“Yeah, no. I have work. I might not command armies, but I have to pay my bills, and letting you suck me off for fifty bucks a pop isn’t going to keep a roof over my head.”
There’s a beat. Then,“I will build you shelter.”
“Oh my god, stop.” For some reason, I think he means this literally, and the last thing I need in my life is him showing up, trying to build me a hut or whatever they live in. “I don’t need you to do that. I need you to give me some time to recover and go about my life.”
He says nothing, but there’s an acquiescence that I can feel before he exits my mind. I know he’s gone because it’s oddly calm, and that low hum I’ve grown accustomed to when he’s there is absent.
I fall against the couch cushions and pull a pillow over my head, letting out a low, frustrated groan.
Why does the thought that he hasn’t abandoned me make me irresistibly happy?
Why do I like that he wants me so much?
I shouldn’t. I should be upset, but I’m not.
I’m fucking relieved that he still wants me.
seven
EVEREST
Staring across the empty mall, I feel a small pulse of gratitude that I don’t work on shit like commission. Otherwise, I’d be broke as fuck.
Mall culture is dying. It has been for a while, but last year, the mall put up a new policy banning anyone under the age of eighteen from being there without an adult, and anyone under the age of twenty-one from being in groups of more than three.
It was a hyper-reaction to bullshit TikTok trends that never actually reached the borders of our small town. And the powers that be seemed to forget that it was teenagers who kept traffic flowing through the corridors.
Adults have jobs and lives to live. They turn up for holidays, and that’s about it. It seems like once a week, a shop is closing its doors permanently, and at some point, I’m going to need to figure out what to do with my life because this little hot dog stand isn’t going to last much longer.
I haven’t sold anything in three hours, and no one has so much as looked my way.
I’m bored, which is usually a dangerous thing for me to be because it’s when I’ve come up with my worst ideas. Like when I came up with a murder-mystery-themed party with a drinkinggame attached that had all my friends leaving on the verge of alcohol poisoning.
Or when I thought Zane and I should have a contest to see how far we could jump out of the tree in his mom’s front yard without breaking a bone.
I lost that one. Hairline fracture in my radius that took six weeks to heal.
Except, now my mind is floating to the monster currently living in it. Or, well, part-time anyway. He’s left me alone today—mostly. There have been a few times I felt him creeping in, like he’s peering through my eyes, but he’s left off the demands that I show up at the clinic.
I’m not sure if I’m happy or sad about it. It’s a strange sensation in my chest, like I want him to fight for me, even though I really don’t want to take any more of those fucking leaves and dump more cum than my body wants to produce down his throat.
Oh hell, maybe I’m just lonely. I’ve managed a couple of hookups in my day, but I’ve never had an actual relationship, and there’s a good chance that’s the problem.
As much as I don’t want to admit it, Rathyn is the first person—well, creature, I should say—to pay this kind of attention to me.
I’m not ugly, but I’m not the hottest guy around. Girls aren’t really turned on by the ugly hot dog hat.
I have very little to offer these days, and considering how much I’ve been into getting my dick sucked by monsters—not just in fantasy, but in real life—I’m starting to question myself.
Straight had been the easiest identity, and I don’t know if there is some new one for people who are into monsters, but I’m starting to think there should be. Zane will kill me, of course.
If he has even an inkling about how I’m feeling, he will tie me to my bed and leave me there to rot until I come to my senses.
The problem is, I think I already have.
I breathe out a sigh and turn to do some early closing side work when suddenly I feel something zipping through me.
It’s him.
