What would you do?

The brain is still the brain slug host's largest erogenous zone. While they do not speak, they listen, they process speech. Moans excite them. Dirty talk can encourage them. Safe words can be used and heard. Sometimes, they enjoy just listening to their favorite people.
—How To Talk To Brain Slugs, Chapter 5: Hearing

"Mel? Why are you standing in the hallway?"

He blinked, turned. Anastasia. Dark eyes, dark hair. Mel's height, so he didn't have to crane his neck up to look her in the face. She smelled like stale coffee, the green barista's apron peeking out of the green bag slung on her shoulder.

"Um, sorry," Mel said, and gestured at the door to 501. "I walked in on my roommate making out with your roommate. I thought I'd better give them space."

Anastasia's eyes widened. She nodded slowly.

"Would you like some tea?"

Which is how Mel found himself back inside apartment 502, seated at the table where Antonio had once served him escargot. The space still looked largely the same, except that Anastasia or Rachel had set up a little half-table against one wall, on which were arranged a small brass chalice, a matching brass saucer on which rested a chunk of pink rock salt, a dagger that looked like it had been made from a railroad tie, a black and white candle in old brass holders, and a leather-bound journal, tied with a thong. There was also a tin of loose tea and two tea cups, one black and one white, which Anastasia fetched to the kitchen.

Anastasia poured loose tea and, after the kettle whistled, poured the steaming water into the cups and covered them. As she sat down, her dark bra visible through the white t-shirt she wore, he noted the chipped black nails, the bags under her eyes. She looked, Mel decided, almost as tired as he felt.

The few minutes off his feet gave Mel time to re-run the scene in his head. Rachel, her eyes closed, lips locked. Soong, on top of her, naked and pale, one hand up under Rachel's shirt. Phosphorescent eyes raised to meet his. Mel could almost picture a finger circling a nipple. Mel had been so engrossed by the sight that he hadn't even registered where Jordan was. In the bedroom? The bathroom? Had she been watching? The whole scene had been like something out of Slug Fucker Monthly.

"Just get off your shift?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said. "Night shift. You?" Mel replied.

"Yeah. I get the morning rush. Classes in the afternoon," she said.

"What's your major?" Mel asked because he felt that's what you were supposed to ask.

"Undecided," Anastasia replied. She stared Mel in the eye. "Would you kiss another guy?"

Mel blinked. Unprepared. Defenseless.

"I don't know," he said. "I mean, it's never really been an option."

"But seeing two women kiss upset you?" Anastasia pressed. "Because your dick seems to think it's awesome."

Mel stared down through the clear glass tabletop. The tip of his prick was just visible, poking out of his waistband. Again. Mel's cheeks burned. He pulled out his shirt to hide the erection. Anastasia smirked as she took the lids off the tea cups, now filled with pale amber.

"It's not about that," Mel said. "I'm not homophobic. I just wasn't sure how to react. Didn't feel right to just stand there and watch."

He tried his tea. It was a first for him. The first sensation was simply the heat, hot but not burning his tongue. Then the scent, like licorice. The flavor that followed wasn't quite like sucking on a licorice drop, though. No sweetness, maybe even a little bitter, with an herbal taste that reminded him of fresh-cut grass.

Anastasia watched him before she tasted her own.

"First time trying tea?" she asked.

"Yeah," Mel admitted, with another small, cautious sip. It wasn't bad. Probably better for him than the sodas he drank at work.

"You get used to it. So you're okay with Rachel kissing girls?" Anastasia said, after a slow sip.

Mel blinked.

"Yeah. I mean, if that's what she wants to do. I'm not—we're not—" he sighed. This whole conversation felt like a trap. "Her sister is my roommate. Rachel and I are friends. I mean, what would you do if you walked into the apartment and Rachel was making out with someone else?"

"Probably leave, then have a long conversation afterwards about setting boundaries and leaving a sign on the door," Anastasia said. Then she gave Mel a wicked little grin. "Or maybe I'd ask to join in."

Mel raised his eyebrows. "Have you done that before?"

"Kissed a girl? Yes. Kissed boys, too. Threeway? Not yet," Anastasia admitted. "But, you know. College is supposed to be a time for experimentation. Sowing the wild oats."

Another sip of tea. It was sort of growing on him.

"What would you do?" Anastasia asked. "If they had asked you to join?"

He set the cup down and shifted his butt on the seat. Uncomfortably aware of how her eyes kept staring through the tabletop, as if his crotch rocket would make an encore appearance.

"Probably get undressed and ask what they wanted me to do," Mel said. He wondered if that was oversharing.

Anastasia didn't seem to think so.

"So if Rachel asked you to kiss her—would you?" she asked.

The sigh came from the depths of Mel's soul.

"I would hesitate," Mel said. "And wonder what Jordan would think. Rachel's not my roommate. I have to live with Jordan and Soong. If everybody is cool with it, then it's fine. But I don't want to hurt anybody's feelings."

"Can't go through life without hurting someone's feelings, dude," she said somberly. Then she nodded at his cup. "Finish your tea. I want to see something."

Mel frowned, but raised the cup. There was enough left for a decent gulp, and he gulped. The loose leaves pressed against his lips, and Mel had to be careful to avoid them getting caught in his teeth. A pleasant warm pool in his stomach as he set the cup down.

Anastasia reached over and took it. She ran one chipped black nail around the rim of the cup, and stared at the black, wet leaves on the bottom of the empty cup. Mel had the odd impression she wasn't really seeing them.

