Chapter 29: Just Between Us Guys.

February 6, 6:00 AM. Château des Rêves, Alex and Kate’s room.
“Damn, we gossip like a couple of chicks for hours on the phone. Even at night. Or rather, it’s already morning,” Alex says to Chase Runker continuing their video call. He stares at his phone screen and takes a sip of his lemon hard drink. He still wears a white t-shirt and black shorts. “So what do you think—which option would be better for me if, God forbid, Kate dumps me: Sarah, Mia, or Camila?”
Chase’s face fills the screen. He leans back against his headboard, the cigarette long gone, replaced by a half-empty glass of something amber. He squints at the screen, smirking like he sizes up a bad bet at the track.
“Jesus, Alex… You’re already auditioning replacements at six in the morning? That’s either proactive or pathetic. I’m leaning toward pathetic.”
He swirls the glass, ice clinking.
“Alright, let’s break this down like men who’ve seen some shit.
Sarah? Sweet as maple syrup, plays ukulele, bakes cookies—probably fucks like a hug from your mom. Safe. Boring. You feel like a saint for a week, then start missing the chaos.
Mia? Eighteen, pigtails, dopamine-dressed little anime psycho. She chews you up, spits you out, and posts the evidence on TikTok with a cute filter. Fun as hell… until she decides you’re ‘mid’ and ghosts you for some K-pop stan.” He takes a slow sip, eyes gleaming.
“Camila though… Camila’s the nuclear option. Ice queen with vineyard money. She manipulates you into thinking it was your idea to worship her. Cold, calculated, loyal once you’re in the circle. Sex is… surgical. Hot, ruthless, probably leaves marks you hide for weeks.”
Chase grins wide and crooked.
“If Kate actually dumps your ass? Go Camila. You need someone who fights as dirty as Dreamside taught you to survive. Sarah’s a rebound, Mia’s a fling—Camila’s a goddamn upgrade in venom.”
He leans closer to the camera.
“But honestly, man? None of ‘em. You’re still dripping Kate from every pore. Picking now is just punishing yourself early.”
He shrugs.
“Though if I had to bet money… I’d say you secretly want Mia to ruin you. Admit it.”
Alex laughs, looking at Chase on his phone screen. “What? ‘As Dreamside taught me to survive’? Seriously? Listen, my life at first as a Russian-speaking immigrant was hell. Not because the US is some bad country—no. All because of my panic attacks, which you witnessed. Everything I have now—I owe primarily to you. If you hadn’t introduced me to Dana four years ago… I don’t even want to think what would’ve happened.”
Alex lies on his back on the giant fold-out couch-bed and stares at the ceiling, occasionally glancing at the phone screen. “…And Kate… Yeah, my relationship with her started around the same time, but back then I had practically nothing except panic attacks and my writing talent… Honestly? I still don’t understand what she saw in me. Probably like in those memes—you’ve probably seen them: handsome, charismatic, and loaded—she turns up her nose. Average, antisocial, and broke—‘GIMME HIM!’ Heh, fucked up… No, Chase—I’m not surviving now. My life now is a casual game with cheats on. ‘Alex has a tummy ache and bad mood—here’s Madi for him. Alex sucks at managing finances? Here’s Amy. Alex doesn’t want to do household chores? Here’s a staff of servants. Alex has some other problems? Kate gives him a blowjob, and Lila and Dana stimulate the erection…’ Chase, in the post-Soviet space they’d kill for a life like this. Literally. And as for Mia…” Alex smirks. “Damn, you know me too well…”
Chase leans back against his headboard, swirling the whiskey with a lazy grin, eyes narrowing like he reads Alex’s soul through the screen.
“Yeah, yeah, spare me the immigrant sob story, buddy. I was there—remember? Holding your hand while you hyperventilated in that dive bar bathroom. You’re welcome.”
He takes a sip, chuckling low.
“And Dana? Please. I just made the introduction. You did the heavy lifting with that twisted talent of yours. Though yeah… without me, you’d probably still be hiding in some basement, writing smut for pennies and popping Xanax like Tic Tacs.”
Chase tilts his head, smirk sharpening.
“But look at you now—living the dream. Mansion, staff, girls lining up to fix your every little problem… including the fun ones. Kate on her knees, Lila and Dana tag-teaming the motivation. Hell, most guys would sell their left nut for that cheat code life.”
He leans closer, voice dropping to that familiar conspiratorial rasp.
