Epilogue
Three Months Later
Sav
I can tell when he walks in before I look up. I can always tell. It’s like someone is smiling at me. There’s a sudden warmth in the room that I only feel when he’s around.
When I finish serving the drink I’m making—because Gunnar is finally letting me bartend sometimes now that he and Tobias are officially together, and he has someone else to help haul limes around—I search him out. He looks tired, because he just finished a double shift, and I know those always wreck him. I keep telling him to work less, but he’s a glutton for punishment.
His scrubs are dirty, and I shudder to think what fluids are on his skin, but I don’t care. Because he is smiling at me, and that warmth is the only thing in the world that matters right now.
“I told you I would make it in time to have a drink before you close,” he says as he collapses onto a stool.
Time freezes for a moment. Or maybe it doesn’t freeze, but it scatters in every direction, like a beam of light that’s been fragmented.
I want to kiss him.
He told me I don’t have to do anything that makes me uncomfortable. And even he likes to keep himself relatively buttoned up in public, because this is still a conservative area and it is what it is, as he put it. The Banna let me go like Father said they would, but the more extroverted I am with my ‘perversions’, the more likely rumors will get back to him and piss him off.
Not to mention, Gunnar, Tobias, and Kasia were originally introduced to Micah as my brother. I’ve explained the situation since then and they know we’re not really related, but still living together. If the sidelong looks I get from Kasia and deliberate silence I get from Gunnar is any indicator, they might suspect there’s something between us. But still, it feels awkward to just talk about myself like that and let them in on shit.
On the other hand, it’s not like I’m ashamed of Micah. He’s the only decent thing I’ve ever done.
Fuck it.
If there’s anywhere I can do it, it’s here. In this little pocket of safety at the Possum.
I lean over the bar, which is deep enough that I have to stand up on my toes to reach, grab Micah by the jaw and kiss him firmly on the mouth. No tongue, no lingering, but a solid enough kiss that it’s unmistakably not platonic. And when I pull back, I keep my hand where it is so I can hover with our faces inches apart for a few more seconds.
Of course, Tobias wolf-whistles from somewhere behind me. The brat.
“Hi, Bambi,” I murmur.
“Hi, doll.”
There’s a hint of flush creeping into his cheeks, and the sleepiness running through him makes him already soft in my hands.
“You want a margarita?”
His smile broadens, lovestruck and kind of dopey, and I’m still getting used to the fact that he makes that face all for me.
“Yes, please.”
“Okay.” I peck him on the lips one more time before I let him go, turning to get him the drink.
Everybody makes small talk for a little while. Micah fills me in on his shift, including a particularly grizzly assault victim that sounds a lot like the work of people we know, even though neither of us says that out loud. Tobias and Gunnar are disgustingly handsy with each other when they’re supposed to be working, because what else is new, and I get to share exasperated looks about it with Kasia, who has sat down to drink with Micah because she’s not working tonight and only came for the liquor.
It’s getting closer to closing time when Micah cracks a joke that makes Kasia snort vodka out of her nose. There are only a few people left inside because it’s only a Tuesday, so it’s noticeable when the door opens, and a new person walks in.
Well, I don’t notice right away, because I’m focusing on my work. And the constant, obsessive situational awareness I used to have has faded more quickly than I expected it to ever since I quit. The nightmares haven’t faded at all. If anything, they’re worse, but according to Bambi, that happens sometimes.
Either way, the only reason I take note of the new person is because Micah bristles in front of me.
I whip my head around, expecting the worst. Father, maybe. So far, it sounds like he’s been keeping his word and sitting his ass in Oklahoma. He doesn’t want anything to do with me, Micah, or Micah’s mom, and is apparently content to pretend none of us ever existed. Of course, I’ll never feel truly confident that’s going to last.
Maybe it’s Eamon’s fucking ghost, here to haunt me along with the rest of my memories. I don’t know.
It’s only Colm.
He saunters in, looking as calm and subdued as ever. When he points those bright blue eyes at me, I see the same affection and loyalty in them as I always did, and it almost hurts.
I miss him, I guess. I didn’t realize I would.
