Trevor’s stomach forced him from the room long past noon.
He ate something, went out into the garage with his grandmother to check on the seedlings for the yard and to work on a list for their next trip to the garden center, then took care of the dinner vegetables.
Afterward, though it was still early afternoon and not evening, Trevor stuck a hat on his head and clipped the leash onto Ellie’s azure collar to go for a long walk and think about putting a faceless, nameless warrior into Situations. Because the nameless warrior had to have the sort of past to make his encounter with the dragon all that much more poignant… and hot.
Trevor watched some videos by creators he admired with his headphones in while his grandmother cooked, then he cleaned up so she could rest again. It was in most ways like a hundred other days, except for the spark of an idea at the back of his mind as he went through the motions.
His grandma commented on his lack of skills in the kitchen the way she usually did, saying his mother should have taught him to do better. To which Trevor responded, as he usually did, that his mom wasn’t much of a cook but his grandma shouldn’t tell her he said that. Anyway, Trevor knew the basics, and frozen food and takeout existed.
Sky sent him a message halfway through the evening, checking to see if Trevor was down for an online gaming session later that week. It wasn’t the same as seeing each other in person, but Sky was in another state. He, like Trevor, mostly stayed inside these days, and games still counted as socializing.
Not for the first time, Trevor thought about saving up for a flight to see Sky, but he had bills and he wasn’t going to take money from his grandma to pay them. And Sky couldn’t come here. Well, he could, if he took care while traveling, but it would be a frustrating visit. They’d have to be quiet as mice. Trevor’s grandmother would keep wondering when Sky was going to move back here so he and Trevor could date again. And then… Sky would have to leave.
Trevor hadn’t liked Sky leaving the first time. He’d had to fight not to grab him and pull him back.
Sky had insisted that the move was temporary, that it had to be. But Trevor had known the truth. Anyway, Covid had put an end to the idea of visits. Trevor would have to content himself with text conversations and video sessions.
But he thought of it anyway, Sky here with him, Sky on his laptop in the garden while Trevor worked on the plants—something that still amazed Trevor because who could have guessed Trevor would take to gardening so well? Or Sky on the couch with them while Trevor’s grandma tried to be supportive by putting on shows like Queer Eye or Drag Race. How playing with or fucking Sky might burn off some of the energy that led to detailed drawings of clawed hands digging into the flesh of a hairy ass.
And then he could brush Sky’s hair from Sky’s sweaty face while Sky grumbled but allowed it and curled against Trevor for comfort the way he didn’t for anyone else, no matter how spiky Sky got about cuddles when he was around other people.
It burned that Trevor couldn’t do that anymore. Of course, he hadn’t been able to since before the plague hit. Sky’s job had wanted him to move, and the opportunity and money had been too great to pass up. Especially to stay with an artist with a part-time day job and a crappy apartment in a small city neither of them particularly liked but which was close to Trevor’s family. Trevor had been the only reason Sky had considered saying no to the offer, which was why Trevor had insisted that Sky say yes. Trevor was a bit of a loser. Sky was a genius. He needed a job that stimulated his incredible brain. He wouldn’t be happy otherwise.
Trevor had been pushy about it, but Sky listened best when Trevor was pushy. And Sky was happy in his new job, even, maybe especially, because he worked from home now. Long distance wouldn’t have made Sky happy, because no matter how difficult he was about asking for them, Sky needed those cuddles. From someone, even if that wasn’t Trevor. Although if Sky was getting them elsewhere, he was kind enough not to tell Trevor about it.
But they were still friends, best friends. Sky was still the DM when the group managed to get together for an online gaming session. And sometimes Sky asked, in his way, for more.
Just not in person. No sweaty hair to be brushed back. No waiting for Sky’s eyes to focus and getting Sky a cup of herbal tea to hold as he returned to the world. No cuddles.
