Chapter 3 #2
“Of course I fucking did,” I reply, tsking and rolling my eyes at his stupid question. “Where else was I going to sleep? And you know I don't like PJs.”
“It's my fucking bed, Jude!” Aeron shouts, rising from his seat at the dining table, his glare focused on me. His laptop sits on the glass tabletop, his phone placed next to it, but it’s the way his cheeks flush that really captures my attention.
Interesting that my Nightingale has already ensnared him. I enjoy seeing him ruffled.
“You could have joined us, brother. I don't mind,” I tell him reasonably, my grin growing wider as his left eye twitches.
Dismissing him, I turn and head towards the kitchen area, thinking about something to make for her to eat.
“Eggs are too messy, something that I can feed her, I think…” I say aloud, opening the fridge and looking at the contents.
“What are you doing?” Aeron asks me, coming up behind me, annoyance still clear in his tone.
“Do you think chicken ramen? Or maybe some Bellinis?” I question, turning back to see the perplexed look on his face, and chuckling. “No, you're right, we need something we can feed her bite-sized pieces of so she has to wrap her lips around my fingers.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, Jude?” He leans over and slams the fridge door shut with enough force to rattle the bottles inside. I don’t jump though, nothing much frightens me anymore, not since June. I briefly wonder where the others are, then dismiss them as I look at my brother.
“Nightingale needs feeding, brother mine. You said we need to take care of her,” I remind him, trying to think of something to give her.
“So you decided you were going to feed her in my fucking bed?” he asks, and I can practically see the grinding of his teeth. It makes me smile. I knew he liked her, he wouldn’t be this annoyed if he didn’t.
“Well, she can't exactly get up right now, can she, silly?” I chuckle, then click my fingers as the perfect idea springs to mind. “Pancakes!” I shout, opening the fridge and grabbing out the milk, then pushing past my older brother to grab the other ingredients. He stumbles back, and I just know that he’s glaring at me.
The thought makes me cackle softly under my breath.
“You're going to feed her fucking pancakes? In. My. Bed?” he growls, and it's just too funny that I can so easily wind him up, thoughts of the mess we might make fucking with his OCD. I hope he explodes.
“Yep,” I reply, mixing the batter and heating the pan on the stove. “With all the trimmings; maple syrup, Nutella, golden syrup, strawberries…” I trail off, thinking about the other combinations. I bet my Nightingale has a sweet tooth.
I glance over to Aeron, biting my lips to keep my laugh from spilling out. He looks ready to burst, his face all flushed, and I swear the vein in his head is throbbing triple time.
“And how, pray tell, are you going to feed her pancakes covered in syrup in my fucking bed without making a mess?” His voice is deadly calm, his body statue still, both signs any normal person would take to run the fuck away. Luckily, I'm far from normal.
“Easy,” I answer, pouring some of the batter into the hot pan to create the first pancake. “I'll make sure any drips land on my cock so she can lick them off with her delightful tongue.”
I flip the pancake, grinning like a loon at the growl behind me before catching it in the pan and placing it back on the hob, then stepping away towards the cupboard to grab a plate.
“Oh, for fuck sake, Jude! Point that shit away from me!” Aeron grunts out, and I look down to see I'm standing to rigid attention. The thought of my Nightingale wrapping those red lips around my shaft was enough to make it hard as granite.
“You could always help me out here, bro,” I suggest, looking up at him with a tilt of my lips to see what he makes of my baiting. His upper lip curls and I let loose a chuckle.
“I’m not into that incest shit, Jude,” he sneers.
“No kink-shaming, Aeron. It’s not friendly,” I chastise, placing the cooked pancake onto the plate and pouring another measure of batter into the hot pan.
“And anyway, I don’t really see the difference if we’re both fucking her at the same time.
Especially if we’re in that delicious pussy of hers together,” I muse aloud, my dick bobbing at the thought.
A hand grabs me and spins me around, and I can feel my teeth show as my smile widens.
“No one is fucking her,” he seethes, panting hard, which just makes me smile wider.
“Sure thing, boss,” I reply, poking him with my still-hard cock, and he leaps back. He doesn’t give a shit if I walk around naked, but I guess he draws the line at me touching him with my dick. And they say I have issues.
I hum the “Bare Necessities” as I assemble my Nightingale's pancakes, adding chopped strawberries and lots of syrup.
“I fucking mean it, Jude. No attachments to this one. Remember, she’s a Soldier. Remember what they took from us.” His voice is hard and unyielding.
I pause on my way past him, sweet tendrils of black rage swirling inside me like smoke from a gun barrel.
“I remember every fucking day, brother,” I reply, my voice sharp like my flip knife.
His hand lands on my shoulder, squeezing gently as we share our pain. The pain of June’s death was like an infected wound, seeping pus and blood. Taking a deep breath, I shake my head, as if that’ll help rid me of the sticky feeling of rage that lives within my soul.
Without saying another thing, I step away from him, taking my Nightingale her food.
Something about her makes me want to take care of her, to treasure her like the beautiful bird that she is.
I don’t care that she's my enemy and that her shit of a father is responsible for the other half of me dying five years ago, but I will break her. It’s all that I’m good for now, after all.
Ironic that I called her broken when she’s far more complete than I’ll ever be.