Page 35 of Nevermore
Regardless ofwhyI’m thinking about it, I might have to talk to them about expediting ADLs or coming up with a remodelbecause now that they’re back, I don’t want to be away from those guys ever again.
Hence why I hustled through my routine just so I could get downstairs quicker.
I also realized about mid-shampoo that I was fucking starving. Out of the clear blue, my stomach started rumbling, the thing forcing me to pay it some long overdue attention, and that kicked things into overdrive.
Letting out a stupid little giggle, I check my reflection one more time before I’m going to run way too fast down spiral stairs.
I look like an idiot.
Not because my wet hair is a total disaster, or because I didn’t completely dry off and my clothes are now stuck to my body in relatively inappropriate places. No, I look like an idiot because I have the biggest, stupidest smile on my face. And I’mgiggling.
It’s amazing what a forced intervention—complete with unloading emotional bullshit and professions of love—can do for a person.
It’s fucking magical.
And it’s exactly why I whip open the bathroom door, ready to sprint my way around my loft but come to a complete halt when I’m met with the wild eyes of an American traditional style panther.
Huh, I’d almost forgotten about that.
God, we were stupid kids.
About two years into the band, the five of us decided to get matching tattoos. Because Norm was finally brave enough to do more than something tiny, and why the hell not.
At first it was ok, we each just got an EAP-style raven tattooed on our body somewhere, paying homage to our band as well the spooky king who inspired us. But as the day went on andmany, many drinks were consumed, we agreed that there should be a much more obvioussymbol of our love and unity as a band.
Mark gets pretty philosophical right before he hits black-out drunk.
One thing led to another, and we wound up back at our favorite tattoo parlor for close to ten hours while we each got an American traditional style big cat tattooed somewhere on our backs.
I have a tiger, Pete has a lion, Norm got a cheetah and for some unknown reason, Markus got a domestic short hair. A Maine coon, more specifically, his claim being that it was still abig cat.American traditional colors and all.
I watch Lucky from the doorway as he becomes more and more animated on the phone. He’s arguing with someone in Italian, so it’s most likely his mother or brother.
He’s flapping his arms and angrily pointing like the other person is standing in front of him. Lucky’s voice is low and growly, and he is mostdefinitelyannoyed.
And I just take a few minutes to enjoy the show.
Despite the fact that I’ve seen Lucky as close to naked as possible without him actually being naked thousands of times, I take in the sight of him like it’s the first time.
Because right now, things are completely different.
I can openly ogle the hell out of him because we’re... well, I don’t know what to call it, but I love him and he knows it, so I have every right to stare.
Lucky is truly beautiful.
The panther tattoo covers the better part of his back, stopping just shy of the adorable dimples above his... has his ass always been so perfect? It has, who am I kidding. I’m a butt gal, and I’ve slapped and pinched all four of their asses enough to know each of them are phenomenal.
Boys with bubble butts are one of my weaknesses, and I was blessed with four of them to grope regularly. With their consent, of course.
The fresh pair of jeans really emphasizes Lucky’s, though. I mean, I could bounce quarters off that thing but the denim might split if I did because it is clinging for dear life to his ass and tree-trunk legs.
Fuck, I’m hot.
It’s like my whole body is lit up like a motherboard responding to the power switch, so I bite my lip and continue with my perusal. Why not, right?
The sleeves of his artwork start in a perfect arch at each off his shoulders, wrapping around his biceps that are the size of my thighs before continuing down his corded forearms to his fabulous hands.
Lucky’s hands that are aggressively pushing through his wild hair while the Italian flies from his lips in frustration.
