Neil.

He touches one of the bitemarks on his shoulder gingerly, drawing in breath through his teeth at how sensitive it is when he does nothing more than brush his fingers over the raised skin of the bites.

Totally worth it, Allelujah thinks.

◊

Before they leave for their final encounter with Lyle, Halle makes Alle pack all of their possessions. They stash them under the Dylandy's back porch before they go up to give Lyle the culmination of their affections.

"Are you going to kill him?" Alle asks, although he knows that he shouldn't.

Halle just looks at Alle for long moments, pure contempt with no sexuality connected to it. If I was going to do that, it would be pretty fucking stupid for us to stow our shit under here, wouldn't it?

It's not a question meant to be answered; Alle just swallows and looks at the ground until Halle heads for the door.

◊

They've never played with anyone like this, over the long-term, so Alle's not a hundred percent sure how the end of this relationship is going to go. Normally they'd just kill the poor bastard, after a few days or even a week of foreplay.

But this guy... the situation's different. He is different, and Alle knows that Halle knows it.

That's how he convinces Halle to leave the note: "Can you honestly say that you never want to fuck him again?"

Halle's glare says that Alle is right, but Halle's not happy about Alle being right. "What do you fucking suggest, then?"

"We stay here a few more weeks. Let him heal, then fuck him up again." Alle doesn't let himself do anything to show exactly how much he wants this.

Naturally, Halle picks it up anyway. Maybe. Let's go.

What about the anticipation? Alle isn't sure he can make himself stay away from Lyle the whole time that he's healing, and telling Lyle that they'll be coming back is important for reasons he cannot name.

For long moments, Halle hesitates.

On the bed, Lyle groans softly. He'll wake up inside a minute.

Let's leave a note, Alle offers, quickly, glad for the excuse to use brainwaves so his mouth doesn't stumble over the words.

There's no time to choose words carefully. No time to do anything but scribble out the first words that come to mind, which is what they both do before going back down the stairs at lightning speed and picking up their shit.

In the mean time, they're going to have to find another squat and Halle's most likely going to make Allelujah do it, but for the moment Alle feels bright and glowing with joy.

They're staying; the thing with Lyle isn't over yet.

◊

Neil makes Lyle go to the hospital, but they don't do anything more than give him a Tetanus shot, a few stitches in the deepest part of the cut on his back, and some of the high-dose version of over-the-counter pain medication. Hospital computers are surprisingly easily to hack into.

"You're not actually taking that shit, are you?" Halle asks.

Alle watches from the kitchen; the two of them are in the living room.

Lyle doesn't startle, which gives him serious bonus points, and looks over at Halle with a casual sort of movement that screams I have all the time in the world and I don't mind wasting some on you. "Why would I?"

"The fact that your cocksucker brother is playing nursemaid isn't enough?"

At that, Lyle laughs. "Nothing new there; Neil's always playing nursemaid. Hadn't you noticed?"

Halle laughs, much longer than Lyle did; he and Alle have an in-joke about Neil playing caretaker. They place bets on how long it'll take Neil to start giving Lyle talks every time they hurt Lyle, and Alle has a bet with himself on how long it'll take Neil to stop worrying every time Lyle ends up bruised or cut up.

Eventually Halle does stop laughing. Alle can see Lyle's smirk, but not Halle's expression. "I thought you two weren't going to be back until I healed."

"Shows what you get for thinking." There's sneer in Halle's tone, and in his stance; Alle doesn't need to see his brother's expression.

Lyle crosses his arms over his chest, but there's a playful sort of slide to the movement, and that smirk is still seated firmly on his lips. "So nice of you to check up on me. I take it this was Alle's idea?"

Smart bastard. Halle doesn't miss a beat, though. "So you have two braincells to rub together after all. Congrats."

If it weren't for Halle's threat to do horrible things that Alle would actually not enjoy at all, Alle's pretty sure he would have jumped in right then and there. But Halle did make some pretty heavy duty, explicit threats so Alle stays put and leans on the counter a little, hoping it'll make noise. Naturally the damn thing doesn't cooperate, but whatever.

"So you're saying Alle's not somewhere watching this conversation?" Lyle's smile says that he knows he's right.

Halle looks over his shoulder, but permission is not in his face. It's a skepticism. "He got private time with you; now it's my turn."

"Doubtful," Lyle says coolly. "You haven't shown any inclination before for solo visits--not the way Alle has--so why would you start now?"

It's a dare.

Fuck off, Halle sends to Alle, with a little compulsion to make sure that Alle obeys. There's so much static between his ears that he doesn't hear whatever comment Halle makes to Lyle as Alle leaves.

He would have done what he was told anyway, no matter how much he wants to watch, but now he does it with just the slightest amount of resentment. It's not that he's bothered, it's just the principle of the damn thing.

