Lake

Standing on Wish’s stoop with adrenaline surging in my veins, I feel like the prince from Sleeping Beauty about to throw myself into the thorns. Part of me likes it. I’m going to save Wish. If I were bigger—if I thought I could take Mercer—I would have saved him already, but I’m not that kind of prince.

I have to go to Club Neon. Me telling Wish about his doppelgänger and then Mercer going rogue right after can’t be a coincidence. So, I have to find the other Wish and get back in his good graces. Maybe I won’t be able to convince him to back off, but I can try.

I head out on foot toward Club Neon. Luckily, some sneakers came with my tracksuit. “If you can hear me, Wish, I’m coming to see you. Save me the trouble and teleport me there, will you?” I’m talking to Wish #2 because the real Wish can’t do anything. He’s all-powerful; if he could have used that power to get away from Mercer, he would have. But Wish #2 either doesn’t hear me or doesn’t want to.

I break out into a jog. By the time I’m standing outside Club Neon, my legs are burning, and I’m sweating in my tracksuit.

I catch my breath with my hands on my knees and squint up at the club’s signage. The “LIVE NUDE MEN” sign looks eerie in the daylight, like a forgotten artifact of an abandoned carnival. Above it, black letters spell out “DUNGEON SUNDAY 24 HOURS.” Judging by the paper on the door with “DUNGEON INSIDE” scribbled in magic marker, today is Sunday.

Is Wish just sex-obsessed? As intellectually stimulating as these last couple days have been, I don’t know if my body can take much more.

I wipe my brow before entering Club Neon.

“Excuse me.” A tall blond drink of water approaches. He’s dressed only in a leather harness with his naked cock dangling between his legs. “Dress code is leather or skin.”

I groan. If only I could have kept Mercer’s leather jacket. Begrudgingly, I strip.

“Shoes, too,” says the doorman.

Once I’ve got everything off, the doorman lets me further into the club. I hold my clothes and shoes in my arms and gingerly step through the dimly lit space. Music plays faintly in the background, but there isn’t anyone here except me and the doorman. No one is manning the bar. The dance floor houses several pieces of BDSM equipment—a few spanking benches, a St. Andrew’s cross, among others—but they stand shadowed and unused.

A sick feeling blooms in my stomach as I head toward the staircase I ascended last time to get to the Crimson Room. As before, someone’s manning the door—this time, a girl with a purple pixie haircut.

She grabs my wrist. “Sorry. VIPs only.”

Fuck. I don’t have the star tattoo anymore. “I need to see Wish.”

“VIPs only,” she repeats.

“Well maybe if you tell him I’m sorry—”

“Look.” The girl stands and gets in my face. Funny, she isn’t wearing leather, but she’s been allowed clothes: jeans and a ripped-up T-shirt. “I know who you are, and Wish doesn’t want to see you. Not either one of him. He hurts himself enough. He doesn’t need some emotional sadist fucking his shit up as well.”

The blunt words sting. How does this girl know so much about me and Wish? She must be his friend.

“I’m trying to stop him from hurting himself,” I say.

“Why? So you can make him cry in good conscience?”

“Well... Yes.”

The girl throws up her hands. “Unbelievable.”

I hug my shoes and bunched-up tracksuit more tightly. “Can you please just tell him I’m sorry about how I reacted to the collars? And that I want to see him? I want to give him what he wants. Needs,” I add.

The girl narrows her eyes. “You have nerve. I’ll give you that.” She gets out her phone and types something on it. A few moments later, she waves me into the Crimson Room. “Don’t fuck up.”

I nod to the girl even though I have no idea what I’m getting into.

* * *

Wish

Mercer shoves me through the back entrance of Club Neon. Last time I was here, it opened to an indoor smoking area behind the dance floor, but now, it’s a room with dark green walls and three staircases.

While the Love houses always look familiar—the dingy walls, foggy windows, and deteriorating furniture—this doesn’t. It gives me the same sickly sensation as the doctors on Earth running tests I didn’t consent to or filling me up with drugs I didn’t know the effects of.

