House of the Depraved

"What's the third rule?" It was Alex. His voice shook Jayce out of his reverie. Camden was steadily meeting Lane's gaze. He gave no sign that he even heard Alex. Frustrated, Alex made as if to repeat his question but was cut short as Camden lifted a solitary finger in Alex's direction. Wait. Camden had not lifted his eyes from Lane, his lips turned up at the corners hinting at humor. His dark eyes were cooler and veiled but no less intense. An inky black strand had fallen across his temple but he didn't ebrush it away, nor did he pull down his silencing finger directed at Alex. And then it was over. Lane either saw something in his gaze that satisfied her, or didn't, regardless she acquiesced with a lift of her chin to him and downed her glass of wine.

Camden lowered his hand then and turned to his own cup. His wine was empty so he grabbed his water glass and chewed on some ice, eyes turned on Alex, smiling faintly, taking his sweet time before responding. Jayce was literally sitting on the edge of his seat, eyes pinned on Camden. Lane had leaned back and crossed her legs demurely, but he could see she was no less involved.

Camden finished the last of the ice in the glass, peering within and rattling the empty cup before slamming it down resoundingly. "Again, keep in mind, I'm just the messenger. This is what was told to me if I wanted to bring a group to the House, and I swore I'd tell y'all word for word." He paused and met each of their gazes in turn before continuing. "Rule 3: No one goes alone. The House of Depraved cannot be found liable for what occurs to the solitary soul found within."

Stunned looks flickered across all the faces at the table. "Not liable?" Alex began, shaking his head.

"But...why?" Jaime's brow was furrowed.

"Found?" Lane whispered so softly only Jayce could hear. "By whom?"

Logan was rubbing the back of his sunburned neck slowly and Whitney's lips were parted just a bit as if she was about to say something but could not quite find the first word.

"What the....hell....happens to someone who's alone in there?" Jayce lifted his eyes to Camden's. His voice sounded thicker than usual in his ears, hoarse.

Camden was the only one of the group sitting easy. He was slouched back in his seat, munching on some ice he'd emptied from Jaime's cup while she was preoccupied. He smiled genially at Jayce as he rolled his shoulders back. "They wouldn't say. No matter how graciously I'd ask."

Another pervasive silence descended on the table. Each rule was weirder and more obscure than the last. Was this Camden's idea of a practical joke? No, Camden never played jokes like this. The more absurd the idea, the more dead serious he was and this was no different. Jayce had lived with the kid long enough to tell hat Camden was judging each at the table by their reactions and taking amusement in overwhelming befuddlement. That wolfish smile was forever playing just beneath the surface. "You know you're intrigued," Camden insinuated. His eyes were on Jayce, but the words were directed at the group.

"Well," Logan stretched languidly, a lazy smile on his lips. "I'm in."

"So am I," Alex leaned over and affectionately ruffled Logan's shaggy dirty-blonde mane. Holding the big cowboy in a head lock he turned back to Camden. "You had me at depraved."

To the surprise of Jayce, Whitney spoke up next. "I'm still thinking this is Camden's idea of a hoax. But worse comes to worse, if this thing turns out to be real, I think it's something that I need to see."

"Do you now?" Alex flashed an intrigued grin.

"I have my reasons," she said simply.

Camden leaned over the table and gave Whitney's hand a tight squeeze with a smile. He turned his gaze on Jaime. "Darlin'?"

"Why Cam," She teased, giving his knee an affectionate squeeze. "I'd follow you to hell and back. Didn't you know that?"

"I never doubted." He leaned in and kissed her chastely on the lips.

"Could be you're going to do just that," Jayce grinned at Jaime.

She shrugged, smiling sweetly in her silence. Jayce could feel Camden's expectant gaze. With a satirical half-smile, Jayce lifted a silencing finger in his direction and turned to Lane. "Whatcha thinkin' Laney?"

"I'm thinking he's insane and the rest of you might be just as bad," She said through a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Was that apprehension in her eyes? He couldn't tell, he'd never seen that look before. The girl had always been cool and understated in her emotions.

"I'm only going to do this if you're in. You know that," Jayce said lifting her chin his hazy grey eyes meeting her pools of iridescent blue. The wine had made him bolder. He was overwhelmed by a fierce affection for this girl at his side and really didn't care who knew at this point.