Also maybe just a little the fact that Alle has to slink under the back porch and take care of his erection while straining to hear sounds from inside the house. But it's well-constructed, and nothing leaks through, or maybe Halle is just unusually quiet, or maybe they don't fuck.

Or maybe, or maybe... There's no way to really know for sure until Halle either comes out or lets Alle come back inside.

◊

When Halle leaves, he looks immensely satisfied with himself. There's a little blood on his shirt, and on his jeans, but it's just smears of it so he couldn't have hurt Lyle too bad.

As he reaches the bottom of the stairs and walks by where Alle's sitting, one hand shoots out and grabs Alle by the hair and casually drags him to the middle of their backyard. It's nothing but a collection of weeds cut to the same length, with some muddy areas that might be meant to be gardens, and a rusty old grill on a solid pole that's stuck in the ground. The kind they have at campgrounds. The grill leans to the right a little, but when Halle shakes it, it doesn't move very much. "Perfect."

Halle takes off his belt and forces Alle down to the ground, back against the pole, head bowed thanks to the height of the grill. "Hands behind your back."

Alle does what he's told, despite the fact that they're in the middle of the Dylandy's back yard. It's not the first time they've had sex in public, and it's highly unlikely that it will be the last. "Lyle--"

"Is none of your concern right now." The low tone of Halle's voice is dangerous.

Or rather an indicator of danger, just as much as the way Halle jerks Alle's arms back and wraps the belt around and around them and between them and finally buckles it. Alle struggles a little, not because he wants to get out but because Halle always wants to know that Alle couldn't get out of the bonds if he wanted to.

"What are you going to do? You forgot to take my shirt off." It's kind of risky, saying that, and Alle licks his lips nervously and does not meet Halle's eyes. Having to keep his head bowed makes that part easy, at least.

The shick of the knife flipping open and the soft click when it locks are answer enough. Halle is not gentle, either, and rakes the knife straight up Alle's stomach. It's only the tip, only enough to make a thin red line that's barely bleeding enough to bead and stream down by the time Halle's finished cutting the rest of Alle's shirt off.

Silence is normal, especially when they're in public; Alle bites his lip against a moan when Halle leans forward and licks from the bottom of the cut to Alle's right nipple. He pays careful attention to it, licking and sucking and biting, scraping his teeth, biting Alle's whole pec too, not hard enough to break skin but hard enough to leave marks.

Alle shudders in reaction, shoulders flexing forward, scraping his arms against the roughness of the solid steel pole. He wonders if Lyle can hear that anyway, if Lyle is watching. He's not facing the right direction to tell. "Halle--"

"Shh," Halle says, short and sharp, and bites the other pectoral. Alle groans, but halfway through remembers where they are and cuts it off into a mmmm. "Good."

It might be silly for Alle to feel such a burst of confidence and happiness at the simple praise, but he does anyway. Flying on clouds. He forgets about Lyle altogether and surrenders to the treatment, to Halle.

Who continues to tease with his mouth, cruel with his lack of mercy and his utter disregard for Alle's preferences. He sprinkles in just enough kindness, just enough encouragement and licks and the press of his mind is even better than the physical part.

If someone asked Alle to describe the feeling of being mentally pressed into submission, he's not sure that he could describe it. Mostly his brain goes a little limp when he thinks about it and he wants to roll over and show Halle his belly and do whatever it is that Halle wants.

Halle wants him to lift his hips right now, so he can pull off Alle's jeans. These ones are a little tight, but Alle likes the feeling of constriction. He likes the press, the presence, the--

Alle's articulation fails when Halle's lips wrap around his cock. His eyes roll back and he moans and he completely forgets about where they are, save for the fact that the pole is rough on his arms and his back and the grill is solid above his head.

But none of that matters. The only important thing is Halle's mouth. Halle's hands. Halle's body, laying on Alle's feet. Halle's mind, pressing harder the deeper that Alle falls into that place where the only thing left is yes.

Hot, wet. Slide. Glide. Moans. Arching, fingers digging. Sucking harder, moving faster. So hard to hold back, but he needs the order before he can come. Needs to hear it.

Come for me, Halle sends.

Alle does so nearly before the words are over, body convulsing with the orgasm. Halle's throat works around Alle's cock, swallowing it all down shamelessly, and Alle is out of it for a time.

He's not unconscious, not precisely, he's just... disconnected from his body. Floating. It's not his hands that Halle is untying, not his hands that Halle is rubbing, not his body that Halle guides to the ground, not his neck and lips that Halle kisses.

It is his cheek that Halle slaps, though. Pain does its job quite well and Alle snaps back into himself, and he is suddenly a little chilly. But Halle's offering his panties and jeans, so he puts them back on. "What about my shirt?"