“And Mia… oh, we’re circling back to her, huh? That little dopamine bomb with the pigtails and the dark sense of humor. You know damn well she’d crawl all over you, tease you stupid with those bright skirts and cruel giggles… let you touch, taste, beg a little—then decide when you’re allowed to finish.”
Chase winks, grin pure mischief.
“You’re smirking ‘cause you know I’m right. You’d let her play you like a fiddle and thank her for it. Admit it—you’re already half-hard just thinking about her chaos.”
Alex laughs. “Well, what choice do I have? You know damn well if Kate dumps me, it feels like the end of the fucking world. I’m pretty pathetic, huh? And Mia… Shit, I’m into crazy chicks. Guess I’m a bit fucked in the head myself. You know, I’ve got two stories in my drafts I wrote recently, kinda under the general vibe lately. Yeah, in the last couple days.”
Alex rolls onto his side and keeps talking to Chase, staring at his phone screen. “Anyway, one story’s about a girl who buries her boyfriend as an experiment in an iridium coffin with life support and full sensory deprivation, while she goes off to fuck her black buddy. You get the symbolism there.” Alex laughs. “And the second one’s like fantasy-horror: a race of intelligent, lust-driven demons conquers sentient species, turning planets into writhing worm-balls of tentacles that rape the girls, while the guys get processed into special Worm Humus to keep the girls eternally young and alive. These demons feed on female lust. I built a fully coherent cosmology with all the details. No idea what the fuck to do with that story now.”
Chase leans back against his headboard, swirling the whiskey with a slow, appreciative grin. “Pathetic? Nah, kid. You’re just human. And humans in love do stupid, beautiful things—like writing fucked-up masterpieces when their girl is out getting railed by a fifteen-inch rapper.”
He takes a sip, eyes gleaming with that familiar mix of sympathy and pure entertainment. “Iridium coffin, sensory deprivation, black buddy on the side… Jesus, that’s cold. Symbolic as hell. You’re burying yourself alive while Kate lives her best life. Classic Alex—turning heartbreak into premium-grade kink.”
Chase chuckles low and shakes his head. “And the demon-tentacle-worm-humus thing? That’s not a story, that’s therapy on acid. Planets turned into eternal orgy farms, girls kept young and screaming in lust forever, guys reduced to fertilizer… You really went full cosmic cuckold apocalypse, huh?”
He leans closer to the camera, voice dropping to a conspiratorial rasp. “Listen to me. Don’t delete that shit. Polish it. Publish it under one of your dirtier pseudonyms. Let the freaks pay you for the nightmares you’re living. Turn the pain into profit—like a real writer.”
Chase winks. “And if Mia ever reads it? She’ll probably get wet, climb right into your lap, and ask you to whisper the tentacle parts while she rides you slow. Chaos recognizes chaos, my friend.”
Alex laughs. “Fuck, I’ve got another story too—about how they turn me, well, my protagonist, into a toilet. And his girlfriend leaves him for their mutual black friend. Basically an evolution of that iridium coffin story. Yeah… My fetishes have been getting really fucking weird lately… And Mia… You’re already shipping us, aren’t you? But Lila, Amy, and Madi think Sarah’s the best option for me… At least Lila definitely does.”
Alex sighs. “Jesus, they’ve already decided Kate’s definitely leaving me. And the worst part is how casually they talk about it… It’s just fucking insane.”
Chase leans back against his headboard and lets out a low, appreciative whistle before he takes a slow sip of whiskey. “A toilet? Full-on human toilet transformation while the girlfriend bounces on her black buddy’s dick? Christ, Alex… you’re not just processing pain, you’re weaponizing it into some next-level depravity. That’s not weird—that’s art. Dark, filthy, beautiful art.”
He smirks, eyes glinting with pure Runkle mischief. “Your fetishes aren’t getting weird, pal. They’re finally catching up to the chaos you’ve been living. Kate out there pushing boundaries? Your brain’s pushing back the only way it knows how—turning this situation into high-concept kink.”
Chase leans in, voice dropping low and conspiratorial. “And yeah, I’m shipping you and Mia hard. That little anime-punk firecracker would read your toilet story, laugh her cruel little laugh, then straddle your face and make you thank her for every twisted word. Chaos meets chaos—perfect.” He shrugs, grin widening. “Lila, Amy, Madi pushing Sarah? Of course they are. Sarah’s safe. Sweet. Canadian comfort food. She’ll bake you cookies and play ukulele while you pretend you’re healing. But we both know that’s not what you need right now.”