“Please don’t tell me you’re here to flee your life of crime,” Gunnar says from behind the bar. “I’m out of money to hire people.” He looks at Tobias and then at me, then coughs. “I mean, alleged life of crime.”
I snort, but neither Micah or Kasia look amused. I’m expecting Tobias to protest and point out that he has his own job now and only helps out at the bar because he can, because the sass on him has become completely unmanageable now that he’s not miserable and struggling to survive day to day. But when I look at him, he’s silent. His eyes are dark and downcast, and his body is preternaturally still. Without a sound, he slowly slinks out of view, disappearing into the back hall, leaving Gunnar looking after him with a frown.
It makes sense. His experience of the Banna was one giant shit-fest of abuse, and it’s hard to distinguish one threat from another. Colm probably looks like another Eamon in waiting to him. He looked at me the same way until I finally broke and told him what I did. He hugged me that day, which is a memory I’ll hold on to for a very long time, even if I’m not quite sure what to do with it.
Colm doesn’t care about the rest of us, though. He’s only looking at me.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asks.
“No.” Micah’s voice echoes through the room, much louder than the music, before I even get a chance to open my mouth. “He’s closed for business. You were there, we discussed this. Now get a drink or get out.”
“Calm down, Bambi,” Colm says to him, still in a quiet voice, but now my blood is up, too.
“Hey,” I say, but he keeps talking to Micah.
“I’m not asking him to help me assassinate the president, I just want his opinion on something.”
Micah is fucking fuming. He hasn’t removed Colm’s eyeballs, though, which is nice. I don’t want to have to pull him out of a brawl. I know from personal experience that he’s a lot stronger than he looks.
“Fine. But watch your fucking mouth.” I turn to Micah. “Two minutes. I’ll be fine.”
His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t say anything. I top off his drink with a little more tequila for good measure, which makes him almost snort laugh at me, and then hustle out from behind the bar before Colm can ignite any more drama.
“I’m not going outside with you, if your plan is to jump me,” I say as I drag him by the arm to the farthest corner of the room. “What do you want?”
For a second, he holds the same confident, almost-cocky expression as before, but then he softens. “Damn, Sav. Do you really think I would do that? I’ve always been on your side. I helped you get out and got a big fucking promotion in the process. Why would I come for you now?”
I huff, but he’s not wrong.
“I miss you,” he says, so quietly that I almost don’t hear him. “You know you can still say hello without being asked to dig a grave or something.”
I’m about to snap at him, but I stop myself. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. This is all new and weird.”
“Is it good?” he asks. “You’re happy?”
I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly, but it doesn’t work so I repeat the process. “Yeah. I mean, as happy as I can be. I’m still a fucking mess. That might just be who I am, though. It’s easier to deal with it when I don’t have all the other shit to deal with, y’know?”
“And your little woodland creature?” he says, his mouth turning up into a smile that’s just shy of salacious. “He makes you happy?”
“Fuck off.” I punch him in the arm, but it barely rocks him backward. There’s a twist of nerves inside me, like there always is when people finally know that Micah and I are more than whatever we were before. That we’re something. That he’s it. “Yes.”
It’s the only answer I can come up with, because talking about this with anyone, let alone a member of the Banna, makes me want to throw up. I avert my eyes, but Colm pats my arm to get my attention again.
“Good. It’s good. He’s a good kid.” I roll my eyes a little, because he’s barely a year younger than me and I think Colm is about the same age. We’re all kids, really. Some of us are just also murderers. “I like how he is for you. You need someone to protect you. That was always my job, but I think he has me beat.”
Colm quirks a smile, and his expression gets kind of distant. I can’t read it.
“Don’t worry about the guys, by the way. Patrick took most of the old timers with him when he left. I’m not saying they’re progressive or anything—” He laughs. “But most of them don’t seem to care enough about all this shit to go looking for trouble. The world is different now than it was for Patrick. Even our world.”
I can’t help but cock my head. He makes it sound simple. Father always drew this line in the sand and told me that the Banna was on one side and all the weak people of the world were on the other. There were a lot of things that were written on that line, but ‘queer’ was definitely one of them.