Unless Sky had gotten those from someone else recently, Sky could probably also use some relief since it had been a week or so since the last time they’d talked like that. But if not, he’d at least understand Trevor’s current horny dragon predicament. Sky understood most things.
Trevor messaged back and forth with him about dragon magic and physiology until his grandmother turned off the hall lights in a subtle way to tell him she was off to bed and would appreciate less light and noise. She also said to say good night to Sky even though Trevor hadn’t mentioned who he was messaging. He assured her he would be quiet since he hadn’t even been paying attention to whatever was playing on TV.
He got up to let Ellie out into the backyard, then spent some time researching illustrated book distribution even though he was ages away from having anything resembling a completed book that he could print and the sexual content would make distribution tricky anyway. Conventions maybe would help with that… whenever cons were realistically doable for him in the future.
He got a message from Sky in the middle of his musing: Is this the first person the dragon has kept as treasure?
The notebook was back in Trevor’s hands in an instant. He was inclined to say yes, but then he wondered.
Maybe. Or maybe his first human. Or nonmagical human, he replied. Not that human magic would do much against a creature that fearsome or powerful.
Overwhelming? Sky asked, tone impossible to read through text until he elaborated. Imagine being the best warrior, or whatever. Being the best. And then even magic means nothing where you are. So you’re nothing but a small, helpless thing once it has you. That would be unknown, terrifying.
Trevor had no interest in being a small, helpless thing but that comment wasn’t about him. Terrifying?
Then it gives them everything they want. That’s terrifying too, in a different way. What does it say about them that they enjoy it?
Trevor shifted in his seat. But the dragon likes the best and wants to keep them.
Sky grasped things so quickly. Mmm never letting go. The dragon has never done that, not like this. And with someone who has never been taken in that way? Fuck. Fuck you have to do that.
Have the dragon make the squirming warrior his?
To pin down a creature like that, the dragon might be unintentionally—or intentionally—rough. It might make a mistake or two, mistakes that could lead to hurt feelings or pain… or get sexy real fast.
His, Sky said, not a question, ending Trevor’s worrying. Please.
Trevor had to take a few long moments to get back to thinking about the fictional warrior. That was what they were supposed to be talking about. Maybe it was what they were talking about and he was imagining things.
His, Trevor answered at last, but wasn’t sure if Sky had gone back to work or fallen asleep. He didn’t respond right away, so Trevor tried to focus on fantasy concerns.
He would have to decide on more about the warrior to know how he would react to being treasure. Someone used to fighting and a hard life, absolutely shocked that he would be treated as such a prize? No one would be expecting him to be taken and enjoy it so much. People usually wanted their monsterfucking to involve the more typical heroes and heroines, or lithe, hairless, delicate creatures, or someone small and bookish, maybe a saucy bard. Never someone so overtly strong.
The warrior’s backstory would change the nature of the encounter, not that Trevor’s cock cared about that after hours spent imagining a variety of sexual positions, and the sounds someone like that would make if they were helpless in a dragon’s coils, and Sky’s reaction to both of those things.
His, Sky had said.
Trevor wasn’t thinking about it.
He might get hurt, Trevor warned.
Like that bothers you all that much, Sky startled him with a quick reply. He can take it, can’t he? That’s why the dragon wanted him in the first place I bet.
Yes.
Will you show me when you draw that?
Of course.
This is going to be hot, you know. People will love it.
For a second, Trevor was perilously close to blushing. You’ll like it at least. My most important audience member.
If they’d been on the phone, he might have caught Sky’s reaction to that. In text, all he got was, Am I? And then a dragon emoji bookended by hearts.
Sky went back to work shortly after, or must have. He probably wasn’t sleeping, though he should have been. Trevor held in his questions about that to focus on the roughly handled treasure and the images he was going to send Sky whenever he finished them.
Of course, in between the mental pictures of a thick warrior getting plowed were glimpses of a slighter but far more terrifying figure being pinned down and slowly opened up for the fucking he would beg for. Next to each other, the images were enough to make Trevor’s mouth go dry.