"Your tea leaves say there's love in your future," Anastasia said. Then her eyes shifted from the tea leaves and focused on him. "I found Tony's diary. The things he wrote about Soong. What he did to her. He was my own brother, but he was an asshole. If Soong is happy kissing someone else, then I'm happy for her. And if Rachel can kiss whoever she wants."

Mel was quiet. "I'm sorry about your brother. I didn't want to hurt him. I just wanted him to stop hurting her."

"And I'm glad about that," Anastasia said. "He had all these fantasies. That she would be this perfect subordinate slut for him. That she would live for his cock. That he could do anything he wanted to her. It was creepy, reading my own brother's fantasies. I didn't realize how sick he'd gotten. People are so good at hiding who they really are, just showing the world what they want to see. You know, he thought you two could be friends?"

"No, I didn't know that," Mel said. "I mean, he tried to be friendly, in his own way, but the vibe was off."

Anastasia nodded. "Tony wanted you to be slug fucker buddies. Wanted to pump his dick into Jordan while watching you screw Soong. Thought you would come around to it, be like him. So he wouldn't be so alone."

"Oh," Mel said. He hadn't really felt anything when he heard Antonio was gone, but now he felt sad for him. And he wondered if, maybe, that was the road not taken. If he could have ended up like Tony if he'd read all those magazines and actually believed them. "I'm not like that. I don't want to control them."

They were quiet for a long moment, both thinking of someone lost and gone forever.

"So if your roommates were cool with you kissing a guy, would you?" Anastasia asked.

Heat burned on Mel's cheeks. He remembered the touch of Tomie's tongue on the back of his neck. Mel didn't know, but he strongly suspected that maybe Tomie was trans. Not exactly a guy. But if Jordan wanted him to kiss her—

"Yeah, probably," Mel said.

Anastasia's smile was gigantic. "That's hot. But while you're trying to sort out your feelings about Rachel kissing one of your roommates, there's a question you aren't asking: how do you think Rachel feels about you kissing other people?"

Mel didn't have an immediate answer to that. After all, he didn't know how much Rachel had told her roommate. He didn't know if Anastasia knew about Jordan and Soong and—

"I—um—we haven't talked about that. I mean, why would she—" he said.

"Yes," Anastasia pressed. "Why would she feel something when she sees you walking around with a massive hickey? I mean, how do you think she would feel if she walked in right now and found me making out with you?"

His fingers rubbed at the hickey on his neck. His brain imagined her getting up, circling around the table. What would he do? Run away? He had told Tomie no that one time. Could he do it again? Mel did his best not to let his eyes drop to her chest, but his crotch throbbed as his brain filled in the shape of those breasts, those shoulders. Anastasia noted his hesitation, the look on his face, and her eyes narrowed.

"I'm starting to think," Anastasia said. "That you've been a little spoiled. You never had to work to attract someone, have you? Never needed to put yourself out there. You're big on getting permission, but not on showing initiative. Keep waiting for things to happen to you instead of going out and making them happen."

Mel winced.

"I'm trying to be better about that. It's not that easy. I'm new to all this relationship stuff, still learning, trying not to be a jerk," he said.

There was more he wanted to say, though he wasn't sure how much Anastasia knew, or how much he should say. Yet he had to admit she was right. Mel hadn't considered Rachel's feelings as she watched her sister ride his face. Or caught him, cuddled up naked between Jordan and Soong on the floor. It had seemed, at the time, an impossible situation. What was he supposed to do—lock the doors to keep Rachel out? Or ask if she wanted to join them?

That thought stopped him. He hadn't really thought about asking Rachel to join in. He'd been so focused on Jordan and Soong, and he'd thought Rachel was too, that he hadn't considered whether she might be jealous. What was it Ha-Yoon had said about sisters shopping in each other's closets? Was that it? Was Rachel jealous—or was she actually attracted to him?

Hell, Mel thought. Maybe we're both just horny idiots.

"What has Rachel told you about me, exactly?"

"I offered to interpret one of her dreams," Anastasia said. "She was tired. Upset. Not angry, not hurt, but confused. Rachel was hesitant. Didn't want to share; it was so personal. It was a kind of sex dream. I told her I wouldn't judge her, that dreams are messages for us to read and interpret. She told me she had this dream about having a brain slug on her neck, puppeting her so that she had no control of her body. Like she was watching as she went into your room, where you were on the bed, naked, hard. How it made her bend over and suck your di—"

Then the door squeaked open, and Rachel stumbled in. Hair disheveled. Chapstick smeared. Her bra was apparently gone, breasts moving beneath her t-shirt free and uncontained. She blinked and saw Mel and Anastasia at the table.

"Hey," the blonde said. The unasked question: Why are you here? hung in the air, but as Rachel looked from Mel to Anastasia and back again, she said. "So, um, Melville and I need to talk."

Anastasia rose from the table, a cup in each hand, a smile on her face.

"Understood. I need a shower anyway."

Rachel sat down in the seat that Anastasia had vacated. She sat with her hands between her knees as her roommate rinsed out the cups, then stepped into the bathroom. Neither of them said anything until the water actually started.

"So, um. Something happened," Rachel said. Mel blinked, as even across the table he detected a very familiar scent. Slightly fishy. The same smell Mel had carried on his skin down to the laundry room the other day.

"Tell me about it," he said.