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October 8 - October 9, 2023
nose. “We don’t disparage ourselves,” he grunts. We save that for the people we murder. Fox reads my text and kisses the side of my head. “That’s right.”
Dakota gives his husband a wicked grin and dip-kisses him right in front of the front door, inches away from Bellamy, and close enough to me that I can basically feel their love in my dic—heart. In my heart. I’m not turned on by two of the hottest men alive kissing like they’re about to go find a private corner; you are. These are my future in-laws.
Bear is the human donor to Fox’s genetics, and he lives up to his name. He also looks like Thor and Captain America had a baby with Superman.
I’m fine with bloody massacres, but I’m no one’s first choice for dressing bloody wounds. I accept this weird dichotomy of my character just like I accept all my other idiosyncrasies. Self-acceptance is an important step to living a happy life, trust me.
I have way too much empathy for the victims to have any mercy left over for the victimizers. If that makes me a little bit psycho, I’m ok with that.
“Home.” I will never not love the sound of that word out of his mouth. The no-longer-homeless mute boy loves knowing he has a place he belongs.
He presses his lips to mine, sweeps his tongue across the seam of my lips, and then mauls me in the sexiest, most possessive display of mine I’ve ever experienced. Damn, I love being the love of this man’s life. He never lets me feel unwanted, and since that’s how I felt for most of my life, it’s a cozy security blanket to have wrapped around me now.
As a species, we are one bad coping mechanism away from extinction. Why hasn’t some other smarter species taken over the world yet? I feel like humans could have benefited from a nanny when we were growing up.
My eyes and expression say, I fucking love you, and the bulge in my pants says, I love fucking you, and I’m so glad I get to make good on the promise in my kiss.
It’s a weak argument, but it’s hard to let go of the things from my old life, because I know those things work in a worst case scenario. The things I own now haven’t yet proven themselves should the bottom fall out of the life I’m currently living. I know that I’m the adaptable one and the things are not what will make or break me, but dammit, you can’t logic away an emotional bond like the one I’ve forged with my stuff.
He’s my favorite person on this planet, and I hope I never lose my excitement at his touch. Have you ever just gotten lost in the wonder of your partner? Sometimes, I look at Fox, and yeah, I can see how very average he is physically, but all that normalcy is completely overshadowed by the wonder that exists below the surface, and I just get lost in him. He entrances me.
When did he have time to learn Sasquatchish. Sasquatchese? Saskatchewan? No wait, that’s a province in Canada… Point being, did my kid spend time with the Skunk Apes of the Appalachians? And does he have an accent if he did? I think this is important to know! Does Bellamy have an accent in Sasquatchian?
I’m thinking that maybe I should take Fox’s idea and just refer to everyone in my head as a they/them until they make it clear what their pronouns are. Seems respectful and less chance of making an asshole of myself.
What’s your name? “Yeah, I’m not telling you that. I’m getting paid to drive you; I’m not giving away any kind of information that could be used to find me when you’re done killing random people.” Ok. We’re going to call you Buttercup. Because that sounds as ridiculous as his reasoning for not sharing his name. “Sure. Call me Buttercup,” the driver deadpans. Bellamy quietly huffs a laugh beside me, making no attempt to hide his amusement. “Onward, Buttercup. There’s fuckery to spread.”
“Romily is my soul’s mate.” Aww. Heart eyes. “Bellamy is the son of my heart. Give my son his IMMORTALITY!”
I’ve never for a single second doubted Fox, but watching him literally put his money where his mouth is, seeing him do everything in his power to keep our family as safe and intact as he can in this situation—well, there was a tiny, tense ball of anxiety inside me that melted into a puddle of less anxiety after that. It was super tiny. Like, not even noticeable, which is probably why I’ve been on edge but didn’t really understand the reason. It’s like that whole having a house thing.
So yes, life did the thing it always does to me. It took what’s mine away by force. But guess what, fuckers. Whoever took Bellamy can suck my dick because Fox isn’t going to let them keep what they’ve taken from me. I’m safe and my treasures are safe, because Fox is making us safe.
“I have plenty of room in the basement, and we still have three units we can expand into, which if you keep bringing people home, we’re going to need.” Fox doesn’t say this as a criticism of me; he’s making plans. He needs tables, and I need people. He’s planning for both.
Convenient, amiright? Convenient enough for an overarching plot line in a multi-book series. *side eye*
Foxilys. Ha! I should have thought of that ship name myself.
We’re evolution’s version of that one mistake we all make that haunts us for the rest of our lives.