He debated unzipping to take care of himself there and then, though already knew he wouldn’t because even the off chance of his grandmother walking in was enough to at least temporarily kill the mood. He adjusted himself, got up to let Ellie back inside and lock the door behind her, and was heading toward his bedroom when a knock at the front door stopped him.
It hadn’t been loud enough to disturb his grandmother in her room, but Trevor glanced down the hall toward her anyway before moving cautiously toward the front door.
His phone didn’t have any new messages, but that didn’t rule out a thoughtless family member showing up to pick up or drop off something on some other family member’s orders. If not that, then it was more than likely Nancy with something for his grandmother related to their conversation earlier.
Still, the memory of some weirdly combative apartment neighbors made Trevor look through the peephole before he even touched the doorknob.
Mulberry Court’s one streetlight showed a sturdy figure with short hair and a shirt of blue check flannel. A figure about the size and shape of G.G., which couldn’t be right. But no, that was G.G. turned to one side and waiting at the edge of the porch, as far from the door as one could be without falling down the steps. Trevor stared for another moment, then flipped on the porch light. He put his phone in his pocket, ran a hand over his head as if he had hair to check, then opened the door.
The startlingly direct gaze met his, then dropped, then came up again, slower, as if G.G.’s attention had briefly gotten stuck on Trevor’s jeans or his tattoos. Then G.G. frowned, and it seemed to Trevor that his eyebrows were the same as the rest of him—fierce, although Trevor couldn’t have explained why since G.G. was hardly aggressive. He was hovering and half-turned away on the far edge of the porch, and he stared and then blinked as if he didn’t know what to make of Trevor’s silence.
His eyes were hazel, exactly as Trevor had predicted.
“Gigi?” Trevor finally remembered to speak, but winced at the soft pronunciation.
G.G., if he noticed it, didn’t seem to care. “I wonder if your grandmother is home?” His voice had not gotten less hoarse in the last few hours, although the sound wasn’t harsh, just husky. Maybe because he wasn’t shouting across the court this time. Or maybe he thought Trevor needed a gentle prompt.
Because Trevor was staring at him without speaking again.
Trevor mentally slapped himself. “She’s always home.” He gave this useless answer and was saved from further embarrassment by Ellie, who came to stand at Trevor’s side and peer hopefully at the visitor. “Sit, Ellie,” Trevor ordered quietly, glancing down when her tail thumped against the floor in excitement. “Good girl,” he praised her, then looked back at G.G. “Oh, you’ve never met. This is Ellie. Her pedigree name is Eden Lane’s Lady Errol, because you know, breeder rules and how the name has to stand out, but the initials spell E.L.L.E. so…” Trevor, much like Ellie, was way too excited to have a visitor and it showed. He shut his mouth, met G.G.’s startled gaze, and tried again. “My grandmother is asleep. Can I help you with something?”
As he asked it, he consciously noticed the dark smears across the front of G.G.’s shirt, the pallor to his skin, and then, when G.G. turned to face him more directly, the line of blood across his cheekbone, the kind of thing that happened when someone with blood on their hands accidentally touched their face.
Which was when the rest of Trevor’s brain caught up with the striped dishtowel wrapped around one of G.G.’s hands, which G.G. was holding to his chest above his heart. “Oh shit. Are you okay? Come in.” Trevor waved Ellie back. “We’ve got a first-aid kit. I’m not sure if we’ve got anything for something major, but I can drive to…”
“That’s all right. Thank you.” G.G. spoke with polite formality, voice still rough, his hand almost definitely still bleeding. “I’ve got it.”
“Really,” Trevor protested, because no one wrapped a dishtowel around their hand and got that much blood on their clothes and showed up at their neighbor’s house for anything easily solved. “I can help. It’s no trouble. I can at least get you another towel.” And clean the blood from his face. And sit him down so he wouldn’t look so faint.