Chase points a finger at the camera. “You need someone who’ll match your darkness, not soothe it. Someone who’ll giggle while she wrecks you. The mansion wants you fixed. I want you alive.”
He winks. “So fuck their casual funeral planning. Write the toilet story. Publish the demon worms. And if Mia ever texts you… answer.”
February 6, 9:00 AM. Private WhatsApp chat between Amy and Madi.
StrangeTiefling (Amy): Anyway, I talk to Lila. She has a candidate for “crisis management.” Her name is Ava.
DociCarrow (Madi): You sure?
StrangeTiefling (Amy): Yeah. Poetry teacher at DreamArts College. She used to mentor Sadie. Big mouth, big brain. Apparently gets off on dissecting people’s lives. Lila thinks she will understand and not judge. I am still worried about someone that nosy digging through our shit.
DociCarrow (Madi): I mean… if it is just PR, maybe. But if she starts asking about Alex and Kate…
StrangeTiefling (Amy): Exactly. And now with the fucking Jonas and Marisol… and Becky, who wants to avenge them for the security system sabotage. It is all getting so messy.
DociCarrow (Madi): Christ. And Kate is still at Topanga. She has no idea what is about to hit her when she gets back. We should tell her.
StrangeTiefling (Amy): No way. She has enough on her plate already. Brian is her priority right now. We will handle it.
DociCarrow (Madi): Alex is her priority too. And he is the one getting fucked in the head.
StrangeTiefling (Amy): I know. But she will have to deal with it eventually. Right now, she is having the time of her life. Let her enjoy it.
February 6, 9:00 AM. Topanga Canyon Inn.
Kate and Brian’s first time lasts the whole night. They only break twice—for a shower and some food.
Completely naked and exhausted from the wild fucking, Kate rolls toward Brian. He lies fully naked on his back beside her on the huge red four-poster bed. She drapes an arm over his muscular chest and rests her head on his shoulder. Brian shifts slightly, one arm wrapping around her waist as he looks down at her with a lazy smile.
“Mmm… good morning, golf girl,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep and satisfaction.
Kate nuzzles into him, her fingers trailing lightly over his skin. “Morning,” she breathes. Post-coital glow warms her face as she studies him. “You’re…” She hesitates, then grins. “The quality control was fucking insane.”
Brian chuckles and squeezes her. “Well, did I get a hole-in-one? By the way, you bit through your thong.” His fingers trace slow circles on her hip. Kate laughs, burying her face against his chest for a moment before peeking up. “Oh yeah. I know. I was surprised it even lasted that long.” She stretches luxuriously, arching her back, then settles against him again. “You’re like the Energizer Bunny with a fifteen-inch cock.”
Brian’s grin widens. He lifts her chin with one finger and brings her face close. “And you’re a quick learner. I like that about you.” He brushes his lips against hers in a slow, lazy kiss. When he pulls back, his brown eyes are warm and playful. “Should we order room service? Or are you ready for round two already?”
Kate’s blue eyes sparkle with mischief as she props herself up on one elbow. Her long blonde hair tumbles messily over her bare shoulder. She lets her gaze drag slowly down his dark, sculpted body and lingers on the heavy, half-hard length of his cock resting against his thigh. “Room service can wait,” she says, voice husky and playful. “I’m still hungry for the main course.”
She slides her hand down his chest, over the ridges of his abs, and wraps her fingers around his thickening shaft. It feels hot and heavy, already swelling in her grip. Kate bites her lower lip and gives him a slow, deliberate stroke from root to tip. “Fuck, Brian… how are you even real?” she murmurs, watching his cock jump at her touch. “Fifteen inches of pure destruction, and you’re already getting hard again? I’m sore in places I didn’t know existed.”
Brian exhales a low, satisfied growl. His hand slides up her back to fist gently in her hair. “Told you, Miss Norwin. I don’t play fair.” He tugs her head back just enough to expose her throat, then leans in and drags his tongue slowly up her neck. “You took it like a goddamn champion all night. Pussy, ass, throat… every hole begging for more.”
Kate shivers. Her thighs press together instinctively. “Mmm, don’t remind me,” she whispers, even as her grip tightens and she pumps him faster. “Or do. Because I’m already wet again.”