Halle shrugs. "Going to go ask Lyle for one?"

His tone says that he disapproves, and Alle is still too close to sub-space to not take it as an order to stay away. "No. We going?"

"Yep."

At least Halle is nice enough to help Alle up and support him when Alle's knees nearly don't hold him.

"Don't be a little bitch," is what comes out, but all Alle hears is Halle's own particular way of saying I love you.

◊

Alle's in the dressing room of the strip club where he works at Halle's behest when Lyle finds him. How he knew to look here, Alle has no idea, except for maybe Lyle turning the tables on him. Or Halle letting it slip. It's not unusual for Halle to be in the audience, after all.

"Somebody here asking for you, Mark," one of the other strippers says, and jerks a thumb toward the door that leads backstage from the club.

Even before he gets there, he knows who it is. Halle never comes backstage and Alle's pretty sure that even if he did he'd get let through on the basis of looking exactly like Alle and people who are not Lyle having trouble telling them apart.

"Hey," he says, casual as casual can be in his white lace panties and nothing else. He has a maid outfit that goes over it, and will be putting it on right about the time he goes onstage. The fabric is cheap and thus scratchy and uncomfortable; he doesn't like wearing it while he waits.

Lyle leans against the door frame and looks Alle over, slow and careful. "Halle told me you'd be here."

That answers that, Alle supposes. He wonders if this is permission; he wonders if Halle's watching from some convenient hiding place or even from Alle's mind. He doesn't feel anything, but Halle can be a light touch when he wants to be. "You here to watch, or what?"

"Or what. How long until you go on?" Lyle leers a little.

For some reason his leer does things it shouldn't to Allelujah's cock. Only Halle should have that power, damn it. "Twenty minutes. I like to be early."

"Mmmm." Lyle leers more, like he's getting paid seven figures to do it.

Alle turns and heads backstage. There's another entrance to the hall with private rooms, and he'll have to pay for it but whatever, it's worth it. He hopes.

Lyle does not disappoint, slamming Alle against the wall as soon as they're through the door. Alle fights back, dropping down and punching Lyle in the gut. He might not like fighting, but he knows how to do it; Lyle is bent over for a long time, coughing, just breathing.

As soon as he's able, he's attacking Alle again, fists and feet and teeth. It's fun to fight back but then Lyle gets Alle pinned against the floor with his hands above his head and Lyle's weight pressing down against him and Alle doesn't want to fight anymore. He wants nothing more than to twist his body to where he can grind their hips together, so he does, hearing the delicate soft lace rip in the process.

Halle will buy more. His fault, anyway.

They're both panting, sweating, and Lyle is pressing a little too hard. Too sharp. But it's good. It's what Halle would do. The only thing lacking is the pressure in Alle's mind.

Maybe it's because of that lack that he doesn't go into sub-space. Maybe it's something else. Maybe it's just Lyle. Maybe it's-- anything. Alle groans at the roughness of Lyle's jeans and arches up against him as best he can, head back, eyes closed.

Lyle bites his neck. Once, and when Alle shivers, again.

He can come like this. Gladly. Easily. Lyle's hard too, but not urgent with it. Not needing the way Alle does. "Please," he whispers, soft but no less desperate for the lack of volume. "Please, Lyle. Tell me-- I need-- you have to tell me to, to come." He almost doesn't get the last word out and he almost chokes on it, chokes on having the gall to tell Lyle to do something.

"Oh? So I could send you out onstage like this, sweaty and ravaged and still needy? I think the audience would like that."

It was his intent all along, Alle realizes. The little shit. Such a... Alle's mind is still too pleasure-clogged to come up with a word cunning and vulgar enough to describe Lyle.

Lyle lets Alle up, and helps him stand. The panties aren't all the way torn off, but they're hanging on by a thread; if not for the elastic waistband they'd be on the ground. Alle touches it, shaking his head. "I could... mmm, mend it."

"Don't," Lyle says. Commands.

It's certainly going to make the number interesting, Alle thinks.

◊

His striptease is a rousing success if the bills stuffed in his panties are anything to go by. He has no idea if it's the hard cock sticking out the top of his panties or the smell of sex or the sweat or some combination of all of it, but he makes more than he ever has before.

After that he has to work the audience; Lyle waits patiently for his turn, and puts a hefty bill into Alle's panties. "How much more for the private room?"

Alle tells him; Lyle laughs. "Halle will pay it."

There is no doubt in Alle's mind that Lyle's statement is right on the money.

◊

In the room, Lyle sits on the couch that is there and lays his arms along the back as he spreads his legs. Such a delectable sprawl, Alle thinks as he goes to his knees and presses his face against Lyle's crotch.

Lyle tangles his fingers in Alle's hair and forces Alle's face to look upward. "Where do you and Halle stay?"

