Notes

Just popping in the note at the start of this chapter. If you aren't aware, pretty much everything I write will have adult content. Cursing. Strong themes. In this case, this chapter contains cursing and smut. Yes, it is the smutty chapter.

I love all my reviewers. I really do. You guys are awesome. And again I need to send love Desna's way for letting me use some of her characters.

Also remember bluenightingalee on tumblr is drawing up some manga style pages for The Walled Garden. I've seen the unfinished stuff and I actually cried. I kid you not. They're well worth a follow if you're on tumblr.

"She looks like she'd break me if she got me into bed..." Bickslow's brother whistled in a way that made him scowl unhappily. She was more than something to be used, regardless of how much she'd enjoy the time.

His brother speaking about her like she was a thing to be fucked and thrown away after, left him grinding his teeth. He'd never realized how hideously vulgar the behavior actually was until a woman he cared about was the target of it.

He could tell Vander was purposefully trying to aggravate him, knowing their father had confined him to the room until further notice and as much as it bothered him, Bickslow's magic was still too low do do what he currently wanted to do; namely make his brother punch himself repeatedly in the face. A regular person maybe, but a mage with that much magic would be a stretch.

"Oh, but that's right, you wouldn't even know," He laughed teasingly. "I may even get a chance. Maybe she'll want to sample more of the Pradesh family wares before she settles? Those legs look like they could crush skulls."

Bickslow was trying to tune it out; trying to navigate away from responding. A thought crossed his mind that she probably could crush skulls and he had to stop himself from laughing at the idea that he'd ask her to do just that.

This was his third day of forced bed rest and while he genuinely enjoyed sleeping in, not having the option to go out and train, or get some exercise, the Seith was fast losing his mind. He'd overdone it, he knew he had, it was a miracle either of them had even survived, but the repercussions of that meant his magic was going to be slow to crawl back.

As stressful as his days were, his dreams were blood soaked nightmares; the underground fortress, a screaming marketplace; it was an incredible horror to live with and the most he could do for his own sanity was try and pretend it hadn't happened. He wasn't ready to face it.

Maybe his father was worried about his mental state, and that's why Vander had barely left his side for three days. He sensed there was more to it than his brother being simply bored. The Embassy was still mostly on lock down but Vander dealt in shadow and there were very few barriers he couldn't cross; if he wanted to leave, he could leave. The only thing to keep him there were their fathers orders; they took those as gospel. Which begged the question as to why his father would want Vander guarding them; that he could only speculate. Between him and Ali they'd managed to counteract the potion, maybe there was a concern that whoever was involved might make an attempt on their lives while they were recovering? It clearly meant that the magic, as dark as it was, wasn't foolproof. It could be beaten.

While Natsu and Laxus came up to visit him frequently they hadn't been there today and Vander was being an especially annoying little shit. More so than usual.

Bickslow got out of bed and headed for the bathroom while Vander sat on the sofa at the foot of the bed playing with a dagger he'd conjured out of shadow. Changing its shape and size midair as he tossed it and caught it repeatedly; the motion was as maddening as a ticking clock to Bickslow, possibly why Vander felt compelled to continue to do it.

Vander absently noted that his brother watched over the mystery woman in the bed with an almost obsessive eye. He checked her temperature every hour. Refused to let anyone else touch her for reasons he hadn't fully explained. He cleaned her down with exaggerated care.

Whether the Seith was aware or not, Vander was irritating him on purpose; stoking the Seith's anger in the hopes it would help his magic return faster. Emotion was always the real key to magic, and anger would also stop him dwelling on the events at the market. Keep him from falling into melancholy. Sitting in the shadows at night, he'd seen Bickslow toss and turn only to cry out while he slept, sweaty and panicked. Laxus had told him he'd already died once on their little escapade, and while he wouldn't admit it, Vander loved and looked up to his older brother. If he had to sit by his beside annoying him till the end of all time he would, if it meant sparing him the opportunity to relive that kind of horror.

It wasn't as easy as it seemed to aggravate him, though; his brother played the part of a frisky layabout but he took care when it came to that persona, cultivating it with consideration; his family knew him enough to know how seriously he took his magic; his job. Losing control wasn't in his nature.

Vander knew his brother, just like he knew the key to him was laying in the bed, sleeping away the days. She was his new sore spot. Replacing the last tender area which so happened to be the previous failed relationship. When his brother fell, he fell hard, but serious partners just seemed to end in heartache for him.