"Oh! Thanks for not putting pressure on me," she groaned as she slapped his shoulder again. By all accounts, the girl just loved abusing him.

"Good work, Jayce!" Jaime cooed.

"Lane," Alex leaned in a bit, his voice perfectly reasonable. "I'm sure whoever we find in there is no more depraved than us. They might even switch them out in favor of us to get more of an authentic feel."

"Won't be the same without you," Whitney chided. "You know how it is when there's too many boys."

"Surely YOU do, Whitney" Logan said chuckling as she shoved him hard but ineffectually which only made him laugh harder.

Lane's eyes hadn't lifted from Jayce's. He could see her searching his grey depths. He was unwavering and cocky from the wine. "I think we'd both learn something," he whispered, touching his thumb to his lips and then hers. "About ourselves, about each other, about these nutjobs at the table here. I think it's something we'd regret not doing."

The steely resolve in her eyes broke like the sun behind morning clouds. She seemed genuinely touched by his gesture. She grazed the backs of her fingers against his cheek fondly before turning back to the assembled. "I don't suppose I ever really had an option," Her eyes shifted to Camden and her smile was faint. "You sir, you're a snake and you know it. You ever hear the word 'no'?"

"Often and incessantly," He'd stolen Jaime's hand and was nibbling at her fingers playfully before she swatted him. "I'm just patient enough to wait until they turn to 'yes'."

Lane let loose a resigned sigh. "Whatever comes of this, comes."

The table erupted in cheers and laughter. Jayce wrapped his arms around her shoulders and hugged the slender girl tight against him. "I'm trusting you on this more than I'm trusting Cam buddy," Lane whispered against in his ear. "Don't let me down now."

Camden ordered the waiter to bring out the champagne. With a resounding pop and overflowing bubbly he poured everyone a glass. He called for a toast and the table lifted their glasses. With the content smile of the cat who fell in the cream, he nodded a bit. "I chose y'all for this, 'cause I knew if anyone would have the guts to give this a try it would be you six." He paused, taking stock. "Y'all didn't let me down. To us."

"To us." Our glasses clinked together, a crystalline keen followed by a comfortable silence at the table. The group was remarkably well composed considering how drunk everyone must have been at the time. The excitement was palpable but restrained, for whatever reason, but it wasn't apprehension or anticipation so much as simple camaraderie between friends who'd set a unique joint course and felt closer than ever as result. Jayce's smiles came easy, and the alcohol had put him in a good mood. And yet...and yet at the back of his mind, not even he could shake the notion, that people entering a suicide pact probably felt the same way at the time.

***

The walk back to campus was serene under the star-filled sky. Jayce was drunk, but he'd never felt so alive or in the moment as he did then. Lane and him had fallen back from the main pack. They were up ahead, the 5 walking arm in arm and loudly singing some old Bobby Darin croon number. How they all knew the words Jayce could never say. It often seemed that these friends of his were enigmas.

The scent of fall was thick in the air, but it was nothing compared to the sweet scent of Lane's perfume which left him unable to think of anything beyond her. The girl was at his side, his hand snaked around her waist, hers around his; he loved how she fit so snugly by him; like she was meant to be there.

Then, all of a sudden, she nipped playfully at his ear. For Jayce that was the final straw. He was done waiting.

With his arm snaked about her waist he spun her. Drunk, she almost stumbled, her hair flying across her face, her blue eyes almost comically wide in surprise. Before she had a chance to react he pressed his body tight against her, looming taller than her, feeling the surprise gasp of her breath against his neck as her back smacked hard against the adobe wall of the empty storefront behind her. He crushed his lips against her, thinking of all the moments he'd been near her, dying, dying to do this very thing. She tasted sweeter than he could have imagined; cherry intermingling with champagne residue on her lips. He wanted to taste her soul. He could feel her heart racing through the black silk of her dress, and the press of her fingertips along his upper arms.