Alle wonders which he would get into more trouble for: the truth or a lie? He decides that the truth is at least less likely to have significant backlash; if Lyle was going to report them he'd have done it by now. "We're at one of the pay-by-the-week places."

"Mmm." He untangles his hand and rolls his hips. "Suck me; make sure I'm getting my money's worth.

Lyle's cock is easier to suck than Halle's, an inch or so smaller and not quite so girthy. It's easier to deep-throat, too, and Alle thinks that there's really nothing quite like the feeling of having his nose buried in pubes and his throat full of cock.

A hand laid gently on the back of his neck somehow makes it even better. Alle's gaze flickers up at Lyle, and Lyle smiles at him. The hand tightens, holding Alle there, pulling him back and forth just a little as Lyle rolls his hips in and out of Alle's mouth.

He doesn't let Alle breathe, and just about the time that Alle's vision starts to go dark around the edges he pulls out and rubs his cock all over Alle's face. "Do you even have a gag reflex?"

Alle shrugs as he gulps in breath. He's never had one; he's tried making himself throw up before and it didn't work no matter how he scraped his fingers on the back of his throat.

"Halle has one. Did you know that?"

Yes. Alle shrugs again, and Lyle slaps him for his trouble. The crack of flesh on flesh rings through Alle's mind, pulling him out of that floaty space before he reaches sub-space.

"I asked you a fucking question, whore. Answer it."

"Yes. He-- sometimes he sucks me." When he wants to humiliate me. Or put on a show. Or... some other reasons. One-time things.

Lyle's fingers tighten, forewarning for what he does next: pulling Alle's mouth back down his cock. It's deliciously tight, that pressure again, and by the next time that Lyle pulls Alle off, he's sub-space enough that he's only listening to Lyle for orders. The rest of the words float over him and he only hears tone, deep and dirty and gritty, accompanied by the heavy pant of his own breathing.

The next time, Lyle comes. "Ahhh," is all he says, in a growly sort of way, and he lets go of the back of Alle's neck. "Don't you dare swallow."

Alle doesn't swallow, instead opening his mouth so that Lyle can see. Lyle dips his fingers inside and brings them to his own lips, tasting. After that he leans forward and kisses Alle, slow and steady, until one or the other of them have swallowed all of the semen.

When Lyle's gone and Alle's finding something to put on that isn't ripped before he goes back out, Alle thinks that if Halle's kisses are teeth and aggression, Lyle's are bitter and full of challenge.

And furthermore, he likes them both.

◊

Later that day, Alle figures out that the knowledge does nothing as it is.

Well, no, that's not precisely true. It does something: it makes the bonds of Halle's possession of him chafe. After the second bickering match over nothing, Halle fucks Alle into sub-space. Nothing but Halle's cock and Halle's mind and Halle's will.

When he surfaces even-keel the next day, he decides that Halle's not the only one capable of payback.

Now he just has to find something that will pay Halle back enough that it'll be clear Alle's serious about this. About... about having a will of his own, sort of. Outside of what Halle wants; he wants to be what Lyle wants, too.

In more than a sexual way.

◊

The realization is like an icy bucket of water being dumped over his head every time he thinks about it. It's not natural to want someone other than Halle; it's not what... what he was made for. What he enjoys.

But he enjoys his time with Lyle, every single time. Whether or not he gets off. That should be a sign, right?

"Go see what the little fucker's up to," Halle tells him, one night after work.

Alle almost asks if Halle is coming too, but decides he doesn't want to put the idea there. The three of them haven't been together since the basement scene that Lyle's still healing from; giving him a rest is probably a good idea.

How Alle ends up laying on Lyle's bed, stretched out, face buried in the pillows that smell like Lyle, he-- well, no, he knows exactly how. But how Lyle sneaks up on him, he's not sure. Was he really that lost in scent?

"Fancy meeting you here."

Alle freezes first, then slowly rolls onto his back. He crosses his arms over his chest. "Yes, well." Lame, lame, lame.

"Getting more stalkerish, aren't you?" Lyle's smile perches unsteadily on his lips like a bird on a wire in the wind.

At a loss for a response, Alle just stares at him.

"Silent treatment?" Lyle walks over to the bed and sits at the head, scooting to the center to where his hip touches Alle's, and presses a kiss against Alle's lips.

The kiss isn't semen-bitter, but it is full of challenge. Full of daring Alle to talk, to say what he's thinking. "I-- um, well, Halle and I don't ever talk." Alle realizes belatedly that Lyle had no idea what he was thinking, so maybe the subject is kind of random.

But Lyle proves that he's an intelligent little shit: "So you're not used to putting things into words."

Alle nods. He touches Lyle's hair, wraps a lock around his fingers and twirls it slowly. It feels nice, almost safe. Dubiously safe as Halle's arms. "I want to pay Halle back."

