Usually, that would set him off, prompt him to spring from his bed and tackle the offender onto the floor. He would swipe the dagger hidden at the side drawer, and latch it onto their throat, stare deep into their eyes as rueful fear settles upon their face for even trying to usurp him.

Leto has been through enough training with his armed guards to lock himself in a constant fight mode, awakened his reflexes to protect himself from any potential threat that might befall the Duke of the venerable House Atreides.

Even in the weakened, drowsy state he is currently in, his body would rouse to attention, muscles taut and ready to fight back if he so commands.

But, it’s you — he recognises the sultry rhythm your body sways to, and the velvet glide of your skin against his. That comfortable weight that drags along his olive skin; not too heavy to suffocate him, yet enough gravitas to swaddle him snug like his nursemaid once did when he was just a babe.

You disarm him. You make him want to throw his hands up in sweet surrender. In fact, you can reach for the dagger and carve the sharp edges into the meat of his thighs, threaten to cut off his balls, henceforth severing the Atreides line forever — and he will let you.

The power you have over him, it is stronger than any mind games a Bene Gesserit witch can impose on him.

Only with you, Leto submits — as your thighs flank his forearms decisively, shackling him. As your naked crotch rubs against his chest, in parallel with his heart where it pulses mutedly under the radiating warmth of your cunt — a different kind of fever he doesn’t mind revisiting, over and over again.

He succumbs to your assertive hands sweeping up the length of his thighs, nimble fingers caressing the contours of his hipbones. He sighs in placid submission, as they slide between the mattress and his buttocks, and without so much as a struggle — none at all, lets you push his undergarment down his legs, blissful to the puffs of heated breath warming his cock, already twitching against the chilly air.

He keeps his eyes closed, pretending he is still asleep when he is already wide awake behind the shuttered lids. But, he is fooling no one — his hardon has already given him away, straining to attention of its own volition, waking up and keening to your slow, caring strokes as you rub him to a full, stiff mast.

Leto feels your lips rain kisses upon his slit, soft and soothing like the pitter-patters that rouse the pleasant smell of petrichor right outside the window — before your mouth closes over the tip, your quiet hums crooning deliciously around his girth, like you have just sampled the best foods the Caladanian chefs have to offer for the Duke’s favourite concubine — favourite lover.

His eyes peel open, heavy-lidded as they rake down the salacious dip along your spine — oh, what a lovely sight to wake up to.

He would gladly give in to whatever ailments that weaken his every sense, rid of his dominion of the Atreides armada, and render himself but a mere soldier on the brink of death — if this is what awaits him on the other side.

He basks at the sight of your plump arsecheeks moving in front of his face, brushing teasingly against the tip of his nose, riling him up to cup a feel, to touch you.

Go on, my dear Duke, you know you want to — you want him to.

So, he obeys — large hands gliding up your thighs to the globes of your cheeks, kneading lightly, firmly. You arch into his welcoming touch, pressing your crotch flush against his sternum, as you moan around him — a ricocheting effect that pulls a strangled gasp from his lungs, granting you full permission to pick up speed, to shove a few more inches of his cock into your mouth.

His eyes roll back, chin tipped skyward and nostrils flaring to grasp at the alluring scent of your sex. He can smell you now, beckoning him with a mouthwatering aroma that reminds him of seasalt but which he knows tastes like warm, sweet honey — greater than the coveted spice melange that rules kingdoms and peoples.

The mere thought of your slick hitting his tongue, it’s enough to elicit a ravenous groan from his chest, his fingers digging into your plush skin — clawing for more.

Leto hears you — gagging sloppily, so beautifully around his cock, as his fat, aching tip thrusts deeper into the heated cavern of your mouth. Your tongue is like soft satin, cushioning the base of his veined shaft. Your jaw like desperate shackles, squeezing him so lovingly when it hits the back of your throat — drawing from you a melodious choral that shoots sparks down to his belly, wringing fresh spurts of pre-cum down your throat.

Your one hand pumps affirmative strokes along the rigid length in gratitude — thankful for what he has gifted you. The other, expert fingers fondle the robust orbs, as you suckle him like the most devout, so very eager to please your Duke — your master.

Your tongue swirls in hefty stripes, stretching along his weeping cock. Your cunt grinds against his broad chest, heaving to the rhythm of his heartbeat — stealing for yourself whatever friction you need to dance to his song.

You whimper, when his hand drifts between the buried alcove of your thighs. And right there at the apex, his thumb traces reverence along your sensitive nub — softly, so terribly soft.