Vander had caught glimpses of some of the scars on her body, most were faint; you only really saw them if you were really looking closely, but so many were loud, hideous, disfiguring things. Very unattractive on a woman. Even one as obviously dangerous as she seemed. There was a scar on her throat, a long thin line from a blade where her throat had been slit. Not simply cut. No. A blade had been run skillfully from one side around to the other. It was hard to see, but only because there were so many visible ones distracting from it; thick marks on her back that stretched over her shoulders and licked her collar bones. Those were the marks of the Atlan steel tipped whips, and they weren't for punishing. They were methods of execution.

Those kinds of injuries should have been lethal. He wondered when he'd actually find out the truth about her. Natsu laughed at the question. Laxus went totally silent. Bickslow lied. He wagered it must have been good, whatever it was.

While his brother did who knew what in the bathroom, he took his time examining her more closely. Through the fabric on her torso he could make out a large star shaped scar. It sat right underneath the rib cage and it hadn't been caused by a blade. In fact it didn't look like any weapon he'd ever seen; more like she'd been skewered with something barbed. It made him shudder to think of the kind of thing that would have caused that. She shouldn't be alive. Not from any of it.

"Tell me your secrets, warrior woman," He chuckled, eyeing the anti magic cuff. Cutting off her magic was more than likely hindering her healing. After the first day watching them for his father, he'd become convinced that lack of access to her magic was keeping her asleep. There weren't any other injuries he could see.

Vander smirked deviously, looking back to the bathroom door to make sure Bickslow wasn't standing there about to throw something at him, before reaching over her and removing the cuffs.

"Rise and shine, scarella," He whispered.

There was a moment where he experienced the flip, from thinking this was a good idea to instantly knowing he'd just made a terrible, terrible mistake. He felt the change in the air and a jolt like electricity charge painfully into his skin; anxiety hit him square in the gut while a bone deep fear gripped him. He still had her wrist between his fingers when he tried to put the cuff back on, but his hands had started shaking uncontrollably while she spoon fed him absolute terror. He fumbled and dropped the link onto the bed.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath. Knowing now why Bickslow kept the cuffs on her. It wasn't for her benefit, Vander had been right in that, but it had been for everyone else's.

When he looked up, her eyes were open and she was staring at him, wide eyed and completely, deathly furious. It wasn't lost on him that he was sitting over her in the bed restraining her and now trying to reattach anti-magic cuffs.

"I know that this might look bad..."

She shot forward in the bed and headbutted him square in the face.

Bickslow cleaned himself down and topped up the concealer on his face with Alma's borrowed concealments spray. He pulled a few faces in the mirror and shook his head laughing. It was difficult to get used to the sight of himself without the Seith brand. It had become almost as much a part of himself as the magic itself but it was nice not getting stares everywhere he went. If there were now new ways to conceal it, maybe there were also ways to remove it? Maybe someone, somewhere had developed the ability to undo what his homeland had done to him. The thought struck him that he might even be able to move back to Bosco under a different name, if he weren't branded like he was, but he shook his head clear of that. Fairy Tail had been him home for longer than anywhere. Even if he could go back to live out his days in Bosco, he probably wouldn't be able to tear himself from his friends back home.

While he scrutinized his new face, something out in the main room crashed; Bickslow picked out the sound of shattering vases and silently cursed his brother, thinking that the shit was probably using the contents of the room as target practice for his shadow blades. As good as he was up close. As powerful as his magic could be. The guy couldn't hit the back end of a two lane carriage with a thrown blade. Bickslow was the distance fighter in the family.

Pulling on some clean pants and a T-shirt Bickslow emerged only to nearly trip in shock to find his girlfriend, and his brother, grappling in the living room. She'd somehow managed to attach one of her own anti magic cuffs to him and while he currently had her in a headlock, she'd reached up and fisted her hand in his hair, getting a tight enough grip as to force his head painfully back, both of them fighting for an upper hand. Blood was pumping out of Vander's clearly broken nose.

"Ahhhh-HHHEM!" Bickslow announced loudly and two sets of eyes locked on his. Vander paused, hesitating, while Alma used the distraction to her advantage, releasing his hair to elbow him in hard in the nuts. Breaking away from him and breathing hard. Adrenaline fading as her body fought with itself over the urge to sleep and her need to keep fighting.

"Ali, meet my brother, Vander," He waved his hand to the man with wavy black hair curled up on the ground clutching his balls. "Vander, meet my girlfriend, Alma 'the slayer of men'," He punctuated the words so Ali knew they'd be having a serious discussion about her activities in Atla later on.