If it’s really a conscious part of me making these decisions, why does he do it? He should know how it makes me feel.

“Come on.” Mercer uses his grip on my upper arm to lead me up the center staircase. Pink light glows at the top, and I fight Mercer’s hold, stumbling backwards.

He catches me. “It’s not Love.”

“I don’t want to go, Mercer. Please just let me go home.”

“You need to do this. Everybody agrees.”

“Who agrees?”

Mercer forces me up a few more steps. “Everyone you’ve made.”

I’m breathing hard, and my head’s getting light again, but I don’t fight Mercer anymore. It’s useless anyway. He pushes me up to the staircase’s landing and through an open doorway.

The pink light lands on me, warm like rays from the sun. It’s coming from fat jewels hanging from the ceiling on cords of varying lengths. At the end of the long room stands…Fiend?

“Wish!” Fiend says warmly and opens his leather-covered arms.

With my all, I push back against Mercer. “I know what this is, and I’m not interested!”

Mercer struggles to hold me, but not as much as I struggle to get free. I tire out, panting.

Fiend approaches, his fancy shoes tapping lightly on the cement floor. “I am only here to talk, my sweet.”

“Isn’t that what you call Seraphim now?”

Fiend frowns. The pink light throws his white, hairless features into sharp contrast, and the mix of fear and arousal I used to feel as he climbed under my bedcovers throbs faintly in my core.

“Yes, Seraphim is my one and only now, and he isn’t too happy about my being here. But our dear Romy tells me you’ve copied yourself, and the copy’s doing all sorts of crazy things—”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!”

Mercer releases my arm to rub my shoulder, and my eyes well up again.

Fiend takes my face in his long-fingered hands. “I know that, darling, and I am so very sorry I couldn’t give you what you needed when you were a boy. But don’t you see? You make the things you are afraid of.”

I shake my head. “No, no.”

“You were afraid they’d take your brain, so you made a brain-eating monster. You were afraid of your sexual desires, so you made me into a thing who’d arouse them in you.”

“No, Fiend. Please stop.”

“Oh, honey.” Fiend presses a kiss to my forehead. “You make Love because you’re afraid of feeling that way, but I know what love is really like now, and it doesn’t have to be so hard. You can have it. It’s safe.”

The tears flow freely down my cheeks now. “It’s not safe. Everything’s hard, even here.”

“No, the pain is over. You left Earth behind. You can let go here. You can have anything you want.”

“You don’t know what I deal with, Fiend! I have to be a leader! I have to make sure the city is running smoothly. I have to take care of everyone. My followers are coming, and things aren’t perfect—”

“Sweetheart.” Fiend wipes my tears away with the back of his hand. “You already made the Heaven you promised your followers. And it is not perfect because no place is perfect, but you don’t have to control everything. The things you make grow apart from you and live on their own.”

“I know that, but my subconscious does stupid things. Dangerous things.”

“Wish!” Fiend gives me a little shake. “Let go, and everything will work out. The odd strange thing might pop up, but if you allow yourself to be happy, there will be no storm inside you to leak out into the dimension. Wish City will live and breathe as it is meant to if you will just stop worrying.”

A strange calm washes over me. I search Fiend’s eyes, soft and sincere. “But how do you know?”

Fiend smiles. “I simply do.”

I wiggle out of Mercer’s hold, and he doesn’t try to keep me this time. I wipe away what moisture remains on my face. “Where is he?”

“Who?” Fiend asks.

“My replica. I hear what you’re saying, and thanks, but he took my power away. He has to give it back. I’ll work on ‘letting go’ later.”

“He’s here,” says Mercer. “Next door.”

I look around and spot doors on either side of the pink room. “That’s where the other staircases lead?”

“Yes.”

“If my replica is on one side, what’s on the other?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, dear,” says Fiend.

I narrow my eyes.

“It goes to the operating room where you died,” says Mercer.