And now here’s Colm, acting like it’s no big deal. Like all this can eventually just drift away as people care less and less.
I can’t wrap my mind around it. I don’t even think I want to. It makes too much of my life a fucking waste.
“I’m sure you didn’t come here to talk about my sex life,” I say, before immediately regretting the ballsiness of my word choice.
Colm laughs, though. “No. Sorry. I wanted to know if you’ve heard of someone called ‘Fallow’? No first name. I don’t know if it’s a title or a real name or what. People keep talking about him, and it’s dark, violent shit, but it’s very hush hush and I can’t get a straight answer. It’s like trying to ask my nan to tell me about the fair folk. Nothing but rumors and blank fucking verse.”
“I’m sorry, brother. I don’t know. Sounds kind of creepy, though.”
“Yeah.” He looks away from me, chewing on his bottom lip. “That’s the problem.”
There’s a long silence, and once again I can’t puzzle out his expression.
“Are you okay?”
Colm jumps a little, like he’s snapping out of a trance, and turns his attention back to me. “Sorry. Yes. Thanks for your help, I’ll leave you to your woodland creature.” He smiles again, but it’s weaker this time. “Come see me if you want to, okay? No strings.”
When I nod and agree, I think I actually mean it. A few months ago, the idea would have crippled me with anxiety. But now that Patrick has been gone all this time and still hasn’t come lurching back into our lives yet, I find it a little easier every day to convince myself he might really be letting us go free.
We exchange warm goodbyes, and it feels nice. Like the one decent part of my old, shitty life is slotting into my new one. I walk back to the bar with a small smile on my face, even if Micah is still glaring daggers at me.
“What did he want?”
My smile widens, because the vitriol in his voice could melt through the bar.
“Nothing, Bambi.” I murmur the words in his ear and kiss him on the top of his head, taking the opportunity while I’m on this side of the bar. “He had a question that I couldn’t answer anyway. No big deal.”
“Mmm.” No words follow his sound, but the distrust is written all over his face.
The last bit of my shift goes quickly. Micah is quiet, but I understand. He’s probably just as freaked out at the idea of me running back to the Banna after everything we’ve gone through as I am at the idea of them dragging me back. I don’t poke at him, instead focusing on closing up and getting us home in one piece.
He was already tired, so the two margs I made him hit harder than normal. He’s not drunk by any means, but he’s a little loose and a lot sleepy by the time I drag him up to the apartment.
“Bedtime, Bambi. You look like you’re about to fall asleep standing up.”
I’m pulling off his shoes for him while he leans on my shoulders after we both threw our keys and phones somewhere to the side. As soon as I’m done, he pulls me up and starts to devour my face. Not even a hello kiss, this is a full-on tongue-down-my-throat kiss.
“What was that for?” I say quietly when we finally break apart. Not that I care. I’m already half hard, and his scrubs are thin enough that they’re doing nothing to hide how worked up he is for me in return.
He doesn’t say anything, though. He wraps his arms around my waist and rests his head on my chest, squeezing me tight. He doesn’t do this very often, but whenever he does, I feel like he needs it a lot. I immediately reach out and hold him close, kissing the top of his head just like I did back at the bar.
“I’m not going anywhere, Bambi. I promise. I already spent my life savings getting my new identity, anyway. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get documents forged in the digital age? It’s horseshit, I tell you. What do I need a social security number for anyway?”
That finally makes him laugh, even if the noise is muffled by my chest. Sometimes it’s nice to be like this. I feel like the version of myself when we were kids, and the world was dark but simple. I knew how to protect him and that was the only thing I needed to do.
Now it’s always him protecting me, and I don’t know how he fucking does it because it’s always so complicated I don’t even know where to start. I don’t understand any of it. Not the practical shit like actually learning how to become a real person, or the psychological shit like learning to live with my broken brain instead of running away from it.
He does, though. He’s always there with meds or advice or sometimes just to fuck the nonsense out of me, if that’s what I need in the moment. He always knows.