"You two aren't related by blood..." She said, obviously confused. It was a talent she had with energies. Biological families shared common patterns.

"None of us are. Dad adopted us all. Why the damn family is so ludicrously fucking big, " Bickslow smirked. "There's Pradesh's everywhere. Lift up a rock, oh look, found another one," Bickslow joked. She however looked to be having an internalized panic attack.

"Arman Pradesh? The one that stabbed me?" Bickslow winced at the look of utter red faced embarrassment that slapped her pink when she recalled the meeting that now turned out to be with his father. "Your name...is Bickslow Pradesh. And I've broken your brother's nose. And your father stabbed and poisoned me," She was very pale. "Are there anymore family members I've been inadvertently involved in an altercation with?"

Bickslow shrugged. He really didn't know at this point. In a city of a few million people she'd managed to violently cross paths with his father already. His brother wasn't quite as unexpected. They had a lot in common when it came to annoying people.

While she stared off into space Vander swiped her feet out from under her and she landed heavily on her back, head cracking against the stone painfully. He knelt over her fist raised.

"Go ahead. You may as well end my suffering!" She whispered, staring blankly at the ceiling. What was it she'd told Bickslow about first meetings with his family? She was fairly sure she implied there would be use of self control and possible manners. Certainly not threats and broken faces.

"No fucking mercy killings today, got it?" Bickslow hauled his bloodied brother to his feet by the back of the shirt and offered a blood stained Alma a helping hand to hers, one she took gratefully. Her legs felt shaky as the burst of energy from finding a strange man pinning her to the bed, faded.

At that point the door opened to an unhappy Natsu balancing two trays of food while the Ambassador appeared behind him with what smelled blissfully like coffee in an enormous pot.

Everyone seemed to freeze before Alma and Vander pointed a finger at each other in a unison so perfect it couldn't have possibly been anything but rehearsed.

"He started it!"

"She started it!"

They said, pointing accusingly at each other.

"What the fuck do you mean, I started it?" Ali sneered at him. "You fucking pervert."

"You broke my nose!" He wheezed. The appendage still in fact bleeding.

"Well, being woken up by men I don't know crawling over me results in injury," She growled at him. "You're lucky you still have your fingers," She snapped her jaws menacingly at him; like an animal.

Vander looked at Bickslow, apologetically.

"I was just taking the cuffs off...then realizing what a huge mistake that was, and subsequently putting them back on," He explained.

Bickslow had his face in his hands. It was going about as well as could be expected, given the circumstances.

"Wait, why am I wearing a dress?" Ali was now noticing what she was clothed in and it was clear that the almost sheer little thigh length number wasn't leaving her in any way impressed.

Natsu set down the trays and turned to leave, patting the Ambassador on the arm as he went.

"I've seen how this goes. Good luck!"

"How what goes?" Ambassador Pradesh muttered under his breath as Natsu disappeared. He felt like following the Dragon Slayer out the door and leaving them to it. This was just ridiculous. Was everyone here not an adult, too old to be acting like children?

Just as it looked like the fight was starting over again, a pair of arms lifted Ali off her feet, crushing her back against a warm chest.

"You really think the best way to get back at him is a bloody nose?" Bickslow whispered in her ear making her still. Her entire body relaxing into his grip.

"No. No, I don't," She uttered with a calm breath and a soft knowing smile, sinking against him. His presence was a comfort she hadn't realized she'd missed after waking. But there it was. Urging her to think. To calm down. To laugh.

He set her back down to the ground and planted a kiss on her temple. Vander caught the look she gave him and took off the cuff, disappearing into shadow. Deeply unnerved that as he left the room, invisible to everyone else, her eyes still followed him and not a trace of magic detectable from her.

"How are you feeling?" Bickslow asked.

"Like something's been torn out of me," She said quietly. "Burned out of me."

"Jera?" Bickslow asked.

"No...then again, she's not dead...and if she wasn't burned then neither was her father," She said.

"When did you come to this conclusion?" Bickslow asked. He'd felt her grief. Her shock. That had been real. In the market square she'd been broken by the sight. At that time she'd believed the corpse she'd freed from the stake was Jera.

"I was dreaming of the dead...but she wasn't there. The others were...but her and Eli weren't," She sounded more than a little mad. Bickslow exchanged a subtle look with his father who kept his expression neutral, but he saw the same thought in Arman's eyes.