To his surprise, she immediately returned the kiss, her lips feverishly pressed to his as she held his face close. His hands ran up her hips and sides and played along the outer curve of her breasts, searching... finding...intertwining with her spaghetti straps sliding them down the silken line of her arms. Her fingertips worked deftly. Before he knew it she'd loosened his tie and had undone most of the buttons of his shirt. He couldn't get enough of her. No matter how hard he kissed her, no matter how much of her he could touch, see, smell, taste, it wasn't enough and it was driving him crazy. He was desperate. His bulging manhood was a rock, spurred by the feel and grind of her thigh. Her body was arched so sinuously; a painfully erotic posture. Their lips were frenzy. She'd break the kiss for a moment, desperately trying to catch her breath, moaning uncontrollably from the feel of his hands over her breasts and his fingers toying with her nipples. Then he wouldn't be able to take it anymore, and he'd be smashing is lips against hers once more; needing to taste her, unable to go more than a second without it.

Then she was trying to murmur something and she was pressing her hands against his chest, and he wasn't comprehending, and she said it again. But all he heard was his heart pounding in his ears, and his eyes were unable to focus on anything but her lips. They were a breath's length away, but for all he could tell it was an eternity; an endless yawning gap of space. She held his face before her, blue eyes intense, her expression was painfully earnest. She mouthed the words slow making sure he understood: "Behind you."

Jayce spun around. He didn't see anything at first. Apparently the rest of their friends had gone on ahead. It was silent; the street was dimly lit by streetlamps and the storefronts were dead. Then he heard a muffled high-pitch chuckle and he saw it: a group of 4 or 5 guys conversing under a distant streetlamp, feigning disinterest in Jayce and Lane and failing miserably. And over the other way, hiding behind a bush he could see a hand and the excited murmurs of kids trying to be quiet for fear of being caught. He shook his head. Apparently they were the evening's entertainment. He caught their reflection in the bank window then and saw how ragged they must've looked. He noticed her lipstick had smeared over his lips and cheeks and his tie was askance and loosely hanging from my neck like a lanyard. His white button-down was hanging slack from his shoulders and was ripped in a couple places. He looked to Lane and she blushed and shrugged a bit. "Sorry, Jayce."

Using the collar of his shirt he dabbed at the lipstick along his cheek, and ran a hand through his tussled dark hair. No use. The aftertaste of her lips continued to play sweetly on his tongue and mind. A ghost of a smile played on his lips. "It's alright. Just didn't realize we had an audience."

Her expression was momentarily pensive. She was chewing on her bottom lip. Then impulsively she grabbed his hand. "C'mon." He could only grab hold as she led him back down the road towards the dorms. He was caught off and stumbled along some broken bottles as she pulled him and he fell dragging her down on top of him. "Just hold on, ok?" She giggled helping him to his feet, gently brushing the dirt from his shoulders. And then she was pulling him once more, leaving him to try to keep his footing. The rest of the trip back to her dorm room was a blur.

Jayce was dizzy and the room was spinning by the time they got in; dazed from the alcohol and the thrill of this dizzying brunette. He only caught glimpses of the room. The lava lamp cast a purple sheen on everything and the incense burning against the window sill added a woodsy pine aroma. He'd sat down on the bed for a moment to regain his bearings, but the second she shut the door, she was on him and he was awash in her presence: lost in her eyes and entranced by her lips. Her fair skin glowed purple in the light, his tanner flesh showing up darker. The dizziness was gone just like that, dispersed replaced by a different kind of lightheadedness, the kind of light-headed he'd get when she was near. There was nothing else in the world but this girl before him.

Easing him flat on his back, she straddled him smoothly, shaking her hair out of her face as she leaned in and kissed him hard. His hands found purchase along her slender thighs beneath her skirt and ran higher; causing her to draw in a sharp intake of breath; as satisfying a sound as he'd ever want to hear. Spurred on by this sweet girl before him, he pulled her already moist panties down, a pink frilly number that he would've killed to see her in, but was even more pleased to see her out of. He traced along the outside of her wet pussy and she moaned slowly. He could tell she was struggling to lift her dress away, distracted by the play of his fingers along her slit. It was tremendously entertaining to toy with her like this.

With considerable effort she finally successfully lifted the dress over her head, revealing the matching frilly pink bra and taut, beautiful pale white flesh. Her body was amazing: slender, with just the right hint of a curve at her hips and breasts, and flawless too, unblemished except for a tiny tattoo of a butterfly on her hip, now revealed by the lack of a dress and panties. What surprised him was the golden cross dangling around her neck. God, was he finger fucking a Catholic girl? That was an idea he could warm to.