I lean down, wrapping my arms under his tight little ass and hitching him up until I’m carrying him. He makes a small squeak of surprise, which I file away in my memory bank with the other noises he makes for all eternity, but he only clings tighter to me as I walk us both to the shower.
“Come on. I’m sure you’d like to take out whatever these feelings you’re having on my ass. Don’t say I’m not here for you, Bambi.”
He chuckles, but it’s a maniacal sound and I know this is exactly what he was hoping would happen.
That’s fine. It’s exactly what I wanted as well.
We strip each other down, everything getting quicker and more frantic as the seconds pass. The water is barely warm by the time we stumble under the spray together, joined at the mouth and with Micah’s hand wrapped around both our cocks.
For a while, that’s enough. Grinding against each other, touching each other, tasting each other. Micah whispering, “That’s it, doll,” in my ear whenever we break for air.
Then he puts both his hands on the top of my head and pushes me to my knees. I buckle for him immediately, and without hesitation, he slides his hot length into my mouth.
Micah gasps when his cockhead hits the back of my throat, and I choke around it.
“Yes, fuck yeah, doll. That’s it. So fucking perfect for me. You love being fed my cock, don’t you?”
I can’t answer, because he’s holding my nose to his pubic bone and I’m busy feeling my throat spasm while spit drools down the side of my face. But yes. Yes, I do.
Just when I think I’m about to lose my vision from the oxygen deprivation, he lets up. I wait for him to do it again, but he doesn’t. Instead, he starts fucking my face fast and hard, both hands still on my head to hold me steady.
It’s perfect. I drift immediately, feeling like I’m being sucked into his orbit until nothing but him exists. He’s making the same grunts and gasps that I adore, filling my mouth with the salt and musk of his cock, and I quickly lose the ability to think about anything else.
“Fuck your fingers while I fuck your face, slut. Show me how greedy your pussy is.”
His voice is lust-soaked, and I can already see him falling apart in front of me. I do as he says, even though I’m struggling with my coordination. I fumble the shower lube, but eventually get some on my hand. It doesn’t take long to work myself open, and soon I’m bouncing on my knees, rocking three fingers deeper and deeper into myself as he continues to stretch my jaw around his cock.
“Yes, yes, yes,” he chants, more desperate and overwhelmed than I’ve seen him in a long time. “My perfect slut. She always needs her pussy filled, don’t you?”
This time, he pulls out of my mouth so I can answer. My voice is so rough and desperate, so whiny, that I don’t recognize it. But I recognize the feral look in Micah’s eye whenever I get like this, so I don’t hold back.
“Yes, Bambi. I’m a slut. My greedy pussy needs to be filled. Please give me your cum.”
I buck my hips on my own fingers as I say it, because I really am desperate for him to fill me up.
“What a good girl,” he says, his voice low and thick.
Instead of resuming his face fucking, Micah grabs me by the hair and jerks me up hard, making me cry out. He leans over, pulling my face until it’s inches from his and my knees are beginning to lift off the ground. The pain bubbles through me, heightening everything else.
Micah tightens his grip then, looking me in the eye and saying something he’s never said before, but immediately makes my cock pulse and my orgasm grow closer.
“Run.”
I don’t know why I instinctively know what he wants, but I want it too. He releases my hair, and I crash to my knees again, but before I even form a conscious thought, I’m up. I burst through the shower door, swinging it open so hard I’m amazed I don’t break it. Out of the bathroom, down the hallway and into the apartment.
It’s not a big space. There isn’t far to run. But even just the few feet I’ve made it, wet and naked, vulnerable and desperate with my hole already stretched out for him to claim, feels insane. The drive for satisfaction is something I’ve never experienced before.
I hear Micah’s footsteps behind me. Slap, slap, slap on the wood floor as he gets closer to me.
My adrenaline spikes and my cock is practically reaching backward for him, but I run.
My legs are longer, so I eat up the distance and dive for the other side of the couch. My fucking junk is loose, and it seems so unhinged, but in this moment I’m completely free. Micah is undeterred, though. He dives over the couch with a lot more grace than I managed.