"For what?" Lyle tilts his head, obviously interested but not so excited that he's stupid with it.

"Everything," is the absolute best answer Alle can come up with, because naming the things would take far too much time. And also trust, and he trusts Lyle but he's not sure he trusts Lyle just yet. This kind of talk feels even more dangerous than Halle in a bad mood.

Lyle touches Alle's hair, pushing it out of the way, and kisses his cheek beneath the hair. "I have an idea, but it's... well, it'll take some serious balls."

Alle can have serious balls, if that's what Lyle wants. "What do I have to do?"

"Move in here. You and he. Lasse moved out, and Lichty wanted a room that's not on the third floor. His old room's big enough for both of you."

And also right next to yours, Alle thinks. Convenient, that, but he's not sure he can find fault with it. If they're going to stay, they might as well stay with Lyle, and Halle will have six kinds of fit but Alle's pretty sure he'll do it in the end. If Lyle couches it the right way. "Just like that? Move in with you?"

Lyle shrugs. "You're spending so much time over here that you might as well be living with us."

"True," Alle says absently. Very true. But still...

"If you don't think you can handle it, that's fine."

It's like Lyle knows exactly what to say. Damn him. Alle sighs. "Okay. Do we have to sign a lease?"

"Yeah, but Neil's your landlord." He flashes a brilliant smile. "If rent's late, you can always just have Halle fuck him into submission."

No, Alle thinks. He doesn't care for the idea of Neil being fucked by anyone: Halle, himself, or Lyle. "Or not. When should we move stuff?"

Lyle's lips press into a thin line, thought evident on his face. "When's a time that Halle's occupied?"

"Nothing predictable." Alle knows for a fact that Halle doesn't do anything in a predictable manner, because he's a paranoid bastard. If assholes can't predict where you are, assholes can't fuck with you. And assholes who are following you are more noticeable. "I'll... I can call you next time I think he'll be out for a couple hours, and we can move our stuff then?"

"Sounds good," Lyle says, in a tone that adds as good as it gets.

But there is nothing that Alle can do about Halle's paranoia. The fact that Alle and Lyle spend as much time alone together as they do probably drives Halle bonkers to begin with, so trying to not make him suspicious would be both an exercise in futility and a damn good way to make sure that Halle does notice that something's up.

Alle is fairly sure that Lyle knows that already, so he says nothing and draws Lyle into a kiss. "Now can we fuck?" he breathes, when the kiss is over and Lyle straddling his lap and their foreheads pressed together.

Lyle's answer is an emphatic yes.

◊

Alle's not stupid enough to think that this is something he can sit on; the longer he waits, the higher the chance that Halle will find out.

So when Halle tells Alle to go spy on the little shit the very next day and says that he'll join Alle an unspecified later on, the very first thing Alle does once Halle leaves is pick the disposable cell phone he bought yesterday and give Lyle a call.

"Talk," Lyle says when he picks up.

"Now or never," Alle says quickly, words coming out a rush. "We going to get this show on the road?"

Lyle doesn't miss a beat, because he's Lyle, a fact that Allelujah is really beginning to love about him. "How far away are you guys staying?"

"Less than a mile." Halle judged it to be a safe distance, mostly from the fact that nobody in Dylandy house owned cars and it's the opposite direction from campus.

He and Halle own one, of course; they took it along with the title and access to funds when they knocked off the drug dealer who owned it, one country, two cities, and hundreds of miles ago. Halle hardly ever takes the car when he goes out on his jaunts sans Alle, probably because he's doing things that are either skating the line of legality or illegal outright.

"You have a car." Not a question. "How much stuff do you have to move?"

"It'll only take one trip." Their clothes were pretty much their only possessions; Alle kept collecting books, but Halle kept making him leave them behind. If they owned more than they could carry, they owned too damn much, according to Halle. "Just make sure the room's ready."

Alle can practically hear Lyle's smile: "Aye-aye cap'n. See you soon."

They have two duffel bags and it takes Alle less than a half-hour to fill them; he thinks about being careful with it, but there's no way to tell how long or short a time Halle will be out. He takes them out at the same time and throws them in the back seat and gets the hell out of there.

As he's starting the car, Alle does not reach out to Halle with brainwaves. It would be a possibly fatal mistake at this point. He thinks about calling Lyle again, but if Halle's finished what he was doing and gone to watch Lyle it might tip him off.

Then again, if Halle's finished what he was doing and gone to watch Lyle, Alle's fucked anyway. He takes in a few deep breaths and lets them out slowly. Only a mile, and then only a half-hour and everything will be unpacked. They'll be fine.

Much to Alle's surprise, Lyle is not nervous at all when Alle arrives. He even stops to give Alle a kiss before taking one of the duffel bags--Alle's, actually--and leading Alle through the back gate and into the back door, where the stairs are.