She swings a leg over his hips and straddles him. His length lies thick and rigid against her belly. Kate rocks forward, sliding her slick folds along the underside of his shaft and coating him in her arousal. “Look at that,” she breathes, glancing down between them. “I’m dripping on you already. You turned me into a total size queen overnight.”
Brian grips her ass hard and spreads her cheeks as he watches her grind. “Good. That’s exactly where I want you.” His voice comes out low, rough, and possessive. “Ride me, Kate. Show me how bad you need this big black cock again.”
She doesn’t need to be told twice. Kate lifts her hips, reaches down to angle him, and sinks slowly onto him. Her breath catches as he fills her—still swollen and tender from last night, but so fucking eager. She pauses when just the head is inside, eyes fluttering.
“Fuuuck… so thick,” she moans, circling her hips to ease him deeper. Inch by inch she takes him, her walls fluttering and gripping as she lowers herself. When she finally seats herself fully, him buried deep, her head falls back with a shaky laugh of pure bliss.
“God, yes,” she gasps, starting to rock. “Fill me up, King B. Make me forget I ever played it safe.”
Brian thrusts up hard to meet her rhythm, his hands guiding her hips as he watches her bounce. “That’s it, blondie. Take every inch. You’re mine now.”
Kate rocks her hips in slow, deliberate circles, savoring every inch of him buried deep inside her. Her palms stay flat on his chest, fingers splayed over hard muscle as she grinds her clit against his base. Each roll sends sparks up her spine. She is still swollen and sensitive from the night, but the ache feels perfect.
“Fuck, King B,” she sighs, voice light and breathy, eyes half-lidded. “You’re ruining me for every other driver on the planet. My Taylormade’s officially jealous.”
Brian’s big hands slide up her thighs, thumbs pressing into the soft skin just below her ass. He smirks and thrusts up lazily to meet her. “Good. Means you’ll keep coming back to the pro shop.” His voice is all gravel and satisfaction. “Now quit teasing and ride me properly, Norwin. I wanna watch those pretty small tits bounce.”
Kate laughs—bright, unfiltered, the sound spilling out of her like sunshine. She straightens up, sitting tall on him, blonde hair falling wild around her shoulders. Then she starts moving for real: up slowly until just the head is inside, then dropping down hard, taking him in one slick slide. The slap of skin on skin echoes in the quiet suite.
“Yes—fuck—just like that,” Brian growls, eyes locked on where they join. She grips him tight, coating him every time she lifts.
Kate tilts her head back, a grin still playing on her lips even as pleasure tightens her features. “God, I love how full you make me feel. Like… I’m stretched around something that shouldn’t even fit, but it does. Repeatedly.” She leans forward again, bracing her hands on either side of his head, hair curtaining them both. “Tell me again why we waited five months for this?”
Brian’s hips snap up hard, driving deeper, making her gasp. “’Cause you were busy playing house with your little writer boy,” he says, but there’s no real venom in it—just raw honesty and a dark edge of triumph. One hand comes up to cup her chest. “But now you know what you’ve been missing.”
Kate’s rhythm falters for a second. Alex flashes through her mind—his soft green eyes, the way he calls her Goddess when they’re alone, the gentle, reverent way he touches her. Guilt flickers, but the thick drag of him hitting spots Alex never could drowns it out fast. She drops down to kiss Brian instead, messy and hungry, moaning into his mouth. When she pulls back, her eyes are glassy but warm.
“I still love him,” she says simply, like stating the weather. “Like—crazy, stupid, four-years deep love. But this?” She clenches around him deliberately, drawing a hiss from his teeth. “This is… different. Primal. I didn’t know I needed it until you were balls-deep wrecking my entire worldview.”
Brian flips them suddenly—effortless strength rolling her onto her back, staying buried inside her. He hooks her legs over his shoulders, folding her nearly in half, and starts thrusting hard and deep.
“Then let me keep wrecking it,” he rumbles, voice low against her ear. “Every day. Move me into that big-ass mansion. Let me fuck you on every surface while your Baby Boy writes his dirty little books in the guest house.”
Kate’s laugh comes out broken, turning into a moan as he hits that perfect angle. “God, you’re awful,” she gasps, nails raking down his back. “Awful and perfect and—oh fuck—don’t stop.” Her walls flutter, orgasm building fast. “Yes, yes—move in. We’ll figure it out. Just—harder—“
Brian obliges, pounding into her with everything he has, the headboard slamming against the wall. Kate comes with a bright, happy cry—back arching off the bed, toes curling, pussy clamping down on him like a vice. He follows seconds later, burying himself to the root and flooding her again, pulse after pulse.
