[This story contains butch lesbian characters who use she/her, they/them, and he/him pronouns.]
It's Halloween. My apartment is decorated in orange and black and purple streamers and fake spider webs. Spooky sound effects play over my bluetooth speaker, howling and evil laughter and eerie violin music. My dining table is covered in bottles of liquor and mixers, with a bowl of candy in the middle, just for me. No one else likes candy that much, but it made me dance with joy when Parker brought the bag for me. He's dressed as a werewolf and wearing fake hair and a tight blank tank top that shows off his muscles. Lou is dressed as Gomez Addams, with a striped suit and a mustache. He's always in a damn suit. Cal is Freddie Mercury at his Live Aid performance, with a white tank top, light blue jeans, and a black studded belt. She looks good. Really good. Zeke is looking like a sexy pirate as Captain Morgan, and they keep making the pose. And Max... Max bleached their curly hair and is dressed as Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, who they know I have a crush on.
I'm dressed as a cowboy in a full get-up, with cowboy boots, assless chaps, a button-up Western shirt, a red bandana around my neck, and a cowboy hat. Zeke calls me "cowboy" and tugs on my bandana and it makes my ears warm. Max calls me "Daddy" and it makes my whole body flush. The last time we had a party together, it turned into strip poker and ended with me taking Cal's cock and calling her Daddy, by accident, in front of the group.
"Don't tease her, Max," Parker says, fiddling with my bandana. "After all, she's flagging for fisting, not Daddies."
I flush again. I've never fisted, or been fisted, but technically, with the bandana around my neck, I'm flagging as a switch for it. I've always been curious about it. I'm probably as red as the bandana.
I try to laugh it off. "Whatever, Parker."
I grab a drink from the table, another White Claw. What can I say? I know what I like.
"Got your pussy drink?" Max asks, winking at me.
"Fuck off." I roll my eyes.
"Whatever you say, cowboy," Max says, playfully bumping arms with me as they walk by.
"Okay, Spike," I try to spit back, but it doesn't sound like an insult. It just sounds like the Spike costume is making me flustered, because it is. They look so hot with bleached hair and a leather jacket, fake sharp canines making their flashy white grin even sexier. It makes me think about them biting my neck, my knees going weak, their strong arms holding me up while they suck hard... Okay. Shit.
Sharing Max's supernatural costume theme, Parker is a hot, muscular werewolf, pouring himself a whiskey at the table.
"Werewolves drink whiskey?" I ask.
"Cowboys drink White Claw?" he retorts.
I laugh. "That's fair."
He has fake hair on his face, chest, arms, and hands, and my eyes run over his rugby muscles under the black tank. I take a sip of my drink, feeling thirsty. I'm not usually attracted to hair this much, but God, it looks good on him.
He smiles at me. "Something catch your eye?"
I must have been more obvious in my checking out than I'd hoped. "No," I clear my throat. "Great costume, man."
He tips his head back and howls, to hoots and cheers from the others in the living room. He smiles and winks at me. "Thanks, cowboy," he says, slapping my shoulder. Being called "cowboy" is making me feel hot and bothered the way being called "Daddy" or "good boy" does.
I walk over to the couch and sit down with Lou, Cal, and Zeke.
"Hey cowboy," they greet me, and I feel hot.
"Hey," I say. "What are we talking about?"
"To be honest," Zeke says, "We were talking about your last party." I flush.
"It was fun," Cal says casually. I look at her and remember riding her cock and calling her Daddy with my hands tied behind my back by a white velvet bandana, the flag for voyeurs and exhibitionists.
"Yeah," I agree, pretending to be casual. "Fun."
"It was a good poker game," Lou adds.
I was the first one naked in strip poker, offered up for sexual favors as my bet for hands.
"Mhmm," I squeak, sipping my drink.
"You're a very good host," Zeke adds.
"Thank you," I say, growing redder. I didn't think it would be this hard to play it cool around my friends after our last party.
"What game should we play tonight?" Lou asks.
"Never have I ever?" Cal suggests.
"Spin the bottle?" Zeke says with an eyebrow waggle.
"How 'bout truth or dare?" Parker walks into the room and joins the conversation.
