3. Grievance #2
Shopkeepers swept crimson and amber leaves from crooked front porches, only for the wind to mischievously pile them right back again.
Children laughed as enchanted bats flapped just out of reach, giggling every time little fingers nearly caught them.
Somewhere in the distance, a hellhound lifted its muzzle and let out a long, mournful howl.
Several townsfolk smiled at the sound. Good luck for the season.
Grievance moved to turn down Elderberry Lane, home to only three residents. Lucia and her greenhouse, Mrs. Grimwood and her goat farm, and of course, the Hollow Antler Apothecary.
But Milo pulled away. Grievance frowned.
“Aren’t we going home?”
“We have to stop by Rowen’s, remember?”
Right. The annoying baker.
Grievance tried not to scowl.
“Don’t look so miserable. We’re just picking up some cupcakes or something and getting out. I’ll be quick, promise.”
“Better be,” Grievance grumbled, already dreading the nausea he got from the sickly-sweet air inside.
And just as he predicted, the bakery was completely packed. People stood shoulder to shoulder waiting for fresh pastries.
Grievance did not understand why everyone insisted on gathering here. There were entirely too many people. Entirely too close to Milo.
Rowen spotted them immediately. “Oh, Ralph passed the message. Good, they’re just over there.” He pointed behind the counter toward a neat stack of pastry boxes.
“You named your possum familiar Ralph?” Grievance asked pointedly.
“What’s wrong with Ralph?” Rowen asked, wiping flour from his hands with a towel.
“It’s ridiculous,” Grievance said point-blank.
“It’s fine,” Milo interjected. “Anyway, tell us about the pastries.” He redirected, but not before shooting Grievance a sharp look.
“I really appreciate you trying these. Hope you like cupcakes,” Rowen said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “The pink frosting ones are just standard strawberry. I made her do an easy control group first.”
Then he let out a long-suffering sigh.
“And the ones with blue frosting are what she’s calling…” He glanced toward the kitchen before lowering his voice. “Razzle-Dazzle Surprise.” Rowen shook his head. “I had one this morning.”
He patted himself down theatrically as though checking whether all his limbs remained attached.
“I’m feeling fine, so…” He shrugged. “Should be safe. Probably.”
Milo laughed. Grievance glared. He didn’t think the joke was that funny.
“Tell Sadie thanks, and I’m sure they’re delicious,” Milo said.
“Yes, yes. Thank you very much,” Grievance said quickly, taking the box with the swirly script, presumably Sadie’s handwriting, that said, Just for you, hot stuff. He grimaced at it. “Can we go now?”
Milo gave Rowen an apologetic look before waving goodbye, and they were once again blessedly in the crisp outdoor autumn air and out of that sugar-filled dungeon.
“If you can’t get along with Rowen, I’m not bringing you on errands anymore,” Milo said.
“Then I’m sending Pip as a proxy.”
Milo groaned. “Please don’t.”
“How many eggs do you want in your omelet?” Grievance asked, cracking open the eggs they received from Mr. Wetherby that morning in exchange for Milo’s ‘horny chicken potion’.
“Just two is fine.”
“Well, you’re getting three. This one had two yolks in it,” Grievance said, tossing aside the shell.
“Was it one of those red ones with yellow spots?”
“Yes. How did you know?” Grievance asked, turning from his spot at the stove. Milo was curled on the couch, a MythBeast encyclopedia open on his lap.
“Those almost always double-yolk. No idea why; my potion shouldn’t do that.”
“Hmm. Can you name it? I’m tired of calling it ‘horny chicken potion’ in my head all the time.”
Milo laughed. “Sure. I’ll come up with something. How about Super-Cock? Or Horny-Henrietta?”
Grievance gave him a look. “Is that really what you want?”
“Or, maybe Perfect-Pecker-Potion!” He smiled, proud of himself. “I kinda like that one.”
“I’ll let you keep workshopping it,” Grievance said, handing him a plate with his omelet and placing a kiss in his hair.
“I think I’m onto something,” Milo said through a big mouthful.
After eating, Grievance let Milo shower first while he cleaned up and started the night routine. He fed and tucked in Marigold the goat in the barn, sneaking her some fresh carrots from the garden as he locked up. It was ten thirty-seven, so exactly seven minutes ago Pip had put himself to bed.
Now, Grievance was alone, sitting on the sofa with his arms crossed and glaring at a white pastry box as though it had personally offended him.
It came from that cocky baker, so it might as well have.
He glared some more. Then drummed his fingers.
Fuck it.
He rose, crossed the room, and lifted the box’s lid.