He feels you gush around his fingers, and with your silky smooth release, he smears coaxing circles around your clit, kindling a guttural purr against his stomach, where he feels your heart thrums with wanting ache — practically begging for the affirmation only he can provide to satiate you, make you feel seen.

Leto likes it when you beg. You rarely do that in court. You never ask for more than what you think you deserve, so stoically demure as your footsteps thread down the vaulted halls. Even when they carry you past the heavy doors into his chamber, where you look after him so diligently — in bed, in sickness and in health.

But, when you do beg, he can’t help but offer you in kind what he thinks you deserve for your loyal and honourable service — everything. He would’ve given you the world if he could. He would’ve married you tomorrow, made you his Duchess if the Mentat calculations proclaim you compatible. He would’ve loved you with his whole heart until the day he dies even if they don’t.

Alas. This is all he can give you — his fingers digging into your skin, prying open your arsecheeks for the glorious sight of your cunt, blossoming pink like the first springtime bloom in the courtyards of Castle Caladan; throbbing right in front of his eyes — calling out to him to touch you there.

So, he obliges — touches you where it hurts, eases two fingers into your puckered hole until the web of his palm kisses your lips, scissoring to spread you out like a sumptuous feast waiting to be devoured.

Your slick trickles down his wrist, your hearty moan resonates around his cock, squeezing a stringy groan from deep within him, as his eyes flutter shut to savour everything that you have to give him.

The wet, hot sludge of your pussy, dying embers rekindled around his drenched digits. And when they crook at that devastating spot inside you, massaging billowing circles with just a smidge of pressure, he feels your thighs tense up as you squirt so desperately to his come hither.

And the sound you make — mewling with your mouth so full of him, it’s ethereal music his Warmaster can never pluck from the strings of his baliset, talented as he is with the instrument.

It makes Leto want you more, frenzied fingers biting into the meat of your calves to pull you closer, until your knees are digging into his shoulders. His growing beard rutting abrasion against your inner thighs, his growling mouth finally coming in contact with your clit — he goes in for the kill.

You release his cock, crying out in sweet surprise, when his tongue nudges into you, lapping at your bundle of nerves without any ducal decorum. His large hand presses upon the small of your back, to hold you in place, pull your arched form into his labouring mouth.

He plants his feet flat on the bed, angling his cock right back into your gaping mouth, silencing your outcries to smothered whimpers. His undulating hips drive himself deeper into you, filling you to the brim as the leaking head rams against the roof of your mouth, making you gag and drool down your quivering chin in a muffling mess.

Leto hums hoarsely against your cunt when your teeth drag along the veinous ridge for purchase, for any sense of control, when you’re already squirming, already unravelling to his desired device.

He knows you are close. He feels your pussy flutter at his ministrations.

He buries his nose against you, heaving in lungfuls of your tangy scent. His tongue teasing you in a quickened momentum, slurps hungrily like a man deprived of food for days.

Your hips gyrating against his chest, matching the temptuous tempo of his fingers, prodding in and out of you —

Until you clench around him. Your whole body shivering and your nails scraping at his inner thighs as you cum. His tongue flicking at your overstimulated nub still as he carries you through the storm.

You let out a long, stifled drawl around his cock, and he harmonises with you a delectable shudder that hitches in his throat, as he drinks in every drop of your honeyed offering, like sweet medicine to cure him of this insatiable disease.

Then, he pulls away just to see your pussy dribble onto his chest, painting him a lovely sheen — making him yours.

Leto’s eyes flitter shut, as he slips his anointed fingers into his mouth, revelling in the syrupy taste of you. Your heady scent assaulting his senses, making him dizzy — damn near feral.

It is enough to galvanise him, rocking into your wailing mouth with such dire urgency, as if he’s thrusting his cock into that pretty cunt he’s just fucked till kingdom come with only his mouth and fingers.

In one little moment, it feels like the fever has returned. Hellfire burns through his screaming muscles, as cold sweat licks at his pores. The pressure low in his belly coils tight —

And then he is snarling under your captive body. Balls drawing up in your loving hold, and spilling white, hot ropes down your throat, working with such deep devotion as it bobs frantically to take in every drop he has to offer.

He hisses, fingers biting crescents into your arsecheeks, when you hollow your cheeks and suckle at his reddened tip. An encore to make sure you’ve wrung him dry without a straddling drop left.

Until you have had your claim of him — all of him.

Only then, the storm clouds pass, and the rain subsides to mere whispers. His skin cools, and the thunder in his ears dwindles — and all he can hear is the steadfast sound of your heavy breathing.

