Disclaimer: This is a work of science fiction/fantasy. None of the characters are real or based on real people. The author holds no responsibility for any similarities readers find to real life. All characters engaged in sexual acts are of legal age. Please do not copy this story or ideas without the author's permission.
Today has been a very strange day for me as it is the first one I can remember where I was awakened by silence. Looking over at the Birds of North America clock on the wall, I can barely tell that it says 5:30 am. That shocks me because I can't remember the last time I slept in past 3:00 am. Now at this point, a normal person would neither just go back to sleep or get up and get dressed and go running or swimming or biking or whatever the fuck motivated people do in the mornings. I should ask Manda what she does on mornings like these. She probably does yoga or pilates then follows it up with oatmeal and egg whites. I could do yoga. I'd probably be really good at it, I'm flexible enough but the overly soothing voice yoga instructors use makes me anxious. I should probably get up now and do something productive like start breakfast or do laundry but I don't. Instead, I get out of the very warm and comfy bed that I spent last night in, find a shirt and head outside.
The sky is gray and cloudy with the rising sun in the background creating a contrast of gray and orange and pink. It's windy and cool and the air tastes like salt which makes sense as I'm literally fifty or so feet from the beach. I leave the balcony and head out onto the sand which is the same temperature as the wind, too fucking cold for normal people but I don't feel or I can't feel it. I still haven't figured that out yet. To me, it feels like a tropical day in some island paradise. The air is clean and fresh and warm. The sand is just the right heat from the sun and chances were if I went into the water, it would feel just the right temperature, somewhere between bath and hot tub warm. And because it feels so damn pleasant, I just stand there, in the cold morning air, on the cold morning beach, alone with nothing on but a too large shirt that isn't even buttoned up scenting the rain that was promised last night on the news and the most important thing is the silence. I don't hear anything. Anything at all. I'm so fucking happy I could sing or dance or cry but I won't because then I might wake up because this has to be a dream. There is no way this is a real life and then I feel it. The feeling of a weight on my hand that wasn't there before. A weight I'm still not sure I should have. I look down at my left hand and see the weight, a gold and titanium ring made by some designer in France or Italy or Russia for all I know that probably costs more than my soul and then some. Looking at the ring in the morning light makes me want to cry more or throw up because the ring is proof that this isn't a dream and that I am awake and that for the first time in what felt like forever, I actually slept a full night and I don't feel like death warmed over and more importantly, there is silence. Perfect beautiful silence.
"Ya Know, if it was sex on the beach you wanted, I would be more than happy to comply." A deep and rich voice says behind me as one massive arm puts me in a headlock and drags me back till a hit a brick wall. The voice continues "Though I request that we don't do it right before it rains. I don't want ya getting wet sand up your ass."
"Thank you so much for your consideration." I say which not nearly as much snark as I would have only a few months ago. The arm around my neck tightens but not in a threatening way. It's more of a show that anything else though I can still feel all the muscles in the massive biceps and forearms. I feel the warm strength of well developed pectoral muscles that would make Mr. Universe envious and I can hear the strong and clear sound of a heartbeat that could rival a drum line. The almost overwhelming scent of sweat and musk and sex fills my nose and I want to drown in it. It's more proof that this is real. I feel warm and rough lips on my exposed neck and the voice becomes huskier, more raw as it leaves kisses over the bite marks made last night.
"I love seeing you in my stuff. I love knowing my scent is all over you, marking you and telling the world you're mine. I might just make you wear my underwear too." I feel teeth gently bite and nip my ear as the person behind me speaks.
"The problem with that idea," I say as I reach behind me and grab hold of the thing poking me in the ass "Is that your underwear is stretched out by this monster and won't fit me." I hear a laugh and then a hand gently grabs my exposed penis and balls.
"I don't know, you're pretty big for a little guy. You might fit mine." The person begins to gently fondle them as I do my best to tease the monster behind me. I'm getting hard in public on a beach with another naked man behind me turning this into some porn scenario and I don't care one damn bit. This is turning out to be the best morning of my life. The hand stops before I accidently cream and I feel more kisses then suddenly, I'm lifted into the air and come face to face with the man behind me as he moves me into a bridal carry in his arms. He isn't the traditional handsome, the eyepatch ruins that but he is very rugged looking. His short hair is down and not in the usual slicked back or fauxhawk, he has a strong and square jaw with five-day scruff around it. His nose has been broken a few too many times and a rather bushy mustache sits under it. His one good eye is the purest green I have ever seen and it looks at me as if I am the greatest wonder in the universe. He brings his rough lips to mine in a kiss and I eagerly return it throwing my arms around his neck. He slips his tongue and I meet it, twirl it and play with it in a deep and passionate french kiss. I love kissing him. We stand there, kissing as the sky turns gray and blue as the sun rises. As we require air to breathe, we are forced to part and he looks at me with a look I never thought I'd see. He speaks first.