“Really,” G.G. echoed back to him, after a pause that went on long enough for Trevor to wonder if G.G. might faint for real. He held out his injured hand for a moment, and the towel was currently free of blood but whatever was beneath it probably wasn’t. “Really,” he said again, almost confused as he stared up into Trevor’s eyes. “I’m—I will be—fine. I’ve got it.”
“But you’re here.” Trevor was not arguing with an injured man. He was trying to get one of them to see reason. There had to be reason here someplace. He firmed his voice. “Let me take care of this.”
G.G. made a sound. Trevor couldn’t have classified it if he’d tried, but Ellie let out a garbled whine in response.
G.G. glanced down to her. “The hospital and Urgent Care are closed at this hour, so I’m going to the ER for stitches.” He spoke to the dog, then looked up again. “If there is a long wait, which I assume there will be” –there was a long wait at the nearest ER even without recurring pandemic waves of infections slowing things down— “I was hoping you or your grandmother could look in on my cats… cat… in the morning.” He cleared his throat. “It would just be to make sure she has food. She has a water fountain and the litter box is cleaned on a timer. She won’t like being alone but you don’t need to pet her if you don’t like cats….”
He trailed off at the end of his explanation, perhaps because Trevor was staring again.
“I didn’t realize you had cats—a cat,” Trevor offered, knowing better than to press when someone had to correct something like the number of pets they had. That meant a recent loss. “And yes, sure, of course. Do you have a spare key or a security code or anything else I’ll need?”
That stopped G.G. again. “Margaret has my spare key.”
As though Trevor could have known that. As though his grandma had ever once thought to mention that she was apparently trusted enough by their hermit crab neighbor to have a key to his house.
Trevor took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said carefully, in the calm, controlled voice of someone leading a shaking poodle into the vet’s office. “I can do that. But do you need me to call someone for you? Or drive you to the ER? It’s no problem. I mean that. It’s nice to have someone to sit with you while you wait in a hospital.”
G.G.’s eyes met his, less fierce the longer Trevor spent looking into them. G.G. didn’t seem ferocious anymore. He was tired and strained and more than a little confused, apparently by Trevor.
“They don’t want anyone in the hospital who doesn’t need to be there,” G.G. finally answered, huskier than before. Then he nodded. “But thank you.”
With that final display of manners, he stepped down from the porch to head back toward his house, bleeding and alone, like a shorter Batman with a striped dishtowel over one hand.
Trevor didn’t close the door until G.G.’s truck had left the court. Then he turned to look down at Ellie, who whined and rolled over to show her belly.
“That was as close to a hero’s sexy nemesis showing up at their doorstep bloodied and in need of help because they had nowhere else to go as I am ever going to get. That’s going to end up in the story, in one form or another.” He said this nonsense to his dog because he was shaking with the urge to do something and there was nothing to be done.
But he wasn’t ready to write or draw yet, so he grabbed Ellie’s leash and walked until he felt more settled and Ellie was so tired that she passed out in her dog bed moments after they got back.
He told Sky about the whole encounter in an email because that many messages would have lit up Sky’s phone and he wanted Sky to try to sleep at a normal time. Sky didn’t always, but having an adult job often meant needing to function during regular business hours, and if Sky didn’t enforce his own bedtime, that left Trevor to do it for him.
That was all Trevor could do, despite any other thoughts he had about it or any schedules he might have penciled into the blue notebook that he thought of as Sky’s even if he’d never mentioned it to Sky himself.
Sky’s days and nights were not Trevor’s and Trevor shouldn’t assume they were. Trevor had created that boundary about nights in particular and was good about sticking to it. Sky hadn’t complained, but regardless, Trevor wasn’t going to get in his way. That was the whole point.
Not that it mattered, since, as if Sky had answered that email first thing before all his work stuff, Trevor woke up to a message.
You don’t have a nemesis. Your door would be the first place to go, not the last.
Trevor smiled into his pillow.