Leto feels your heartbeat normalising against his abdomen, your fingertips mapping haphazard trails along his bare legs. Pathways covert even to himself, but nonetheless surefooted in finding your way to his heart.

He turns his face against your inner thigh, impressing pliant kisses to your skin, as his hand mirrors your motion. Trying so desperately to pillage his way through the shrouded labyrinth, and finally come home to where your heart lays.

His hooded eyes keep watch of you, as you drop your head and hum against his softening cock — a song that is already fading, even before he can learn the notes, memorise the words.

In knowing that, tears brim in his eyes before he can stop himself. His hand slides up your body, rubbing soothing circles up your spine; dislodges himself from under you to align his naked form against yours — from the tips of your toes, to the curves of your waists, to the rounds of your shoulders, where he brushes his lips and tries to lay his claim of you — all of you; when in truth, he has barely enough of you to hold on to from the start.

While you — you already have all of him.

Because that is all that he can offer you.

His most devout, his loyal servant.

His favourite concubine, his favourite lover —

Everything that you deserve.

//

Anselm: Precisely. I’ve made a habit of always taking things as they come, or taking come, or people coming. Scrutinizing someone about their gender is a tremendous waste of time.

Cecil: I love to get high and cry. My stepdad said that’s not manly…

William: Hey, I can tell you from experience, the men who tell you what’s ‘manly’ are usually psychopaths. They’re empty monsters and they want to turn you into one too. Don’t let them. It’s a road that’s really hard to get off of.

Richard: Focus on being human, not just a man. That means taking care of yourself, and the people you love.

Cecil: Yeah… okay… so, like, I should leave the waitress a tip at the Mexican place because she’s really nice and let me back in the restaurant, even though I almost burned the place down with my homemade flame thrower?

Richard: … … … yes.

Cecil: I wasn’t leaving her a tip because we had sex once and I don’t think you’re supposed to tip someone you’ve slept with. That’s like, etiquette.

Steven: I don’t think that’s how it works, mate. Just, um, if she’s into it, do the gentlemanly thing, but not like, in a misogynist way. If she doesn’t want you to open doors for her, then let her open the door for you.

Cecil: Huh?But she already works at the restaurant. She’s already inside. Open what door? I’m confused.

Nathan: You’re hopeless.

Leto: Start with the basics, Cecil. Pay attention when she talks, be honest about your emotions, and never cheat on her.

Cecil: I’m not that good at any of those.

Leto: I think there’s hope for you Cecil.

Cecil: *sounding truly touched* Thank you. That’s really cool coming from you. You’re my hair idol, and like, a man I want to be like.

Nathan: Anyone who kisses Leto’s ass is booted. Did I not say that before we started the record?

Cecil: See? That sounds manly, Nathan. You say something and shit gets done. I want that kind of authority.

Nathan: What you don’t have in authority, you make up for by bringing really really good weed.

Anselm: Everyone’s strengths are different, Cecil. You’re an adorable drug dealer, and handy with a gun.

Steven: A gun?

Anselm: Cecil here isn’t as timid as he seems, trust me. Made an absolute massacre of revenge at a sad little wedding in the town where we live.

Steven: I dunno if that’s manly, but it is fairly terrifying.

Nathan: Steven, here’s another listener question. What’s your most memorable sexual experience?

Steven: Come on, Nathan. I can’t go telling everyone that. She might be listening. I don’t wanna be rude.

Jake: I’ll tell it. Steven had sex at the Bronx Zoo.

Steven: Jake, you absolute wanker.

Marc: Yeah, that’s not even the most interesting part. They started making out in the reptile house and he had his hand down her pants in all the dark rooms.

Steven: If we’re spilling secrets, I’m telling everyone that you summoned my batons so some woman could fuck you with ‘em.

Marc: Jake lost a costume mustache in some guy’s ass once.

Nathan: In?

Cecil: I had sex in a Bucee Beaver costume. Actually, we were both wearing them.

Poe: Who’s Bucee Beaver?

William: His name’s not actually Bucee, but he is a beaver. It’s the mascot of a truck stop. Really famous in America.

Poe: I didn’t understand most of those words. Like, almost none of them. My most memorable experience was sleeping with a being that had two consciousness. Consciousnesses? They were in two places at once.

Anselm: Like, your mouth and your ass?

Poe: No, one body was having sex with me and the other was downstairs cooking lunch. Then, the body I was with got tired, so they swapped, but it was still the same person.

Steven: You weren’t tired too?

