“Shit,” he sighs. “I don’t want to fuck with her sleep, which is why I woke up. I had a fucked up dream.”
“Care to share?” I ask. I’m not as good at beating around the bush as Abbott and Cass are. I’ll steamroll through that shit instead.
“It’s stupid,” he grumbles. “It’ll never happen, so why do I keep dreaming about it?”
“Your brain is an asshole,” I reply. Bellamy gives me a bemused glare, but it’s not my fault it’s true. “Cassidy’s is the same way. It’ll come up with all kinds of shit that’ll never happen, and then she works herself up into a frenzy.”
“Cassidy is fucking perfect,” he scoffs. “What does she worry about?”
“Hmm. Everything?” I suggest. “We have to see her parents soon, and they’re not my favorite people. Not to mention, I’m pretty sure they’re a bit homophobic. Cassidy has always been bisexual. She’s a girl’s girl, hypes people up, yet worries she’s being too friendly. We all have our demons, Bellamy. The ones that shine brightest hide them the best.”
Bellamy tugs on his ash blonde hair, thinking for a long moment.
“My parents are dead, and I know this. The place in my heart that loves them, sometimes forgets,” he confesses. The darkness gives him the illusion of privacy and he blows out a breath. “I heard Matilda say that she bled out the brakes on my father’s car. She never expected to end up taking custody of Winter and I. It was pretty clear by her treatment of us. Now, my brain keepshaving me get in the car with Winter when our parents crashed. I can’t shake it! Out of all the fucked up shit that’s happened to us, and that’s what sticks with me.”
“The other ghosts are there, this just happens to be the loudest one,” I reply. “It doesn’t mean the others will disappear, they’re just…waiting.”
“You kind of suck at this,” Bellamy snorts. “I’m going to finish painting, at least then Winter will have a finished mural in the morning.”
“Or,” I drawl. “We could go downstairs and break some shit. We purge shit pretty often, but I keep a secret closet of things in case of emergency.”
“I’ll bite. What kind of emergency makes you break things?” Bellamy asks, exasperated.
He’s adorable when he’s annoyed with me. In fact…
My bare feet eat up the distance between us, and I grin like the psychotic asshole I am as I pull on his hair for good measure.
“It’s either this or fucking me,” I grunt, my lips grating over his lips. Bellamy attempts to chase after me, his eyes hooding, but I shake my head. “Uh-uh. There’s lube downstairs. Break shit, then fuck me. The kinds of emergencies that make you break shit involve anger or fear. Exorcise the demons, and we can play.”
“I’ve never…done that,” he says softly. “Winter and I were each other’s firsts, and then consent became moot. We managed to escape the worst…until we couldn’t anymore.”
“I don’t think I’ve been anyone’s first,” I admit. “I was the last to join the pack, and I had a past by the time that happened. I’m not going to judge you for yours if you won’t judge me for mine, Bellamy. I know trust is hard when we haven’t known each other for long.”
“Do you know how I knew you weren’t going to hurt us, outside of pulling us out of that godforsaken excuse for a brothel?” he asks.
“A genius and shitty set up,” I murmur, glad the Hug Project is now ash. “How?”
“Outside of the detox from hell and staying with Winter and I as much as possible?” he continues. Damn, Bellamy is on a tear.
“What?” I ask, waiting.
“The nest,” he says. “Winter and I have never had one before. We presented and then lost our autonomy. That’s when I knew I could trust you. There’s been half a dozen other instances, so I don’t think time is a factor here.”
“So you know I’m not inviting you into the basement to kill you,” I drawl, enjoying the way that he scrunches up his face.
Bellamy is very close to stomping his foot or kneeing me in the knot. Totally worth it either way.
“I do,” he acknowledges. “I think the basement will keep, though.”
“Does this mean you want to go to bed?” I ask him.
“Nope.”
“A snack?” I ask, leaning into the frustration I see.
“Unless you’re offering yourself…no,” he growls adorably.
“Then…”