None of these are good ideas. Shit. My heart is hammering and my palms are sweaty, thinking about the direction this could go.
"I like truth or dare," Max adds, joining the living room too. My sofa and chairs sit the six of us. I look around the room to our ridiculous ensemble of costumes and smile to myself.
"Sure," Lou says, his thin Gomez mustache twitching up into a smirk.
"Zeke?" Parker asks, arching a hairy eyebrow.
"Aye, matey," Zeke winks.
"I'm down," Cal chimes in. She leans back and stretches her arms behind her head so that her Freddie Mercury white tank top stretches across her chest, and I notice that she's not wearing a bra.
Christ. I'm fucked.
"Charlie?" Parker asks, waving his hand at me. I blink and clear my head.
"Yeah," I say for the sake of agreeing. "Why not."
"Great. Well, as the host, why don't you start us off?"
Oh God. I cough and clear my throat.
"Okay. Truth." I take a drink.
"What's your favorite card game?" Max asks with a smirk.
I blush, thinking of strip poker. "Uno," I answer.
"Not poker?" Zeke jokes. My blush deepens.
"Next?" I ask, not answering their question, looking at Max and Zeke on either side of me.
"I'll go," Max says. "Dare."
"Let us do body shots off of you, Spike," Parker teases.
Max shrugs. "Sure."
Parker grabs tequila, lime slices, and salt from the dining table and brings it over to the living room. Max lies down on the coffee table and lifts their black t-shirt, showing their sports bra and toned abs. I swallow without meaning to.
Everyone takes their turn licking Max's abs and sprinkling salt on them, pouring tequila into their belly button, licking it up and taking a bite of lime to finish it off.
When it's my turn, I try to stay focused on swallowing the shot without coughing. I try not to get distracted by Max's hot body or gaze on me. I prepare the body shot on their six pack, lick the salt, suck up the tequila, bite the lime, and wince. Max winks at me from the table, fangs glinting.
Next up is Cal, in her tight white tank top and studded black belt, who chooses truth.
"Do you always pack a teal dick?" Lou asks.
"No, not always," she grins. A non-specific answer. She could pack other dicks, or not pack at all.
Next is Parker's turn, the hairy werewolf. He picks dare.
"Guess who's wearing boxers or briefs," Zeke suggests.
"Hmm, good one." Parker considers, peering at each of us around the room. He starts with Lou. "Boxers." Zeke. "Briefs." Me. "Boyshorts." Dammit. He's right. Max. "Boxers." Cal. "Boxer briefs. How'd I do?"
A chorus of agreement rises up from the group, acquiescing. Then Max shrugs and says, "Nope. Commando." They wink at Parker and spread their legs, leaning back in their chair. We burst up laughing and Zeke calls Max a slut. I blush thinking about Max's pants and what's not underneath them.
Lou's turn is next, looking dapper in his striped suit and mustache. He chooses truth.
"What's something you're embarrassed to admit?" Cal asks, sipping her beer.
He ponders for a moment, wincing when he thinks of something but knowing he has to say it out loud. "I jerk off thinking about the poker game."
Not "I've jerked off." I jerk off. As in, repeatedly. I could faint. I start to imagine him jerking off, and my mouth goes dry.
There are some chuckles around the room and I think I hear Parker mutter under his breath, "You're not the only one." But between him sitting across from me and the Halloween sound effects playing in the background, I can't be sure what he said.
Now it's Zeke's turn, the sexy pirate. They choose dare.
"Demonstrate your best oral sex move on the nearest object," Max dares.
"What's the nearest object?" Zeke asks, looking around. Parker passes them his empty beer bottle from the table. "Here," he laughs.
Zeke shrugs, and goes for it. Their performance is something to watch. They swirl their tongue around the lip of the brown bottle, slipping their tongue inside the opening repeatedly, then wrapping their mouth around the neck of the bottle and swallowing, pumping it in and out of their mouth, adding moans for effect.
It makes me wet.
When they finish, they pull the bottle from their mouth with a pop and quirk their eyebrow at me.
I swallow as everyone turns to me. "Truth," I say, still not ready to receive a dare.
"Have you ever had a sexual fantasy about someone here, and if so, please share details." Parker sounds like he was ready with this one.