"Good Morning my husband."
"Good morning my husband." I return the greeting as he turns and makes his way back into our home.
Home. This house is my home. This place with its four walls and ceiling and rooms with beds is my home. That is such a strange concept to me. It's not like I don't understand the concept, I do, it's just it never really applied to me before and now it does. I have a home and someone who wants to share it with me for the rest of our lives, however long that may be. My husband doesn't take me into the bedroom where he would ravish me on our bed. Our bed, that's another thing I need to remember. It's our bed now. Where was I? Oh right. He doesn't take me into the bedroom but into the kitchen.
"Are we having kitchen sex? If we are, I need to make sure we have plenty of cleaning solution. I won't allow you to eat where I have sweated and made a mess" He smiles at me with a fond exasperation.
"Do you ever stop worrying about other people. If we have kitchen sex, then we have kitchen sex and I would be proud to eat where I brought you pleasure."
"Yes but..." He gives me a stern look.
"I'm the big dog here and what I say goes, and I say no buts." He squeezes my ass."Except this one." I'm fairly certain that if I was a woman, I would slap him and huff indignantly but all I can do is nod and smile because he makes me so damn happy. He places me on the large island in the middle of the kitchen and moves to the fridge. "Now then, sweet cakes, let me show you how a real man provides for his mate." He says this last bit with a growl and I giggle. Giggle. Like I'm some sort of love-struck middle schooler and he's the popular kid at school. I'd slap myself if there were two of me. The big dog gets out eggs, various breakfast meats, cheese, and vegetables. He gets out a couple of pots and pans and turns on the oven. He smiles at me as he preps the ingredients. "What do you feel up fo. I was thinking some lumberjacks if you'll make the flapjacks."
"That sounds delicious, where's the Bisquick?" He gives me a grin and moves to find. I get off the island and make my way through the house to the front door. I didn't need to open it to know who it was. I never do. I open it still only wearing the button down shirt that is completely opened.
"Good morning." The woman starts "My name is..." I hold up my hand to stop her.
"Before you start on anything Linda Dudley, let me say no. No, I am not interested in your reading material. I have already read it and honestly found it lacking in information and did not make any convincing arguments. No, I am not interested in talking to you about how I felt about it. No, I don't care how many people are joining your cult. No, I will not sign up for anything and No you may not talk to the man of the house. Any other questions?" I think I managed a smile. The woman, Linda, gives me that deer in headlights look as she attempts to scramble her thoughts together. I beat her to it. "Listen, Linda. I get it. You married into the church young and now you're going door to door because you have been convinced that it's necessary that you do because you're husband is running for a position on the council but let me give you a bit of advice." I motion for her to come closer and she does. I begin to whisper. "None of this matters. You'll be much happier if you leave him now before he gets you pregnant." I drop my voice, wanting to make sure this last part sticks nice and deep in her mind for a good long while "There's nothing wrong with wanting to be a man Linda. Use your grandmother's money and make yourself happy for once." With that, I slam the door, hearing a choked "Thank you" behind me.
I return to the kitchen to find the Bisquick on the island and my Man, he insists I call him that, frying up bacon and sausage. I should probably be concerned about him doing that naked but his job is far more dangerous and there are enough scars on his body that a few more wouldn't bother him.
"Who was at the door?" He asks as he cracks eggs into the cast iron skillet next to the meat.
"A Mormon or maybe a Jehovah witness, either way, I'm sure I gave her more to think about than she could have given me." He looks at me with a mildly pointed stare.
"You didn't do anything permanent did ya?" I shrug.
"Nothing she didn't really want or need already." He accepts this and turns the burner on low and walks over to me. He pulls me close and kisses me hard and passionate again as I trying to prove that I'm really there. I don't struggle or stop him, I've learned that despite how hard I might try, I can never pull myself away from him and besides, I want to prove this is real as well.
"I love ya, ya punk," I smile at the old name.
"I love you more, you old mad dog." He snorts and kisses me again.
"Who ya calling old. I ain't even forty yet." He removes one arm from around me and flexes his bicep, showing off the impressive muscles he's worked so long and hard for. He doesn't have the body of a body builder. His is far more impressive. He has the body of a hero. I want to worship every single inch of muscle on him, to drown in the manliness I will never have and know that I will always be safe with him. He made me that promise and I know he'll always keep it to the best of his ability. He lets me go and moves back to his skillet.