“Well! We don’t want to go there, now do we?” I laugh, feeling slightly hysterical. If my power was working, I’d erase all traces of my crying fit, but my eyes are probably red and puffy, and I can’t do anything about it. My sanity feels like a block of ice, losing pieces as the sledgehammer of reality comes down on it.

Mercer heads to the right. “This way, Wish.”

As I follow, I look back at Fiend. He gives me a wave, and feeling like the child I used to be, I wave back.

* * *

Lake

The door to the Crimson Room disappears like before, and so does my tracksuit and shoes. Luckily, Wish #2 or whatever spell he’s rigged sees fit to dress me in a full-length leather trench coat with fitted black clothes underneath it and heavy combat boots.

I won’t complain about the clothes this time, even if they’re a little much. I feel like I’m going into war, and the armor is appreciated.

Sniffling reaches my ears. In the center of the Crimson Room, a spotlight switches on, illuminating the sitting figure of Wish #2. His shoulders shake with sobs, and though I’ve only had the pleasure of seeing a few pretty boys a mess, I’m fairly certain he’s not putting on a show for me this time.

Slowly, I approach. Wish must hear my boots, but he doesn’t acknowledge me.

“Hey, there,” I say.

“What are you even doing here?” The angry words echo off the vast room’s walls. With Wish’s head up, the collar around his throat is visible. It’s the white one with the heart ring in the center.

“You’re wearing my collar.”

“It’s not yours!” The walls light up with a video, this time of gray clouds and lightning. The thunder booms as if coming from the Universe’s best surround sound system.

“Are you crying because of me?” I ask over the noise.

“No!” Wish gets to his feet and shoves me in the chest. This version of him seems to have gotten smaller since the last time I saw him, so he doesn’t manage to hurt me. “I’m crying because he’s going to get rid of me.”

“The other you?”

“My Ego. Isn’t that what you said?”

A shiver runs down my spine. He must have been listening. “That’s right. Is he here? Is he okay?”

“Oh, he’s fine. Just talking to Fiend. He’ll be in here to get rid of me soon enough.” Wish #2 wipes at his running nose. He’s so cute with his red cheeks and eyes twisted with emotion.

“Did you say Fiend?”

“Yeah. His name used to make sense, but it doesn’t anymore. He’s nice. He’s putting me back together.”

Jealousy unfurls in me like a serpent, and I take a step forward. “He’s doing what?”

Wish giggles and fixes me with a devious expression. “You wanted to be the white knight today, didn’t you?”

My face heats, and I cross my arms.

“It’s not your fault you can’t.” Wish comes close and taps the end of my nose. “You haven’t been here long enough, and you didn’t come out of our brain.” He paws at my crossed arms until I let them fall. “Kiss me. Please?”

I’m not in the mood for kissing. The thunder still booming around the room is giving me a headache, and for all I know, this Wish is a distraction keeping me from doing the saving I was planning on. “Where’s the other you? I want to see him.”

“I told you, he’s—”

A door opens up ahead.

“Oh no, he’s here!” Wish #2 scurries to hide behind my back, and a particularly vicious crack of lightning snaps at my eardrums. Rain pours from the ceiling, dousing me and the Wish behind me and the Wish stalking towards us.

“Give me my power back!” yells the real Wish.

Wish #2 shivers against me, and I make fists to resist pulling him into my arms.

The real Wish grips my jaw with slippery fingers. “Are you real?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then how do you feel about me?”

The question comes out of nowhere, and panic flutters in my stomach. “I… I like you.” Is it what he wants to hear? It’s a simplified version of the truth: Knowing you has been hell so far, but still, you compel me.

“How’d you get here?” asks the real Wish, and his hold on my jaw goes gentle and petting.

I don’t think anybody’s ever touched me this way, and it’s making me feel wobbly on my feet. “I ran.”

“Isn’t he sweet?” The voice comes from behind me. Wish #2 isn’t shaking anymore as he wraps his arms around me.