Poe: Yeah, but it wasn’t like I was going to stop. I had a whole other body to satisfy.

Marc: My ex and I did it inside a pyramid once.

Steven: Excuse me? Why didn’t you share that little story before?

Marc: You wouldn’t approve, trust me. Plus, you only wanted to hear about the wedding night.

Steven: *dreamy voice* I love those stories. The only time I’ve ever known you to be romantic.

Nathan: That’s a great segue actually. On the topic of romance, an anonymous caller wants to know: what’s your perfect way to meet someone? What’s your approach?

As far as how I approach a woman, I’m famous and a billionaire.

But, I also live alone in the middle of nowhere. The only people I fly out here work for me. I don’t have a problem mixing work and sex, but some people make it complicated. I think it’s convenient.

For the right woman, though, I’d stop building vaginas into the female models.

Basil? What about you? Living in the city, young, you must meet interesting people.

Basil: I don't get out much. I don't really talk to except for Basil. Not me, Basil. The stuffed monkey, Basil.

Nathan: I hope that's not your opening line.

Basil: I never leave my apartment actually. Not since this happened to my face.

Santiago: Women love scars, man. You've got that mysterious thing going on.

Basil: You think?

Santiago: You'd be surprised. If you let yourself get out there, you'd definitely do very well.

Basil: Sometimes I talk to women online, but I don't know if I can meet someone on the outside without a paper bag over my head.

Santiago: Okay, definitely don't do that.

Basil: How do you meet someone special?

Santiago: It’s kind of old fashioned, but I like to go out and meet people. A bar or a party. I like that thrill of seeing someone from across a room. Making eye contact. Having a conversation where you have to lean in close because the music’s loud.

Jonathan: It’s so tiring to go out all the time, though. I’ve tried all the apps. It’s a mess out there.

Santiago: I don’t even bother with those.

Jonathan: You probably don’t have to. I’m sure it’s easy for you to pick up anyone you want. The apps are almost entirely younger women who want to call you daddy, or women with as much baggage as I have.

Santiago: You’re not interested in either of those things?

Jonathan: I’m very turned on by both. Therein lies the problem.

Anselm: I see no problem. If you want sex, there it is. If you want a relationship, then have one.

Jonathan: *uncomfortable* It’s not that simple.

Anselm: Why not?

Jonathan: … … uh… …

Anselm: I have absolutely no patience for people getting in their own way. Problems should be ended through decision or gunfire. It does no good to ignore them.

Nathan: I don’t know about that. You can learn a lot about someone by picking apart their issues and insecurities.

Anselm: Yes, mind games are fun, but you don’t want to play them with your one and only love.

Nathan: Agree to disagree. I want a partner who can challenge me.

Santiago: You are the challenge. Nothing’s simple with you, don’t worry. All I’m saying is that meeting people in person is way better than online.

Jonathan: I guess I could try it Anselm’s way. If I have a one night stand with a woman I could try to make it more than one night. Dinner or something.

Anselm: Something? Please use a more enticing word.

Jonathan: I’m not like you, Anselm. I don’t have a whole house dedicated to sex. My imagination’s not that good.

Anselm: Well, if you need advice, just text one of us. We’re all happy to help.

Nathan: Have more confidence, man. Plenty of women are into that absent minded professor thing. It’s right up there with men in uniform.

Jonathan: I just wish I could start over, you know?

Nathan: Like, be a virgin again? You couldn’t pay me enough money to do that. Actually, we have a listener question about how we would feel, being someone’s first time.

Jonathan: My first time was… not sexy. I didn’t know what I was doing at all. I hadn’t even really seen porn. She had to basically tell me what to do every step of the way, so I thought that’s what sex was for like, ten years.

Anselm: My first time was in an alpine meadow. The cows kept coming over to see what the fuss was about. Curious creatures. I think it gave me a fetish about milk for awhile.

Victor: I have that too.

Anselm: As for being someone’s first. I would be honored. There would be fanfare, perhaps a band and a party afterward.

Nathan: I don’t like to admit fear, but I think taking someone’s virginity is more terrifying than the singularity.

Santiago: I’ve been someone’s first. It’s really amazing, actually. I was nervous, don’t get me wrong, but I went slow and it was a really great weekend. I still meet up with her sometimes, if I’m going through that part of the world.

Marc: I was with a woman who didn’t tell me she was a virgin until we were in bed, getting undressed. It turned out okay, but I wish she’d told me before. I would’ve done something special.

Santiago: Like what?