Then her hands were at his shirt, undoing the final buttons and he helped her slide it off his shoulders, and the wife-beater as well. He saw her fingertips trace the muscled sinew of his abdomen and along his chest. Muscles earned from an almost unhealthy dedication to the club rugby he played. She seemed transfixed by his body, eyes tracing every line, every cord, every muscle. Her hands glowed pale against his dark flesh, and grazed a trail of lingering warmth wherever they passed over. Then they descended down to his suit pants. She unbuttoned them, and pulled them down his waist as he watched with the hint of a smile playing at his lips. Then the boxers went too, and just the tips of her fingertips were taunting over the tip of his hard, bulging member, teasing him. He sucked in a deep breath of air as she caught his cock firmly, and stroked a slow, painfully deliberate circuit up to the tip and then back to the shaft. Her touch would be insistent and then light, enough to drive him wild, and then it was fleeting. Seemingly, purposely manipulating his pleasure.

He must have been whimpering because he saw her eyes were narrow and she was smiling slyly. "Turn about's fair play, Jayce."

"Wha'?"

Her hand took his larger one, lifting it before his eyes. "This has been naughty." That was about all the teasing he could take. He sat up, and smothered her lips with his own, as he reached around her and undid her bra throwing it aside all in one smooth motion. She gasped as he tackled her into the bed. His manhood was hard to the point of being painful...and with her splayed out so lovely on her sheets, he pinned her arms over her head, before beginning the slow drive of his cock in to her. He teased the outside of her laiba with the tip of his penis.

"Oh God," she moaned as he began to enter her. Her slit was wonderfully tight but it was clear she wasn't a virgin. Her eyes were unfocused as it seemed she was waiting for the full feel of him inside her, bracing herself. She was worried he was too big for her. "Be gentle, Jayce" she whispered, softly, almost like a little girl. He slowly trailed his fingers down her arms and through her silky brown hair. Her eyes were closed now and she was breathing slow and ragged. When his hands traced over her breasts coming to brace at her sides, he leveraged the rest of the way into her and she gasped again. "Gentle, Jayce," she whimpered, unable to prevent herself from squirming. He was in heaven though; loving how her inner walls squeezed him so tight. Three was a rightness about it.

And then his hips rode into her, and hers could only follow suit as their bodies grinded against each other. Every ounce of his body was on fire, sensitive to the touch. And he could feel her hands everywhere, fingertips interlaced with his hair, along his lips, trailing the side of his neck. His were manipulating her hard nipples, working them as she whimpered, before pressing against her stomach and then back up again. Sweat had made her skin luminescent; and to him it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen; how her face was contorted with each thrust, pleasure and sweetness intermingled, and how she'd lick her lips just so or bite her lower one to fight through the frustration and pleasure. His hand pressed against her cheek, and her eyes opened then, brilliantly radiant pools of blue that locked on his eyes so solidly he couldn't look away.

Still their bodies grinded and he could feel himself getting close. Her eyes closed once more and she was biting her lower lip again, crying out with every thrust and her hips bucked with every scream. She was already on the way there, and heading to the same edge he was. But the feeling was unbelievable. Inside her, nothing else mattered. He felt like this was where he belonged, and it was an epiphany he couldn't recall having before. He found himself grinding harder and harder and she made the sweetest moans such that he could never get as deep as he truly wanted.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god," she was breathing fast and ragged. The heat was too much. And then he was there. He let a low guttural groan, and released inside of her, a streaming urgent trail of milky semen. He could feel himself getting soft, but was aware that her body was still grinding hard so close to its own release. He pressed a kiss to her slightly parted lips, stealing her breath once more, and after pulling out from her, he grazed my fingertips across her soaking wet cunt. He found her clit and concentrated his attention there, manipulating it with slow insistent pressure and she began to pant and then her moans took on a more desperate quality. He could feel her grab his wrist hard and when the moment came her fingernails dug deep into him. Her back arched sinuously against the bed as she released, crying out intensely from the pleasure and the frustration from before and just the intensity of the moment. Her lithe form shivered against the bed and he gingerly moved off her, giving her a chance to breathe once more. He gave her hand a squeeze to provide contact, but nothing more knowing how sensitive she was in that moment. She continued to pant and her forehead and cheeks and hollow of her neck glistened with sweat. Fondly, he ran his fingertips through her hair and waited for her breathing to slow and the shivers to subside.