It's almost anticlimactic; they get to the top of the second flight of stairs, Lyle shows him Lichty's room, and they throw the duffel bags down on the empty space under the window. "Lasse's bed is in the basement; we can bring it up now, if you want. It's a full; you'll both fit in it."

Having everything set up will give Halle that much less reason to turn against Alle and Lyle, so Alle says, "Probably a good idea." They spend the next five minutes (Alle checks his watch three times) taking the frame and mattress all the way from the basement to the third floor of Casa Dylandy.

Assembling the frame is pathetically easy but also time-consuming; twenty minutes have passed since Alle arrived by the time he finishes. It's the type that doesn't use a boxsprings, which is just as well, because bringing that upstairs would take another five minutes. It's made of rigid metal, and doesn't squeak at all when Lyle sits down on it.

Alle is far, far too nervous to sit down.

"You two don't have sheets, do you?" The tilt of Lyle's smile says that he finds Alle's excess of nerves amusing.

"Of course not," Alle snaps, and catches himself, and takes a breath. "Sorry, no, we don't. Do you have some extra? We'll buy some of our own later." He hopes.

Lyle does, and they spend another five minutes putting the sheets on the bed. They've just finished adding a blanket on top when someone knocks on the door.

Alle goes rigid all over, even if Halle would never knock. And possibly not even use the door. He looks at Lyle, and Lyle grins widely. "Come in, Lichty."

Lichty reminds Alle of a mouse for some reason. Shy but with teeth. Maybe it's the hair; maybe it's the way his handshake is just as firm as Halle's, but he's obviously a little on edge. "So, Lasse left his dresser, but it's a behemoth; we're not going to get it up here with fewer than four people."

"I can take one end," Alle says quickly. He doesn't want to explain supersoldier strength. "As long as you two get the other."

Naturally Lichty looks skeptical, but he shrugs and turns back toward the stairs. "Your funeral."

The first thing that Alle thinks on seeing the dresser is: Lichty wasn't kidding. The second: Halle's going to love the mirrors. They are a few inches shy of the ceiling, and other than the space between them they run the length of the dresser--which runs the whole length of the wall. Alle takes the mirrors off with the assistance of a screwdriver, and he and Lyle haul the mirrors up before going back down to tackle the dresser itself.

Alle's not had much occasion to use his abnormal strength for the purpose of lifting and moving furniture, so he doesn't have much of a control to work from, but he's fairly sure the dresser is heavier than the majority of things he could carry. He's not even sure he could carry it by himself, even if he could balance it on his shoulders or something.

They have a scary moment between the landing and the door, when they're trying to maneuver the damn thing, but nothing happens aside from a few scrapes and a pinched finger. The wall in Lichty's old room--that is, in the Haptism room--is longer than the wall in Lasse's room so they have an easier time of fitting it.

Somehow Alle gets so wrapped up in the task of moving the dresser, reattaching the mirrors, and unpacking their clothes into it, that he forgets to look at his watch for forty-five minutes. An hour and forty minutes since Halle left, he thinks; Halle's rarely gone for longer than three hours, and usually more like two. Add another half-hour for how long it'll take him to get here walking...

"We good?" Lyle asks, laying on the bed. Hands clasped behind his head as he stretches out on the bed, feet crossed.

"I think we are." Alle smiles, though nervously. He touches the laptop that was in the duffel absently; their only possession that's worth much. After another moment of hesitation, he sits down on the foot of the bed, straddling the corner. Not facing Lyle.

The mattress springs creak as Lyle moves, placing one hand on Alle's shoulder. "Hey. What are you afraid of? He'd never kill you."

As true as that might be, there are a number of things that Halle can do that do not include killing but are more miserable than being dead. Of all people, Halle knows that death is an easy way out of suffering. "Yeah. I just. What do you think he'll do?"

Lyle leans against Alle's back, and his arms go around Alle's shoulders as his face nuzzles Alle's hair. "I don't know, but I do know that he cares about you too much to hurt you beyond repair."

Cares too much... Alle licks his lips. "If you say so."

"I do." Lyle bites Alle's ear.

But all Alle can feel in his gut is that twisting feeling of dread. He swallows hard and turns his face away, closing his eyes. "Sorry, I--really not in the mood right now." Not to mention that Halle finding them fucking without him on top of the moving-in thing would be incredibly stupid.

Lyle gets it, though. "Let's go watch TV, then. I think National Geographic has the Predator/Prey marathon today."

Without meaning to, Alle laughs.

◊

The first warning Allelujah gets is Halle's scent; the next second Halle's in Alle's lap, his hands around Alle's throat, thumbs pressing against his windpipe. What the fuck makes you think you're going to be getting away with this?