The real Wish presses himself to my front and kisses me. The rain makes the kiss salty and wet. Lips touch the back of my neck as well, and I shudder like an overwhelmed sub.

Am I about to have a threesome with two Wishes? If I had known this before I died, I would have put that bag over my head a lot sooner.

Wish talks to himself over my shoulder. “Give me my power back.”

“It’s back.” Wish #2 takes my trench coat from my shoulders.

The real Wish licks my neck. “Is this okay?” he whispers.

“Yes,” I say. “Keep taking my clothes off. Don’t just make them disappear.”

One of the Wishes goes for my fly. I can’t keep track of who’s who anymore, and I close my eyes and focus on the rain pelting me and the multiple sets of hands peeling wet fabric from my skin. My groin pounds with my heartbeat, and one of the Wishes rubs against me, cock against cock. I get even more unsteady on my feet.

“Hold on,” one of the Wishes whispers. Then the floor beneath us changes, and the Wishes are coming with me as we fall onto a plastic-covered mattress. The Wish behind me humps my ass, his cock sliding between my cheeks but not penetrating. The Wish in front of me takes my hand and puts it on his neck.

Oh. The collar.

“I lied; it is yours. Are you mad at me for wearing it?” Distress twists Wish #2’s sweet features. “I’m sorry, Sir. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Shh.” I kiss each of his cheeks, and he trembles.

In a flash, the Wishes switch places, and the real Wish looks at me with hard eyes. “Treat me like you treat him.”

I can only assume he means the sweet treatment, so I give him the same kisses on each cheek. But he’s stiff, awkward. He pulls away and sits with his back facing me.

The rain comes down harder, stinging my skin.

Wish #2 pats my shoulder. “Hurt him.”

Pain is already radiating from the real Wish, as stiff as he is. “I don’t know.”

“Hit him like you hit me. Use your power on him. We need it.”

Like always, the idea of using my power has my heart aflutter. Maybe this time, he’ll be into it. Maybe it’ll be good.

Universe, I want him like that. Bare. Supplicating. My groin aches.

I press a hard kiss to Wish #2’s lips. He’s adorable all wet, like a puppy stuck in a thunderstorm. “I thought you two were supposed to be back together by now,” I say.

Wish #2 frowns. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Sir.” Then suddenly, he’s gone, but the rain doesn’t let up, and the video of the storm keeps going.

I run my hand along the real Wish’s spine. He’s shivering and covered in goosebumps, but so am I. I think the rain’s getting colder.

“Come here.” I tug on his arm.

He budges easily, and I get him on his back with his legs around me. He watches me like I’ve got knives for hands and I’m about to cut him to pieces.

“You want what he asked for?” I scratch lightly down his chilled chest.

He nods.

“You want me to dominate you? Slap you like a bitch?”

He squirms and nods again.

Nerves tighten my shoulders. “You want me to hurt you with my power?”

Wish rubs my forearm. “Show me everything. I want to see. Please, Lake.”

With that reassurance, it’s as if I can breathe again. I bring my arm up and let it fly, backhanding Wish.

* * *

Wish

Even if we weren’t naked with Lake’s cock brushing mine every time he moves, this would be sex. It starts slowly with the first slap, but the pain gets worse from there. Or better. It gets better. It builds into a better high than Love could ever give me.

Lake doesn’t make me look him in the eyes. He just gives me sensations, and finally, I’m like a sub I saw once on a St. Andrew’s Cross, making involuntary noises and debasing himself for his Dom without a care.

Distantly, I care. But then Lake hits me with his power a few times, and I’m a snivelling, tear-soaked, rain-soaked mess underneath him. Like earlier, after I cried with Fiend, a calm washes over me. The difference now is it’s heavier, freer. I know Lake likes me like this, so I’m not worried about my puffy eyes and red face.

Lake touches my mouth and looks at me like I’m his dragon’s horde. His wet hair hangs in his eyes, plastered to his forehead, and rivulets of rainwater travel into the divots of his muscles and catch in the hair on his abdomen.

