Page 130 of Deviant Need

“You’re not naming our dogs something stupid though.”

I roll my eyes. “I won’t.”

“I’m glad we’re doing this,” he says.

“Doing what?”

“Visiting our tree.”

My throat tightens, and I kiss the top of his head again. “Me too.”

We’re back in the only place that ever made us feel safe and protected as kids.

This is where we started, two broken pieces that somehow fit together, and this is where I want to end. Buried here alongside him when our time comes, roots growing through us until we’re part of this place forever. Together even in death, the way we’ve been together in everything else.

Epilogue

Daniil – Six months later

The sound of metal clanking and then something falling over, followed by loud cursing from Mikhail, has me glancing up from my laptop on the couch. Groaning happens a second later, and I push myself up, walking toward where the sound came from.

I come to an abrupt halt in the doorway when I see Mikhail standing up from the floor, covered in paint.

He turns around and glares at me.

The ladder is sideways on the floor, and purple paint is splattered everywhere, dripping down the wall in streaks.

He’s been losing his mind being home for less than twenty-four hours. We just came back from our cabin trip yesterday, and it’s barely nine in the morning, but he decided now was the perfect time to paint. We’re supposed to drive to the beach later, so maybe starting a painting project wasn’t the best idea.

“Don’t you dare say anything,” he grumbles, walking past me and pressing his lips to the side of my head before heading toward the bathroom.

I huff when I see all the paint on the floor. I’m not cleaning that up, no thank you.

It’s been six months since we moved here, and he’s been slowly painting all the rooms for me, one by one. I love him so much for it.

He’s still working at Ozero, running the clubs and handling day-to-day operations there. He’s also taken over our private investment firm, using his business degree from college. And he’s been clean from benzos, coke, and molly for the past six months. That’s the part that makes me the proudest.

Turning around, I follow after him and find him inside the shower. I strip down before stepping in behind him. My weight has come back on, and I’ve filled out again, muscles defined the way they used to be. He loves running his tongue over my abs and biting them when we’re in bed.

My arms wrap around him from behind, and he turns, pulling me close. All the paint is gone from his skin now, washed away by the water.

He looks down at me, still grumpy. “Have you packed yet?”

“I have. Everything’s ready.”

“Good. And you got what I told you to?”

“Yes, I got a shitload of weed from Calder.”

He hums and presses a kiss into my hair. His body is incredible. He’s put all the weight back on too and has even more muscle than he did before. It does something to me. My cock swells, and he looks down at me.

“Insatiable. Can’t ever get enough of me, can you?”

“You already know the answer to that.”

He picks me up, pressing me against the shower wall and shoving his tongue into my mouth, swirling with mine.

“But we’re not doing it right now,” he says, pulling back.