"Okay, well, we'll keep ourselves open to the possibility," The Seith placated her. Refusing to give her anymore to hurt over. They were all dealing with this in their own way. If she wanted to hold out hope, then he wasn't going to take that from her.

The Ambassador sat down and poured himself some coffee. Savoring the smell but not actually drinking.

"I've made an official request to attend the palace; as a Boscan government official requesting an audience with the King, they won't deny it, they can't, but if there are forces in the King's court plotting with the priests, they may delay us," He seemed all too calm about it. "I'd recommend you get comfortable. The last Ambassador was left waiting two weeks for an audience before. Be under no illusion, we're treated well in this city, but the King is a law unto himself."

Bickslow's father looked tiredly at themstanding and leaving the coffee untouched. "You'll have to excuse me. I haven't slept in days and I've done what I can for the moment," He smirked. "Let the attendants know if you need anything. You've the option to eat here or down with the others. I'd recommend you enjoy the respite while it's available," He said, leaving them considering his words.

The Seith pulled Ali against him as soon as they were alone. There was a lot going on in her aura. A lot of things weighing on her mind.

"That magic, I've never felt anything like it before," He wanted her opinion, but considering the fragile state her mind seemed to be in, he chose his words cautiously.

"That's because it's mindless; whoever made it isn't after control. They want panic. They want fear. Chaos," She uttered. Bickslow had sensed as much himself.

"How did you take in that much evil?" He asked and she laughed at him.

"That's not evil," She assured him. "That's just violence. Pain and suffering. Rage. If there is an evil, it's in whoever made that potion. In the hearts of the ones that released it," She sighed. "Evil isn't this enormous force you fight. It's the quiet voice that tells you lives don't matter. To keep walking. Don't turn around. That it's for the best. To take what you won't be given and use power for personal benefit," She turned and looked him dead in the eye. "The only evil I know, is in here already," Her hand fell over her chest. "Pain...suffering? They're easy. I learned that a long time ago,"

He pulled her against him.

"There's no evil in you," He whispered, cupping her face.

"That's the lie we tell ourselves," Her expression was solemn. "There's evil in all of us."

Bickslow leaned in and kissed her tenderly, feeling her shudder against him, exhausted and trembling. He smiled against her lips, taking one of her hands in his and leading her to back into the bathroom.

"Fine, there's darkness in everyone, I'll deal, but you've had sponge baths for the better part of the week and you need a bath," He laughed, guiding her to the small pool. The water heated deep under ground and piped up; the mineral content too high to drink, this water's only purpose was for bathing.

"Are you accusing me of smelling?" Her tone rose indignantly.

"Yes!" He smirked. "Like old rancid cheese. Now off with the clothes and into the water," He demanded.

"Gods you got pushy while I was sleeping," She joked, but it was easy to see that the idea of a hot bath wasn't something she was going to refuse. "Fine, just no dresses. Find me a clean tunic or something?"

"If it'll get you into that bath, sure!"

He'd never seen her completely naked before and it was difficult not to reach out and pull her to him, lose himself with her. The link between them was calmer than the last time they'd shared any kind of intimacy. It was more reserved now. She was learning to control it, he knew. Choose what she broadcast and didn't.

She sat in the water and groaned. Muscles she hadn't known were aching, cried out in relief. Her eyes closed and when they opened Bickslow was already sinking into the water opposite her holding a sponge in one hand and a bar of soap in the other. When he was with her he didn't need to think about the horrors out there. The Seith wanted to think about anything else for the moment.

He lathered up the sponge and set the soap aside reaching under the water and catching one of her feet, pulling it free.

"What are you doing?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Normally there'd be people to do this for us, but you seem to have this problem with strangers touching you," He cracked a grin. The corner of his mouth twitching as his eyes came up to meet hers. "Wouldn't want any more broken noses today, would we?"

She glared back at him before he started tracing the sponge down her leg and she found her eyes closing of their own accord.

Methodically, he started at her toes and worked the suds down her calf, scrubbing lightly at the skin making her flush and turning her breathing suddenly shallow before bringing himself closer to her, to continue along her thigh all the way to the hip. He could feel how much she wanted more and delighted in the frustration on her face when he pulled back, reaching for her other leg.

"You're such a tease," She muttered under her breath. "Most men would have just bent me over the edge of the bath by now," She glanced at him, laughing.