“How are you doing?” he asks.

“You look so good wet.”

Lake laughs, sending his features folding in the cutest, most genuine way. If I wasn’t already blubber, I’d melt.

“Thank you,” he says. “Are you comfortable in this position?”

“Yes.” Except I’m cold. Remembering how Lake lost it earlier over the shirt, I ask, “Do you mind if I take us somewhere warmer?”

“That would be nice.”

I turn the Crimson Room into a huge bathtub like they might have had in Ancient Rome. I put smooth seats in the water beneath us, and we have to tilt to keep our heads above the surface, but Lake stays close. Only his eyes wander, widening prettily as he takes in my creation.

“Your power really is magnificent,” he says.

“You’ve seen how unmagnificent it can be.”

Lake smiles softly. “I disagree.”

He followed me before he died, though he never tried to meet me in person. I didn’t know this before, but the memory is sharp and true. “You told my replica you kept tabs on me, right?”

“Yep.” Lake runs his hands up my naked thighs. “I couldn’t tell if it turned him on or off.”

“On.”

Lake smirks, and I’m reminded of greasers from the fifties. He’d look good in an A-shirt, leather jacket, tight jeans. “Tell me about Fiend,” he says.

“Oh, he’s cool. He used to be my boogeyman.”

Lake looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

I laugh. “When I first got here, he literally took control of Wish City, but he’s nice now. I fixed him.”

“I get it. At least, I’m pretending to get it.” Lake looks down at the clear water. “Are we going to be a thing now? If you’d rather fuck your boogeyman, that’s your prerogative, but—”

“I don’t want to fuck Fiend.” More foreign memories surface, like the very recent one of my replica telling Lake about what Fiend used to be to me. “I fooled around with Fiend when I was first learning about sex. I made him. He was a glorified sex doll for that stuff. Just...don’t worry about what my replica said to you.”

Lake chuckles nervously, and I wrap my legs around him under the water.

“There’s no stopping me worrying about it,” he says. “Do you want a collar? I’ll—”

“No! No. I mean...” I laugh, too, frantic and awkward. “It’d have to be something really fucking subtle.”

“What about a necklace?” Lake traces my collarbones. “I could wear one, too. I’m up for... I mean, you can... It doesn’t always have to be me in control.” Lake’s face is on fire, and I’m so hard. “I liked this tonight,” he says. “Actually, I liked all of it. Both of you. I’m sorry. I know it couldn’t have been easy for you, but it felt so right when we finally got there. When you let go...” He kisses my neck, and I’m one with the hot water and his smooth, searching hands.

“I know,” I manage, and my voice breaks when Lake grips my cock with his.

“Did you like it when I bit you?” Lake scrapes his teeth along my throat.

Another memory: an ache in my neck, a sting at my ass, Lake’s cum spilling inside me. My balls emptying. Oh, fuck.

“I liked everything,” I moan. “Do it.”

Lake sinks his teeth into my neck, and the pain is like a drink of water. He strokes us, and I get a good grip of his perfect ass cheek.

“Can I finger you?” I ask.

Lake whines and nods into my neck. He licks my bitten skin then bites it again.

I open him up. I want to make him feel good so badly.

He continues to stroke us and give me that sweet, loving pain. I go away for a while, but at the same time, I’m here in the water in Lake’s arms, finger-fucking him and humping his grip.

We come almost at the same time. I’ve had sex with so many people, but nothing has ever felt easier, safer. I don’t have any doubt now that I’ll be able to commit to one man.

“That was good, right?” Lake asks.

I kiss him with tongue, slow and sweet. “Yes, I loved it. Did you?”

“Yes.”

We kiss for a long time. Then Lake says he’s hungry, and I make us an incredible spread. Even using my power feels easier now.

Sitting at the edge of the bath, naked and comfortable and whole, I take a bite of a chocolate-covered strawberry then feed one to Lake.