Marc: I don’t know. Made dinner at home, lit some candles. Put a big, soft blanket on the bed. Maybe made sure the bathtub was ready for afterward. I tried to make up for it by eating her out before and after.

Santiago: I’m pretty sure she’s happier with the oral sex than a candle. What about you?

Blue: If it’s a girl’s first time, I try to make it good. It’s a thrill, I won’t lie. I give her something nice afterward. A new dress, or her own number at the club.

Poe: If you had to pick someone at this table to be your first, who would it be?

Blue: Laurent maybe? I like that dirty Frenchman thing he has going on.

Poe: Anselm?

Anselm: I would choose you, Poe, obviously.

Nathan: Why obviously?

Anselm: Jealousy does not become you, Nathan. Look at Poe. Dashing, gallant, and sexually, I can tell that he lives to serve.

Poe: … is that a compliment?

Steven: I’d pick you, Anselm. I like the adventure of it.

Nathan: *snort laughs* He’ll give you an adventure all right. He’ll adventure you right into dressing up in an insane outfit and letting him demolish you in some weird role play. Ask me how I know.

Steven: *genuinely asking* How do you know?

Nathan: That was sarcasm, dude. I know because I’ve been there.

Anselm: And a riot of a time it was. I’ve never enjoyed a traditional Midsommar celebration more!

Nathan: Look, we’re almost out of time and- hey- Atreides, quit checking your watch. I told you this would be a solid 60 minutes.

Leto: *sighing* It was a text, okay? It’s a… listener question.

Nathan: This isn’t live, so the only way you’re getting a question this second is if one of these chucklefucks is texting you right now, behind my back.

Leto: Yeah. Huh. I always forget you’re smarter than you look.

Nathan: Go hump a barbed wire fence.

Leto: Do you want to hear the question or not?

Nathan: Go ahead.

Leto: Death. The question is about death. This anonymous person posits that some of us receive an untimely death in our universes.

*awkward silence, throat clearing*

Leto: Nathan?

Nathan: I don’t know, dude. We all have complicated lives to begin with so why would our deaths be any easier?

Leto: But you know more than you’re saying.

Nathan: *angry* What do you want, Leto? You want me to say there’s some alternate dimension where you have a family that loves you and when you get murdered, they wage some kind of war across the universe?

Leto: No, that would be ridiculous.

Nathan: *raises his voice* Do you want to hear that a fucking meteorite crashes into Earth and kills Anselm?

Leto: Nathan, calm down.

Nathan: That Marc, Steven, and Jake never get an ending at all?

Leto: Nath-

Nathan: *sounding a little insane* Why can’t we just live in the here and now? Huh? Who the fuck asked about death? WHO?

*silence*

Leto: *quietly* What happens to you, Nathan?

Steven: Mate, ‘s alright. We’re all of us alive and well here. You can tell us.

Nathan: *quietly* None of you gets it. I don’t think most of us have death in common. Actually, we have something a lot worse that runs through every one of our lives. We all go straight into situations where we know we could die, where we probably will. That’s the thread that binds us. Not curly hair or this nose or our eyes. We’re all so fucked up.

Richard: I don’t do that. Really. I don’t put myself in danger.

Nathan: You work with death-row inmates.

Richard: Yeah, maybe you make a good point.

Basil: I didn't ask to get struck by lightning, but Nathan's right. I really lost it afterward.

Victor: If I may interject, I know a fair bit about death and life. It’s my entire existence actually. Fear of death is natural. I have found, however, that one is only truly afraid of death is one feels they haven’t done enough living.

Perhaps, like me, you feel you’ve contributed to humanity, but you, yourself, have nothing to actually show for it. With egos as big as ours, that’s a difficult conclusion to reach.

Nathan: I wasn’t trying to create life through artificial intelligence for humanity, Victor. It was just *sigh* … it felt-

Victor: Inevitable.

Nathan: Yeah.

Victor: The burden of intellect.

Cecil: Yeah.

Nathan: You feel the burden of intellect?

Cecil: … … … What are we talking about?

Marc: Hey, it’s not the burden of intellect or whatever. It’s that we’re all kind of control freaks who have zero control over our own lives.

Steven: He’s right. Feels to me I’m just a character in a story sometimes, being pulled this way and that. This job. That job. Living here. Living there. Trousers on. Trousers off.

William: You’re all correct, I think, but that doesn’t mean we stop trying.

Steven: Trying what?

William: To do what we can, however insignificant it feels to us.

Poe: Nothing, and no one, is insignificant. I believe that with my whole heart.

