Time To Waste

Chapter 08: Confusion

A/N: This story deals with some themes of dubious consent and this, therefore, is another reason that it was marked Mature. However, in the interest of being forthcoming, this is the chapter where that begins. If this will be upsetting for you, please be advised.

Something delicately rough but warm was rubbing between her thighs as she felt her body trying to drag itself from a deep unconscious. She yawned, then peeked one eye open. Nothing familiar. What was this room and why was there a gigantic crystal chandelier above the bed? This was definitely not home. In fact, where was home? Frustrated and still exhausted, she sighed. It was all too much to even attempt to understand at the moment.

"I love you, beautiful," a tall, tattooed and ominous looking man smiled brightly as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. He waved a wet washcloth around and grinned. "I was just cleaning you up a little, since we made such a mess."

She opened up her other eye to fully evaluate the stranger, somewhat fearfully. He was tall, towering over her on the bed as she lay prone on her back, thighs splayed open. Shockingly, she discovered that she was naked and scrambled to try and cover herself with an errant sheet.

He laughed at this. "Are you shy now? That's kind of silly, Jen, don't you think?" He sat down beside her, resting on the side of the thick mattress as he reached for her hand and placed a kiss to her knuckles. "Last night was fucking amazing, baby," he cooed as he met her gaze. "I'm going to be jacking off to the memories for years!"

A second man took that moment to appear from a doorway, backlit in a light so bright she was forced to squint. He reached behind him, did something, and the light shut off. Thank God. "You're not acting yourself," this man observed as he approached the bed. He turned to the other guy and winced. "Don't you think she's been acting off?"

The first man, whose entire neck was covered in colors and shapes, and who had the most stunningly vibrant and glittering chocolate irises that she had ever seen, shrugged. "She seems fine to me. Just exhausted."

The shorter man sat on the opposite side of the bed, trapping her between the two with no clear avenue of escape. The first man still held her hand in his much, much larger one, caressing her fingers and running a thumb across her palm. That did feel amazingly good, sent tingles all over her body like electric caresses, but he was still freaking her out. As if knowing this, he kissed her hand a second time and smiled. "Tell Richard that you're alright, baby, so that he'll stop being such a dad!"

Considering her words wisely and assessing the pair, she inched back toward the headboard and crouched in a half-sitting position. "Who are you?" she squeaked, clutching a spare pillow to her chest like a safety blanket. "Where am I?"

Ricky felt torn between screaming "Fuck!" and laughing, "There it is, ladies and gentlemen." His sixth sense had poked and prodded him all night long, whispering that not everything was kosher here, while his cock begged him to ignore and conquer. Now, he was going to pay the price for his own, penis-based stupidity. Or, Jenna was fucking with them. Nervously, he tried to force a half-hearted laugh. "Funny, Jen!"