"Most men wouldn't know how to satisfy a woman if their lives depended on it," He moved her foot up so it rested on his shoulder, the hand with the sponge still clearing small circles on her exposed leg while his free hand traced a light path from her belly button up the entire length of her chest, her throat and chin, tilting her head back softly. She crooned to be treated as gently as she was. He knew that a memory comparable with this, for her, most likely didn't exist. In all the lives she remembered leading, he doubted a man had ever shown her actual care.

"I don't need to take your word on it," Her voice was raspy as her breathing hitched.

When he'd finished with her legs, he moved to her hands and arms, taking both of her hands and sitting them on his shoulders before applying more soap to the sponge and gliding it down one arm, across her chest, circling her breasts and up the other. He felt it start to effect him. That almost urgent need as she began to lose some control. He pulled back to steady himself; try and take back some power over his reactions. Turning her, he washed her back before moving up to her head and washing her hair, massaging his fingers into her scalp.

"So how many women have you bathed?" The question caused Bickslow to pause.

"A few," He answered, somewhat evasively. She turned around to face him.

"That wasn't a loaded question, you know. Clearly the practice has paid off," She punctuated her statement by catching his chin between her fingers and kissing him, pressing herself against his bulging manhood, making him gasp against her.

"I've had a lot of practice with a lot of things," He moved his hands to her hips and pulled her against him, kissing her back harder than before.

It was so contrary to her nature to let someone else take charge but she let him lead her out of the bath and patiently let him dry her off before picking her up and carrying her back out into the living room and into his bedroom, setting her down on the bed. He lay down at her side and traced light fingertips the length of her body drinking in the sight of her tiny reactions. She closed her eyes, smiling as he proved just how well he could navigate the female form. All the sensitive areas that would otherwise get overlooked he targeted with precision. She arched from the bed with a half strangled cry as he toyed with one of her nipples between his teeth.

"So I can get noises out of you," He teased, calming the now hypersensitive peak with his tongue.

"You sound like...you're looking for a challenge?" She gasped with a half delirious smile pulling at her mouth.

She liked to play in bed. He honestly couldn't say how happy it made him to know that.

"Practice makes perfect," Sliding down between her legs he dragged his tongue through her throbbing folds and felt her jerk against his mouth. The feeling surged through him as well and he paused, letting it peak and fade down before continuing. He made her thrash and buck against him as he moved his tongue in a variety of patterns, learning to use the connection she'd established with him to tell the best ways to drive her out of her mind.

It was more satisfying when it was someone he loved. He wanted to see her happy. Wanted to give her everything she'd been missing out on. Sex was otherwise just so empty with out it.

She clutched at him desperately when he moved up her body and kissed her, sliding himself between her legs, and feeling that all encompassing warmth grip him, hot and throbbing. He kissed her mouth and her jaw, her neck and shoulders as he started a soft easy rhythm. Her ankles locking behind his back as she gasped, breathlessly with each movement. He could feel her building to orgasm again. A torturously slow wind that seemed to mirror his own.

She whined something then under her breath that he didn't hear and he pulled his head back to look at her, not breaking his rhythm.

She reached up and fisted a hand in his hair, tugging lightly.

"Harder!" The word had barely left her lips before the next thrust drove the air out of her lungs and gave Bickslow his first cry. Her hips rose to meet his while her hands pawed at his back. Sensations began to escalate between them. The limited control over the connection failing; it was growing harder to distinguish one feeling from another but Bickslow didn't care; happy to lose himself in it at last. He felt her plateau, the cusp of an orgasm that pulled him with her into oblivion.

He collapsed laughing, sweaty and sated for only a minute before he felt a further need. He groaned, feeling himself hardening again before a pair of strong hands flipped him in the bed, pinning him to the mattress.

Alma smirked down at him as she moved her hands to his, holding the limbs in place. Bickslow was confused for a second before he felt her clench down on him, the act making him thrust up into her reflexively; she hadn't moved the rest of her body so much as an inch. When she did start to move over him he closed his eyes and ushered a prayer thanking whatever deity had led him to her because he was sure he was all but ruined for everyone else. She drove herself down over him again and again, releasing his hands to do what they pleased while the muscles at her core flexed and squeezed him almost to the point of pain. Almost. He pinched her nipples between his fingers and grinned when it caused her entire body to jolt. Suddenly distracted from what she was doing, Bickslow took the opportunity to sit up, wrapping his arms around her to keep her steady, keep them connected, as she now found herself in his lap. He tilted her torso back a little and brought his mouth to bear on one breast then another. Moving his hands to her hips he helped them maintain a brutal rhythm while he all but tormented her. Her chest was the most sensitive part. He could feel it; now growing somewhat accustomed to the feedback from her. It wasn't like before, whatever had happened he felt more in control over it. It no longer overwhelmed him. It felt natural.