"Now, why don't you be a good boy and make those flap jacks." I smile and move to get a bowl from a cupboard.
It doesn't take much time and soon I have quite a stack of fresh and fluffy pancakes for my husband. I look over and see that he has left the skillet unattended, probably to go put on pants and that the skillet is starting to turn red. Without thinking, I grab it off the stove and hold it, not wanting to mar the island top. I suspect that the skillet is too hot to handle since it had the faintest traces of bright red but I don't notice. Or maybe it's I can't notice. Either way, I just stand there with the skillet waiting for it to cool down enough for me to set it down.
"Fuck!" I hear from the bedroom and I turn to see my Man looking at me holding the burning hot skillet in my hands. He moves slowly as if not to frighten me. "I'm sorry babe, I thought I turned the heat off." I shrug.
"It's alright, It's not bad." And It's not. I can't even tell that it's hot. With normal people, that probably means there's nerve damage from the severe burns but when I put the skillet down, my hands are as clean and white as they usually are. A little red maybe but that will fad. It always does. The food smells delicious and I move about, looking for plates and cutlery. Living in a house maybe a new experience for me but I had proper manners practically beaten into me. I feel my husband behind me as he wraps his arms around me again. He whispers into my head.
"What'cha doing?"
"Looking for plates, what else?" I laugh at the feeling of his scruff on my scalp. My hair still hasn't grown back completely and all I have now is makes me look like I was in the military or something. I wasn't but that what it looks like.
"I see, well I have something far more interesting." My curiosity is piqued.
"Really, what?" He turns me around and gets on one knee. I laugh. "I think you might have forgotten but were already married you goof." He smiles and holds up a small box, too big for a ring but I recognize it almost instantly. It takes almost everything I have not to start sobbing on the spot. Still, my eyes are filling with tears. "You kept it?" He nods and grins and I open the box. Inside is exactly what I thought it was. A beautiful string of natural pearls. I can't bring myself to touch them. My Man stands up and with a lot more ease than I thought possible, manages to get the string around my neck. I look at him. "Why though?"
"Because I owe them a great debt." I look at him confused. He gives me what passes for a tender smile for him. He's too rough looking for smiling to be easy and not like like he was planning on killing you but I know what it is. I smile back still confused. He wraps his arms around me and kisses my head. "This one string of pearls brought you into my life, Punk, and I'll always be grateful to them for that. We may have had our ups and downs and hit rock bottom a few times but here we are and it's all thanks to these pearls." He kisses me again. I don't know what to say so I remain quiet. I forget about the plates and grab two forks while my husband grabs a beer from the fridge for him and milk for me. We start breakfast and it is wonderful.
Breakfast is just ending when my wonderful and perfect silence is broken by the faint sound of jazz music. I want to squirm but I look over at my husband.
"You're being summoned." He swears something I don't understand and angrily gets up and moves into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. I don't need to hear him to know what is being said. After all, I've been waiting for this moment for almost six months. My husband leaves the bedroom a few minutes later, wearing his uniform. The black titanium threads of his shirt and pants cling to him like a second skin and show off his heroic build beautifully. He isn't wearing his hood, yet, and gives me a pained smiled.
"You probably know who that was." I nod.
"They found him I'm guessing." He nods, anger smoldering in his eyes. "And you want me to stay here because he doesn't know about this place." He nods again. I'm good at this game. The "Let me guess what you're thinking" game. I'm the world champ. He moves over to me and I feel the intensity of his mood. His voice has gotten darker, rougher, tougher. It always does when he has to go to work. His next words sound like a threat but they bring me unending comfort.
"I'm going end him. No matter what happens today or what the others say, I won't let him bother you ever again. It's the end game baby and I'm walking home the champion." His old school, tough guy, Dick Tracy-esque accent is in full assault mode and I feel lust swelling in my belly. I want him to take me right there and fuck me like a beast in heat. But that would be irresponsible, so all I do is give a nod and kiss him as hard and as lovingly as I can. When we finally break apart, he removes his eyepatch, puts on is black hood and leaves the house. A deep black energy surrounds him as he squats, jumps and flies towards wherever he is needed. I watch him leave, hope and terror battling for dominance in me. I want this to end but I'm far too scared of my Man getting hurt.
I don't need to see the caller ID on my cell phone to know who is calling. After all, I'm not the only one who has been waiting for this day. I only hope that my Man, my husband, my Obsidian Knight will be victorious. Hope is all I can do because I'm only the Secondary aspect of the Phoenix and I can't see the future, I can only read minds. I clutch at the pearls as if they were prayer beads and whisper the words that had been in my head for almost seven years before last Christmas. "He has to die. To save us all, the Alchemist has to die."
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