Rusty’s Secret Girlfriend
Gem
The sky was stilldark when Gem roused to Rusty shaking his shoulder. “Gem, which shirt is this?”
With a whine, Gem curled into his blankets. “Go away. I’m sleeping.”
“I’m late for work, and you came on my shirt last night.” Rusty shook his shoulder again, and Gem grumpily opened two eyes to glare up at him. He was nothing but a shadow with reflective eyes as he shook dark fabric in Gem’s face. “Is this black?”
“Yes,” Gem muttered before he buried his face in his pillow once more.
“Thanks.” Rusty’s lips brushed over Gem’s temple. “Go back to sleep. I’ll see you at work.”
“M’kay,” Gem hummed as he tumbled quickly back into unconsciousness.
A few hours later, his alarm chimed, and he stretched, wincing at the delicious ache in his joints. Last night, they’d broken out the handcuffs atGem’s suggestion, and Rusty had bound each of his arms to the headboard before he’d pressed Gem’s knees to his chest and taken him rough and wild.
Gem had been naked. Rusty had simply released his cock from his unzipped jeans and fucked him fully clothed. It had been dirty and amazing, and Gem admired the scratches Rusty had left on his back and chest in the bathroom mirror. He’d bitten the nape of Gem’s neck again, and Gem pressed his fingers into the tender bruise and shivered.
One day, Gem wanted him to bite hard enough to break skin. It would scar—wounds like that always did—but he would wear it with pride.
When Gem walked into the cafe an hour later, using the employee entrance, he came to a halt at the sight of everyone—except Rusty—huddled in the kitchen whispering. At his appearance, they all fell silent, and Gem shifted his weight uncomfortably.
“Hey, Gem,” Oliver said.
“Hi?” Gem studied all their expressions at once. “Did someone die or something?”
“No, of course not,” Zef said.
“Oliver was asking for our advice,” Willow said.
“About something personal,” Glyma said.
“Sex advice,” Tad said.
Oliver scowled at her, “Tad!”
“Oh, well, can I help? Is it like a”—Gem flopped his wrist limply—“problem? Or more of a”—he flapped his other hand aggressively—“problem?”
Looking rather horrified, Oliver said, “The first one I hope.”
“Well, it’s definitely the easier one to fix,” Gem said with a smile. “And it’s nothing to be ashamed of; it happens to the best of us.”
“Maybe you could talk about it later,” Glyma said, and Oliver nodded enthusiastically.
“Yes, please. Later. Or never. Whichever comes last.” With a significant look at the others, Oliver motioned to the kitchen doors. “Better get to it. Can’t leave Rusty all alone out there.”
Gem followed the human out of the kitchen, four pairs of eyes tracking him. “You’re all giving off a very axe-murdery vibe, right now.”
When no one reacted, Gem hurried through the swinging doors, not wanting to risk actually getting axe-murdered. He wouldn’t put it past Tad to do it. She’d probably harvest his organs to sell on the black market or wear his beautiful face as a mask to hide her identity as she robbed a bank or something.
“Are you sure that was about your depressed dick and not—” Gem broke off with a yelp as Oliver rounded on him, expression intense. “What in the deities is going on? Why is everyone acting like a serial killer? And where’s Rusty? Oh my gods, did you already kill him for his beautiful, silky pelt?”
Oliver grimaced. “What? No, he’s cleaning the bathroom. Someone’s kid got sick in there.”
At that, Gem gagged, brushing past the human to set his water bottle under the counter. “Ew, that’s disgusting! Children are a literal blight on this world.”
“Some would say they’re the hope for the future,” Oliver countered, and Gem grimaced.