“Pathetic.”
The supposed ‘pink and blue’ frosted cupcakes were nowhere to be seen. Instead, the box was filled with an assortment of very dull-looking muffins. Grievance supposed that was for the best; he didn’t care for the sugary mini-cakes but knew Milo would be disappointed.
“Can’t even keep his stupid cakes straight,” Grievance said, plucking one from the box and taking a bite.
It was, to his dismay, a perfect balance of sweet with a sharp berry tang. He peered at it. Blueberry.
Fuck you for making my favorite.
Cursing the baker, he finished the muffin and, to his horror, found himself craving a second one. But before he could commit such blasphemy, Milo opened the door, his big pink sweater hanging off one shoulder as he toweled off his damp hair.
“It’s all yours,” he said. “Oh, you started without me! How was it?” Milo asked, eyeing the box of goodies.
Grievance set his jaw. Milo smirked.
“It was good, wasn’t it?”
“It was perfectly average,” Grievance grumbled. “And the fool gave us the wrong ones. Those were muffins.”
“Aww, I was really looking forward to cupcakes,” Milo said sadly.
Grievance knew he would be disappointed. Fuck Rowen.
“I’ll go back tomorrow and demand a refund.”
Milo rolled his eyes.
“Grievance, he gave us these for free. It’s not a big deal; muffins are good too. But I’ll save mine for morning coffee tomorrow,” Milo said, closing the box. “I already brushed my teeth anyway.”
“Okay, I’ll be out in a minute,” Grievance said, turning to the bathroom.
“Wait, what flavor was it?” Milo asked.
Grievance paused, hand on the doorknob. He said nothing, but his clever mate could read him like a book even when he stayed silent. Maybe especially then.
“It was blueberry, wasn’t it? Your favorite. I bet you really liked it,” he teased.
“Average pastry from a below-average baker,” Grievance huffed and slammed the door. Milo laughed at him from the other side. Then he shouted. “Hey, I think those were made by Sadie!”
“If they were made by Sadie, they were good. If they were made by Rowen, they’re trash. Now stop talking about the damn muffins,” Grievance shouted through the door, turning on the shower so he couldn’t hear his mate continue to laugh at him.
The warm spray melted the edge from Grievance’s nerves. It was one of his favorite Folk inventions, made even better by his own tinkering. Now, the water pressure was hard enough to gently massage the back of his neck.
Grievance leaned his head back, letting his long hair fall into the spray.
He thought back to the first time he was in this shower.
Bruised. Bloodied. On the verge of giving up.
But Milo had found him. Washed his hair.
Taken him in, clothed him, cared for him in a way no other living thing in this world ever had.
My sweet, perfect mate.
Grievance rolled his neck into the stream, sighing as every bit of rigid tension washed from his body as easily as caked-on sweat.
When Milo showered with him, he had this way of finding all of Grievance’s sore spots. The places where his body felt on edge. He soothed Grievance’s hurts. All of them. Even the ones Grievance couldn’t see.
“Mmm. Milo~”
Grievance moaned his name, stroking his hard cock at the way it rolled so easily off his tongue. At how everything about Milo was perfect. His voice. His kindness. His body…
Fuuuuck that body. So lean and supple. So willing and breedable. So perfect for my cock~
Grievance stroked himself hard, back against the tile wall, disappearing into the memory of his beloved mate.
Wait… when had he gotten hard? Grievance looked at his dick in his hand. How long had he been standing here stroking himself? He blinked, trying to clear the water from his eyes. It didn’t work. His vision continued to swim.
Suddenly the room swayed, and Grievance had to throw a hand up against the wall and brace himself.
What… the fuck is happening?
The harder he tried to focus, the more his awareness faded, swirling away like water through the drain at his feet. All he could focus on was the throbbing need in his cock. The heat in his body.
Fuck… Milo.
My mate.
My mate.
My mate.
Grievance was losing himself, dissolving into a being of pure need. A need that could only be satisfied by joining himself with the one person in this world who knew him. That held his heart. That transformed his magic and his soul.
Milo~
He groaned the name loudly, hoping his mate would hear him. Would come for him. Save him from the horrible pain of wanting him this badly.
He needed his mate. His mind. His body. His perfect tight heat. His womb. Grievance needed it all.
Grievance’s vision narrowed until it felt like he was looking through a tunnel. And there was only one thing at the end of it.
My mate… my Veya.
Stumbling out of the shower, Grievance didn’t have the awareness to turn the water off. Or grab a towel. Or anything. His mind and body had one goal.
And that was to breed his perfect little mate until he was bursting with Grievance’s cubs.