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Was it wrong of me to be staring at a monster’s ass? I was pretty sure the answer to that, if I asked anyone in this camp, would be a resounding yes. Maybe a hell yes. Probably a what the fuck is wrong with you, dude?
not me babes x
What if there were beasties who could hear your thoughts or something? I decided to test it. Take your pants off, I projected down at him, staring at that weird cage. Show me your dick. I haven’t seen a dick except my own in so long, man. No one has to know. He didn’t react.
“You are my Androcles.” I grinned shakily even as I asked, “Who?” He chuckled. “The slave who pulled the thorn from the lion’s paw.” “Oh.” I had only vague recollections of the story, but I still flushed with pleasure. “And like the lion,”—Gloam reached out and cupped my chin—“I will be loyal to you always, my Adam. I will never leave your side.”
“I am your lion,” he said, his deep voice low, his words just for me. “Loyal to you until the end.”
“We’re the best. Monsterfuckers and proud of it.”
I decided then and there that I was definitely going to start trusting my intuition more. Because all those weeks ago, when I’d sat on the camp wall staring at Gloam and decided he had to have a biteable ass under those leather pants, I’d been right.