Jonathan: Nathan, the kind of questions you’re having, they’re a lot like the ones I debate in my work. They’re important, yes, but remember, you still have to eat meals. Go to the bathroom. Sleep. Life goes on. Time keeps moving.

Nathan: I get your point, but it doesn’t. Not when you’re all here. We’re kind of out of time and space.

Leto: So, when you told me this would only be an hour?

Nathan: It’s actually infinity. Or it’s nothing. There’s kind of no difference around this table. Besides, talking to you feels like torture for eternity, so what do you care?

Leto: *mumbles* I hate you in every universe.

Anselm: So, in a way, Nathan, you’re saving all of us, simply by having us as guests on your little pod-cast.

Nathan: It’s just one word. Podcast.

Anselm: Pod-cast

Nathan: Podcast

Anselm: Pahd-cahst

Nathan: Just say it quickly. Podcast.

Anselm: Oh what the devil do I care what it’s called? I simply enjoy being here. I’m grateful to have met all of you.

Leto: I have to admit, it’s very interesting.

Victor: Yes, I don’t feel quite so alone anymore.

Basil: Me either.

Anselm: Coincidentally, what does happen to you?

Nathan: I get stabbed at my house by an ai woman I made myself.

Anselm: *sound of gun cocking* That is unacceptable! Where is she?

Nathan: Put that away. You can’t fix it like that.

Anselm: I think you’ll find that I can.

Santiago: Here, let me.

*sound of gun being yanked away, magazine and bullet ejecting*

Santiago: Here’s question: if you could fix anything in your universe, what would it be? I’d have figured out a way to go back and get the millions of dollars I left in the Andes mountains.

Marc: I would’ve introduced myself to Steven and Jake a long time ago.

Steve: Cheers, Marc I would’ve done the same.

Leto: I would’ve spent more time with my father.

William: I never would’ve joined the fucking Army.

Richard: I would’ve asked that girl out in high school, the one I had a crush on for years.

Jonathan: I can’t even pick. Too much to choose from.

Victor: My friend, we’re drinking from the same teapot of shame.

Laurent: I should’ve finished art school.

Cecil: I wish I hadn’t told everybody that the Taco Bell near my house gave me explosive diarrhea because then people stopped going there and it closed. God. I really miss that Taco Bell.

Santiago: Why did you lie about something like that?

Cecil: It wasn’t a lie. I just wish I hadn’t said anything out loud. Then, I’d still be able to get a chalupa supreme in under five minutes.

Anselm: Well, I live my live with zero regrets. Geschehen ist geschehen. What’s happened is happened. Or, as I like to say, onto the next hole.

Nathan: That’s gross. I get what you’re saying, though. Time ever only moves in one direction. Although, technically, I could use the machine to go back in time, but-

Leto: What?

Nathan: I mean, I could probably-

Leto: Hey, could you bring me back to a very specific night about two years ago?

Nathan: Why?

Leto: There was this woman-

Nathan: I’m not interfering with the space time continuum just so you can get laid.

Jake: What about me? I got a look at Jonathan’s ex wife and I’d like to take her for a ride in my cab, so to speak.

Nathan: This isn’t a crossover event.

Poe: Can I use it to make a teeny-tiny little adjustment and never join a bunch of drug runners? I’d like to retcon that whole thing.

Nathan: There’s no way you were in a drug gang. That’s obviously a lie. You’re a goody two shoes.

Poe: *under his breath* I had a bad boy phase.

Nathan: Sure you did, Poe, and I’m a big, blue, omniscient alien who can control matter with my mind. Whatever.

I think we’ve stretched the limit of all of us being in one room. I have to start putting you back in your universes or shit might start to break permanently.

Doing this is the most fun I have, so, you know, thank you for sending in your questions.

I think I should get us all chalupas to celebrate.

Poe: What’s a chalupa?

Cecil: You’re gonna love it!

Anselm: I’m going to call you my little chalupa from now on.

Nathan: Until next time, I’m Nathan Bateman. Thank you for listening, thank you for subscribing, and please, if Anselm Vogelweide ever asks you to put on a white dress and a flower crown, and to treat his dick like a may pole, please keep in mind that the tea he gives you afterward is definitely hallucinogenic.

**Outro Music Fades Up**

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Anselm: Precisely. I’ve made a habit of always taking things as they come, or taking come, or people coming. Scrutinizing someone about their gender is a tremendous waste of time.

Cecil: I love to get high and cry. My stepdad said that’s not manly…

William: Hey, I can tell you from experience, the men who tell you what’s ‘manly’ are usually psychopaths. They’re empty monsters and they want to turn you into one too. Don’t let them. It’s a road that’s really hard to get off of.