The only thing he had no control over was climax, with him buried inside her, one orgasm inadvertently caused the other. It was virtually impossible to avoid. This time however it was his own that hit first and rocked through her making her scream.

He caught her in his arms when she fell bonelessly to the side. Bickslow ran his tongue up her neck along her sweat soaked skin, sucking her earlobe in between his teeth and tugging firmly.

"That...was worth waiting for," He couldn't stop smiling even if he tried.

"I think... I need to go clean up again," When she kissed him she told him without words what he meant to her. It practically radiated from her.

"Gods, I have never loved any woman like I love you!" He purred to her.

"Even though your father hates me and I broke your brothers nose?" She laughed sheepishly.

"My father doesn't hate you, and Vander periodically needs his nose broken. Reminds him it actually breaks. The way he goes around, he seems to think he's indestructible," Bickslow assured her. "Dad was actually hoping for a redo on the first meeting. He's convinced he's going to end up having a daughter in-law with a grudge against him."

"Well, its only a little one," She conceded and Bickslow stilled.

"You are not exacting some petty vengeance against my father," His tone was serious. "Am I clear?" It sounded like an order. That seemed to rankle her more than anything.

"He almost killed me!" She narrowed her eyes at him. "And I do what I want. You think just because I love you I'm somehow going to do roll over like a dog because you tell me to?" She seemed a little insulted by the implication. "I have no intention of harming him. When have I ever actually harmed any of them?" He felt there should have been an add-on of 'except your brother' but didn't want to push the topic.

Ali pushed herself away from him and slipped out of the bed. "If you ask me to let something go, I'll let it go. But I'm no ones to command! Remember that!" Her eyes drifted about the room. Locking on a place by the mirror. "And sneak in here again and I'll break more than your nose, pervert." She picked up a lamp and threw it across the room, smashing the mirror. The Seith could see the shadows ripple momentarily and he bolted up out of the bed.

He watched his brother reappear out of the shadows, now knowing he'd been caught; always a risk when spying on Bickslow, apparently a certainty now, if Ali was with him.

She stormed his way, stealing one of Bickslow's shirts on her path to the bathroom, turning to snarl viciously at Vander as she passed.

"Don't think I'm joking!"

"Don't think I'm intimidated!" He snapped back angrily. Confused when she smiled.

"Hah, got you!" As she disappeared into the living room they all heard her sing song reply.

With a mind reader, a Seith, a spy and a Boscan dignitary in the family, learning to put up blocks was a skill they all eventually acquired, but strong emotion made those walls drop. Something like anger left him wide open. It was one of the reasons some people thought Ali was intentionally aggravating. The truth was, they were right, but there was often a purpose behind it. Vander wouldn't be aware of what she'd done to him; his own temper masking her machinations.

"Your fucking girlfriend is a lunatic," He rasped, a little concerned by her parting words. "Where'd you pick her up, anyway?"

"She's basically a demon that crawled out of the well of souls on a mission of vengeance and was exposed to the lacrima of inner truth," Bickslow deadpanned.

Vander laughed at him. Bickslow was sticking to the same lie as before..

"Fine, don't tell me, then. Don't really care that much anyway," He ground out, still irritated, but now for new reasons.

"What the hell are you even doing here?" Bickslow asked. "Have you really screwed your way through the female population already, that you've gotta be spying on me?"

"Not yet. Not that the bit I caught wasn't a hell of a show, but dad sent me up here to get the both of you as soon as you were...eh free!" Vander teased him.

He'd been under the impression his father was going to retire for the evening. Something must have come up if that had changed.

"And you really had to stay and watch. You couldn't wait outside till we were done?" Bickslow wasn't sure he wanted his brothers' answer so he shook his head and held up a hand. He just hoped whatever Ali did to him was good. "Forget it, don't tell me. Just give me a minute," They weren't necessarily shy around these types of things. Nudity. Sex. It wasn't considered unnatural or sinful in Bosco. Though, Bickslow rankled at the lack of privacy.

And then a thought struck him. Bickslow pausing for a second to consider; just how long exactly had Ali known Vander was there watching?

"That's a pretty strange expression you're rocking there, Bix," His brother remarked.

Bickslow realized his jaw had gone slack and he was staring off into space.

"She has fucking kinks..." He muttered under his breath.