Lichty and Neil both move to get up, but Lyle beats them to the punch. "Go to Neil's room," he says, in a tone that doesn't allow argument. They obey, and then it's just the three of them on the couch.

Halle presses a little harder. Answer me.

I didn't, Alle sends, and can't keep the desperation out of his mental voice. I swear, I--

You fucking idiot. What happens when we skip town? Aloud, he adds, "These are witnesses. Think about that." And he gives Alle a little shake and then pulls away and climbs off of him.

Alle is too busy just breathing to really process what's happening, but Lyle is there anyway, ready to do what's been choked out of Alle. "Witnesses to what?"

Halle glares, but his glare can't do anything to Lyle aside from make him hard. Which it does; the scent of arousal joins Alle's fear and Halle's anger. The glare takes on a more feral air, and Halle's lips spread into a slow, savage smile.

"They probably wouldn't appreciate you fucking Alle here," Lyle points out, but his tone says that is what he wants.

So Halle doesn't give it to him, of course. He jerks Alle up off the couch with one hand and grabs Lyle's wrist with the other, and they go up the stairs nearly at supersoldier speed. The springs on the secondhand mattress creak in protest when Halle throws Alle down on the bed, growling out a low Stay, with brainwaves to make sure he does as he's told, before manhandling Lyle over to the dresser.

He bends Lyle over without ceremony and pulls his jeans and briefs down one-handed; the other is gripping the back of Lyle's neck, keeping his face against the stained wood of the top of the dresser. There'll probably be an impression in the dust that Alle didn't get a chance to clean.

"Fuck," Lyle groans as Halle pushes into him.

Alle's been fucked like that. No prep. Halle's cock is big enough to make it hurt, to make it feel like he's getting fucked within an inch of his life. He mourns Lyle's lack of brainwaves; they can't share the sensation between them.

The only thing Alle can do is sit on the bed and watch Lyle pant and squirm and push back against Halle's brutal fucking. Brutal pace, brutal everything, slamming Lyle up against the dresser over and over. The dresser shakes with the impact, scraping against the wall, and the mirrors shudder, but it's solidly built; nothing comes crashing down.

Halle is like a machine. A beautiful, horrible machine. It's easier to see it now than it was before; all Lyle has to do is provoke every time Halle lets up, and Halle gets rougher again. Automatic. He wonders if Halle knows; he wonders if Halle cares.

Alle does not, however, wonder if Lyle knows. Lyle does. He has it all worked out. Some grand scheme in his head, that ends with him plus the two best sex partners in his life. Sex on tap. Alle nearly laughs at the realization, but bites his lip at the last moment.

Lyle comes then, groaning louder, eyes sliding shut as his body goes limp.

Halle fucks him straight through it, and comes too within the next few seconds, not quite as loud as Lyle but still loud enough. He stills, panting, leaning over Lyle, and whispers something in Lyle's ear. Lyle's mouth closes, and he licks his lips, and he squirms his backside. "You'll have to let me up first."

Halle laughs at that, the kind of laugh that sends shudders down Alle's spine. Is it his turn now? Or will he be left out, as punishment? What is the punishment even going to be? Alle knows that Halle would never let him get off without consequence.

But Halle doesn't seem bent on punishment as he slaps Lyle's ass and pulls out and uses the tail of Lyle's shirt to wipe his cock off. Still doesn't seem full of the same ire from earlier when he joins Alle on the bed; sex has sated him. A little.

Thank God. Alle licks his lips and crawls over at Halle's beckon. He can't help looking over at Lyle, who is licking semen off of his fingers. Collected from the dresser, no doubt; Alle is really starting to get the idea that Lyle likes come-eating. Or maybe it's just an oral fixation.

Don't get distracted, Halle sends, and presses Alle back against the bed. He strips both himself and Alle with ruthless efficiency and sets to work, straddling Alle's stomach and reaching down with both hands to pinch Alle's nipples. Pinch and twist, making Alle whimper at the pain and try to get away.

But it's no use; Halle's thighs trap him where he is. Lyle's no help either, for all that he's on the bed now, laying down with his face near Alle's. Halle reaches back and squeezes Alle's cock, then reaches lower and rubs over that place behind his balls. His entire body jerks in response, and he moans without meaning to.

"Such a slut," Halle says, but with affection.

Lyle agrees, and leans forward to kiss Alle. Bitterness and challenge, Alle thinks, cupping one hand around the back of Lyle's neck, under his hair.

Alle doesn't really get what's happening until he feels Halle move. They all move, then, and Lyle lays on bottom with Alle kneeling above him, face to face; Halle pushes two fingers into Alle's ass. Alle shudders, moaning while Halle uses his other hand to press Alle's shoulders down until Alle kisses Lyle.