Richard: Focus on being human, not just a man. That means taking care of yourself, and the people you love.

Cecil: Yeah… okay… so, like, I should leave the waitress a tip at the Mexican place because she’s really nice and let me back in the restaurant, even though I almost burned the place down with my homemade flame thrower?

Richard: … … … yes.

Cecil: I wasn’t leaving her a tip because we had sex once and I don’t think you’re supposed to tip someone you’ve slept with. That’s like, etiquette.

Steven: I don’t think that’s how it works, mate. Just, um, if she’s into it, do the gentlemanly thing, but not like, in a misogynist way. If she doesn’t want you to open doors for her, then let her open the door for you.

Cecil: Huh?But she already works at the restaurant. She’s already inside. Open what door? I’m confused.

Nathan: You’re hopeless.

Leto: Start with the basics, Cecil. Pay attention when she talks, be honest about your emotions, and never cheat on her.

Cecil: I’m not that good at any of those.

Leto: I think there’s hope for you Cecil.

Cecil: *sounding truly touched* Thank you. That’s really cool coming from you. You’re my hair idol, and like, a man I want to be like.

Nathan: Anyone who kisses Leto’s ass is booted. Did I not say that before we started the record?

Cecil: See? That sounds manly, Nathan. You say something and shit gets done. I want that kind of authority.

Nathan: What you don’t have in authority, you make up for by bringing really really good weed.

Anselm: Everyone’s strengths are different, Cecil. You’re an adorable drug dealer, and handy with a gun.

Steven: A gun?

Anselm: Cecil here isn’t as timid as he seems, trust me. Made an absolute massacre of revenge at a sad little wedding in the town where we live.

Steven: I dunno if that’s manly, but it is fairly terrifying.

Nathan: Steven, here’s another listener question. What’s your most memorable sexual experience?

Steven: Come on, Nathan. I can’t go telling everyone that. She might be listening. I don’t wanna be rude.

Jake: I’ll tell it. Steven had sex at the Bronx Zoo.

Steven: Jake, you absolute wanker.

Marc: Yeah, that’s not even the most interesting part. They started making out in the reptile house and he had his hand down her pants in all the dark rooms.

Steven: If we’re spilling secrets, I’m telling everyone that you summoned my batons so some woman could fuck you with ‘em.

Marc: Jake lost a costume mustache in some guy’s ass once.

Nathan: In?

Cecil: I had sex in a Bucee Beaver costume. Actually, we were both wearing them.

Poe: Who’s Bucee Beaver?

William: His name’s not actually Bucee, but he is a beaver. It’s the mascot of a truck stop. Really famous in America.

Poe: I didn’t understand most of those words. Like, almost none of them. My most memorable experience was sleeping with a being that had two consciousness. Consciousnesses? They were in two places at once.

Anselm: Like, your mouth and your ass?

Poe: No, one body was having sex with me and the other was downstairs cooking lunch. Then, the body I was with got tired, so they swapped, but it was still the same person.

Steven: You weren’t tired too?

Poe: Yeah, but it wasn’t like I was going to stop. I had a whole other body to satisfy.

Marc: My ex and I did it inside a pyramid once.

Steven: Excuse me? Why didn’t you share that little story before?

Marc: You wouldn’t approve, trust me. Plus, you only wanted to hear about the wedding night.

Steven: *dreamy voice* I love those stories. The only time I’ve ever known you to be romantic.

Nathan: That’s a great segue actually. On the topic of romance, an anonymous caller wants to know: what’s your perfect way to meet someone? What’s your approach?

As far as how I approach a woman, I’m famous and a billionaire.

But, I also live alone in the middle of nowhere. The only people I fly out here work for me. I don’t have a problem mixing work and sex, but some people make it complicated. I think it’s convenient.

For the right woman, though, I’d stop building vaginas into the female models.

Basil? What about you? Living in the city, young, you must meet interesting people.

Basil: I don't get out much. I don't really talk to except for Basil. Not me, Basil. The stuffed monkey, Basil.

Nathan: I hope that's not your opening line.

Basil: I never leave my apartment actually. Not since this happened to my face.

Santiago: Women love scars, man. You've got that mysterious thing going on.

Basil: You think?

Santiago: You'd be surprised. If you let yourself get out there, you'd definitely do very well.

Basil: Sometimes I talk to women online, but I don't know if I can meet someone on the outside without a paper bag over my head.

Santiago: Okay, definitely don't do that.

