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“I am! Did you not see me carrying him in from the woods, cutting him reels and reels of endless slack? He is currently lying on a bed that I’m supposed to be sleeping in, comfortably swaddled in all the slack that I am giving him.”
“I’ve got you now, buddy. You’re stuck with me,” he murmurs in my ear. Something in my chest cracks open so my guts and my heart and everything else can spill out onto the floor. “Okay.”
“So, Silas, what’s your deal? Girls? Guys? Threesomes? Pet play? You have but to name it, and I shall try to acquire it for you.”
“Fuck, Sky, I brought a friend home. Can you please try to act like you haven’t been raised by a biker gang?”
Part of me knows everything is about to change, and I should be worried, but it all feels too good for me to care. Seeing him spread out underneath me, desperate and wanting like this, it’s already changed me.
No wonder no one goes to the doctor, because even if you have health insurance, that shit is a nightmare of bureaucracy guaranteed to give you new mental health issues before you can even treat the ones you have.