There's no challenge in Lyle's kisses this time, just casualness and affection. He feels it as clearly as if it were coming across with brainwaves.

This isn't punishment, Alle thinks, but it's a far-off thought, disconnected from the scene at hand. This is exactly what he and Lyle want, exactly what they'd ask for if they got half a chance.

Halle's fingers dig into Alle's lower back and Alle breaks the kiss, arching, although he's not sure if he's trying to get away or get more. Lyle reaches up and pulls Alle back down, but Alle has trouble kissing; Halle's pushing his cock inside of Alle now.

"Mindless little bitch," Halle says warmly and slaps something. Not Alle. Probably Lyle; Lyle's leg. Whatever it is, it's a command, because one of Lyle's hands go down and wrap around Alle's cock.

Alle shudders, muscles going loose for a moment. It's a damn good thing he's already on his knees and elbows. Lyle laughs into the kiss, a short, triumphant sound followed by the tightening of his hand.

It's only then that Halle begins to fuck Alle. Slow strokes at first, gentle to what seems like an extreme. But it all makes sense when Halle sends a command: Ask for it.

"Please," Alle breathes into Lyle's mouth. Lyle's hand slides around to Alle's throat and pushes him up enough to where Halle can hear him, not completely choking him but definitely restricting his air. Pressure. Just the right amount.

Ask, Halle says, at the same time that Lyle gives his own encouragement: "Go on and do it."

Alle draws strength from their incentive. "Please. Please, please, please."

This time Halle's not going to make him say exactly what it is he's asking for, which is just as well because Alle has no clue what he really wants. Just this to continue, probably.

Halle to fuck him to completion.

Lyle to not let up.

They give it to him, now he's asked. Halle is not merciless; he is careful and kind in a way that Alle hadn't credited to him. He's still Halle, though, and right as Alle hits his orgasm he leans over and sinks his teeth into Alle's shoulder.

Pain drives him right over the edge, and Alle comes all over Lyle's hand. Halle doesn't let up on the bite for a long while, holding on like a cat as he continues to fuck Alle. Slower, but still going, in and out, in and out. Alle can feel his body going loose in reaction, complete submission, and of course it only spurs Halle on, makes him go faster.

When he does pull away at last, Alle can feel where he bit clear as day. Lyle's fingers over the skin feel like he's scraping fingernails or something, the area's so oversensitive. And still Halle fucks him; Alle can feel him getting close, feel the pleasure mounting.

At the last moment, Halle pulls out and comes on Alle's back. The first shot hits the bite--probably what Halle was aiming for--and the rest splatter over his back. The scent of semen is strong in the air, and Lyle's already busy cleaning his hand.

"Oral fixation or semen fixation?" Alle asks, his voice soft and far-off.

Lyle shoves his fingers in Alle's mouth. "Both, but more the latter than the former."

"Get your ass up here and clean his back," Halle growls.

"Make me," Lyle says, all taunt and glee.

Alle gets to the side just in time for Halle to tackle Lyle. The two of them grapple, and Alle has to hand it to Lyle: given that he started from a laying position, he's doing pretty fucking good. But Halle has practice on his side, and it's not long before Halle's shoving Lyle's face against Alle's back.

In the mirrors, Alle watches as the first bit just gets smeared around Lyle's face. Halle twists Lyle's arm a little more and orders him to lick it, and this time when he shoves Lyle's head down it's mostly tongue on Alle's skin. It's not so bad on his lower and mid back, but the second Lyle's tongue touches the area near the bite--which is raised and dark red, some cross between a lovebite and a true bitemark--Alle shudders and moans. Not happily.

Lyle laughs against Alle's oversensitive skin, and Halle sneers. "Finish it."

Instead of doing what he's told, Lyle bites down right on top of Halle's mark. Alle's entire fucking body tenses in reaction and he swallows the displeased moan because suddenly his throat doesn't want to work.

Halle pushes Lyle away, but it's too late; Lyle's broken flesh and his mouth is red and there's blood smeared over Alle's shoulder. Fucking hell, Alle thinks. Halle wants to say something so badly that Alle can just about taste it, but for some reason he doesn't. Just stays quiet and glares at Lyle.

Who looks pleased with himself. "You didn't honestly think you were going to keep him all for yourself, did you?"

Both yes and no are not answers that Halle would want to give. "You're not staying in our fucking bedroom."

Lyle grins. "That's acceptable. Any other stipulations?"

It doesn't take Halle very long to come up with one: "The first fucking time cops show up at the door, we're gone."

"Then you'd better not do anything to make the cops decide they want to come around, then." Lyle's expression says he knows that he's skating a thin line and that he belongs right on that line no matter what Halle wants or thinks.

And for some fucking reason, Halle lets him get away with it.

For now, anyway.