When it passes, he doesn’t pull out. He lowers her legs gently and stays on top of her, propped on his elbows, both of them breathing hard.
Kate reaches up, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone, smile soft and a little dazed. “You know this is insane, right?” she murmurs. “Inviting my bestie’s boyfriend to live with me and my boyfriend. Château des Rêves is gonna need a new org chart.”
Brian chuckles, kissing her wrist. “Long as I’m at the top of your dance card, I’m good.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s still grinning. “We’ll see, King B. First you’ve gotta survive brunch with Alex. He’ll probably offer you herbal tea and ask about your creative process.”
Brian groans dramatically, dropping his forehead to hers. “Fuck. Do I have to be nice to him?”
Kate laughs again, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Be as nice as you want. Just don’t break his heart. That’s my job.” She pauses, then adds with deadpan timing, “Kidding. Mostly.”
She kisses him slow and sweet, tasting herself on his tongue.
“Now,” she whispers against his lips, “shower. Food. Then we have to figure out how to tell my sweet, introverted, five-inch erotic genius that the new housemate comes with a fifteen-inch learning curve.”
February 6, 10:30 AM. Topanga Canyon Inn.
They finally drag themselves out of bed, muscles loose and aching in the best way. The shower turns into a slow, steamy round three. Kate presses face-first against the marble wall while Brian grips her hips and slides into her from behind. Water cascades over their joined bodies. She comes with a muffled laugh against her forearm. He follows with a deep groan, filling her one last time before they actually wash.
Room service arrives: pancakes, bacon, fresh fruit, strong coffee. They eat naked on the private balcony, canyon breeze cooling their skin, legs tangled under the small table. Kate spears a strawberry, dips it in whipped cream, and holds it to Brian’s lips. He takes it slow, teeth grazing her fingers.
“So,” she says, licking cream off her thumb, “logistics. You’ll pack up your stuff from your Beverly Hills crib. I’ll clear out one of the guest wings in the main building. The main building of Château des Rêves is huge—three floors, basement, attic, elevator, land—and about five hundred employees in total, if you count all the buildings on the mansion. Alex has his office… in other words, his writing studio. When he’s deep in one of his books, he can vanish in there for days. You two can coexist without ever bumping into each other if you want.”
Brian leans back, coffee in hand, watching her with that lazy, satisfied smirk. “And when I want you? I just stroll through those fancy corridors, find you in the commons or the main kitchen, bend you over the island while your boy’s typing his secret smut novels in his cave?”
Kate snorts, nearly choking on orange juice. “Romantic. Real romantic.” She kicks his shin lightly under the table. “We’ll set ground rules. No surprise walk-ins during date nights. Respect the schedule. And please don’t flex on him. He’s sensitive about… certain measurements.”
Brian raises an eyebrow. “You mean the five-inch situation.”
“Among other things,” she says, deadpan. “He’s an absolute genius with words, Brian. Writes the dirtiest, most beautiful erotic scenes under a dozen pen names. People get off to his books and have no idea the author looks like a shy, smooth-skinned introvert who’d rather hide than come to my parties.”
Brian laughs, low and rough. “So I’m the muscle, he’s the brain. Got it.”
Kate tilts her head, expression softening. “No. You’re both… everything. Just different flavors.” She reaches across the table and laces her fingers with his. “I’m greedy, okay? I want the sweet, worshippy love I get from Alex—my Baby Boy who calls me Goddess when we’re alone on our third-floor Sexodrome—and I want the absolute wrecking ball you just gave me for around twelve straight hours. I want both. And I want you two to not hate each other.”
Brian squeezes her hand. “I don’t hate him. Dude’s got the hottest girl on the planet and he’s cool sharing. That’s real respect.” He pauses, then grins. “But yeah, I’m still gonna be the one making you scream so loud the staff in the annexes need noise-canceling headphones.”
Kate rolls her eyes, but she smiles wide. “Challenge accepted, King B.”
She stands, stretches like a cat in the sunlight, then walks over and straddles his lap right there on the balcony chair. His cock twitches against her thigh—already half-hard again.
“One more for the road?” she murmurs, nipping his earlobe.
Brian’s hands slide up her bare back. “Thought you’d never ask.”
They don’t check out until almost noon.