His body is dripping water, his dark hair sleek and his eyes wild. He lands practically on top of me and doesn’t waste any time sweeping my legs out from under me, shoving me to the floor. My cheek hits the rug so hard I think it might bruise, but the pain explodes like another starburst of pleasure, I’m so keyed up.
He pulls my hands behind me, holding them loosely in one of his. I don’t try to break his grip, because he knows I’m not going anywhere. I buck and writhe though, while he’s straddling my ass. I’m not trying to get free. I just want to feel more of him and my body is operating on instinct alone. I couldn’t stay still right now if you paid me, I feel like I have lightning in my veins.
“That’s it, slut. You’re not even pretending you don’t want it. You just need my cock inside you. All my cum spilling out of that tight, wet pussy.”
I fucking whine. High-pitched and long. It ends on a sob, because I need him inside me right fucking now. “Please,” is the only word I can force through my lips, though. “Please” and “more.” I cry them out like a prayer.
With one hand holding my wrists, Micah uses the other to guide his cock to my hole. He didn’t lube himself, so there’s only what’s left from my fingerfucking before. I’m prepped, but it’s still a burn to let him in, and I love every second of it.
It feels fucking cleansing.
“Bambi, Bambi, Bambi.” My chant changes to his name as he shoves his cock inside me until he’s finally seated.
As soon as he’s ready, he gets that solid grip on my hair again and uses it as leverage to fuck me. It hurts everywhere. The stretch. The burn on my scalp. Every part of my body that I just scraped when I fell. The desperate ache of my cock needing release.
He fucks me relentlessly, whispering over and over that I’m good and perfect and his slutty pussy to fill but no one else’s.
Finally, Micah gasps and then cries out, burying himself deep as he pulses into me. I squeeze as hard as I can, milking him for every drop of his release and enjoying the way he shudders and kneads at the flesh of my ass while he rides out his orgasm.
For a second, I think there might be a break, but of course not. As soon as he’s finished, he pulls out and roughly flips me over. His thick cock gets replaced by four fingers plunging into me, while he swallows my cock whole.
I make a strangled noise, grabbing onto his wet hair with both hands and fucking up into his mouth in desperation. He finds my prostate and works it over, and within seconds I’m spilling into his mouth, making just as much noise as he did a second ago.
I’m still blinking away the spots that were swimming in my vision during my orgasm when Micah pulls off my cock and climbs up my body to straddle my chest. He looks just as hungry and dangerous as he did before, like what we just did barely scratched the surface.
He grabs my face with his left hand, squeezing hard enough to force my jaw open. Then, with my head tilted back and my mouth open wide, he spits all the cum he just sucked out of me right into my waiting mouth. It’s warm and tastes like both of us mixed together, but the utter debauchery of it is what makes me shiver.
When he shuts my mouth and nods, I swallow it down. Obedient to my core. His left hand is still on my face but immediately slaps me with the right. Not hard, but hard enough to make my entire body zing and feel awake again after having all my brain cells sucked out of my dick.
I gasp and look back up at him. I swear to god, my cock is trying to get hard again faster than it ever has before. The psychotic look in his eye is only feeding it.
Micah grins at me, leaning over my face to surround me with his body, and I grin back.
I don’t know who starts laughing first, but it’s one of us. Soon we’re both laughing hard, then kissing, then laughing in between kisses and rolling back and forth on the floor that’s wet and sticky from our escapade.
Eventually, we calm down and end up lying side by side. We’re still naked and damp, with our hands tangled together. Micah is playing with my fingers, and I don’t have the energy to get up for a very long time.
“Well, I feel better. Do you feel better?” he asks.
I snort. “I feel like I got hit by a fucking train.” I roll over, nuzzling my face into his shoulder. “But yeah, I feel better, Bambi. You always make me feel better.”
More time passes, with neither of us speaking but neither of us ready to get up.
“I love you, doll,” he says at last, still looking at the ceiling.
“I know,” I say, and it feels like I really mean it this time. “I love you too.”
“Good, because it’s my fault that we need to take a whole other shower now.”
I get up, groaning, and haul him to his feet as well. But we’re both laughing again the whole walk there.