Basil: How do you meet someone special?

Santiago: It’s kind of old fashioned, but I like to go out and meet people. A bar or a party. I like that thrill of seeing someone from across a room. Making eye contact. Having a conversation where you have to lean in close because the music’s loud.

Jonathan: It’s so tiring to go out all the time, though. I’ve tried all the apps. It’s a mess out there.

Santiago: I don’t even bother with those.

Jonathan: You probably don’t have to. I’m sure it’s easy for you to pick up anyone you want. The apps are almost entirely younger women who want to call you daddy, or women with as much baggage as I have.

Santiago: You’re not interested in either of those things?

Jonathan: I’m very turned on by both. Therein lies the problem.

Anselm: I see no problem. If you want sex, there it is. If you want a relationship, then have one.

Jonathan: *uncomfortable* It’s not that simple.

Anselm: Why not?

Jonathan: … … uh… …

Anselm: I have absolutely no patience for people getting in their own way. Problems should be ended through decision or gunfire. It does no good to ignore them.

Nathan: I don’t know about that. You can learn a lot about someone by picking apart their issues and insecurities.

Anselm: Yes, mind games are fun, but you don’t want to play them with your one and only love.

Nathan: Agree to disagree. I want a partner who can challenge me.

Santiago: You are the challenge. Nothing’s simple with you, don’t worry. All I’m saying is that meeting people in person is way better than online.

Jonathan: I guess I could try it Anselm’s way. If I have a one night stand with a woman I could try to make it more than one night. Dinner or something.

Anselm: Something? Please use a more enticing word.

Jonathan: I’m not like you, Anselm. I don’t have a whole house dedicated to sex. My imagination’s not that good.

Anselm: Well, if you need advice, just text one of us. We’re all happy to help.

Nathan: Have more confidence, man. Plenty of women are into that absent minded professor thing. It’s right up there with men in uniform.

Jonathan: I just wish I could start over, you know?

Nathan: Like, be a virgin again? You couldn’t pay me enough money to do that. Actually, we have a listener question about how we would feel, being someone’s first time.

Jonathan: My first time was… not sexy. I didn’t know what I was doing at all. I hadn’t even really seen porn. She had to basically tell me what to do every step of the way, so I thought that’s what sex was for like, ten years.

Anselm: My first time was in an alpine meadow. The cows kept coming over to see what the fuss was about. Curious creatures. I think it gave me a fetish about milk for awhile.

Victor: I have that too.

Anselm: As for being someone’s first. I would be honored. There would be fanfare, perhaps a band and a party afterward.

Nathan: I don’t like to admit fear, but I think taking someone’s virginity is more terrifying than the singularity.

Santiago: I’ve been someone’s first. It’s really amazing, actually. I was nervous, don’t get me wrong, but I went slow and it was a really great weekend. I still meet up with her sometimes, if I’m going through that part of the world.

Marc: I was with a woman who didn’t tell me she was a virgin until we were in bed, getting undressed. It turned out okay, but I wish she’d told me before. I would’ve done something special.

Santiago: Like what?

Marc: I don’t know. Made dinner at home, lit some candles. Put a big, soft blanket on the bed. Maybe made sure the bathtub was ready for afterward. I tried to make up for it by eating her out before and after.

Santiago: I’m pretty sure she’s happier with the oral sex than a candle. What about you?

Blue: If it’s a girl’s first time, I try to make it good. It’s a thrill, I won’t lie. I give her something nice afterward. A new dress, or her own number at the club.

Poe: If you had to pick someone at this table to be your first, who would it be?

Blue: Laurent maybe? I like that dirty Frenchman thing he has going on.

Poe: Anselm?

Anselm: I would choose you, Poe, obviously.

Nathan: Why obviously?

Anselm: Jealousy does not become you, Nathan. Look at Poe. Dashing, gallant, and sexually, I can tell that he lives to serve.

Poe: … is that a compliment?

Steven: I’d pick you, Anselm. I like the adventure of it.

Nathan: *snort laughs* He’ll give you an adventure all right. He’ll adventure you right into dressing up in an insane outfit and letting him demolish you in some weird role play. Ask me how I know.

Steven: *genuinely asking* How do you know?

Nathan: That was sarcasm, dude. I know because I’ve been there.

Anselm: And a riot of a time it was. I’ve never enjoyed a traditional Midsommar celebration more!

Nathan: Look, we’re almost out of time and- hey- Atreides, quit checking your watch. I told you this would be a solid 60 minutes.

Leto: *sighing* It was a text, okay? It’s a… listener question.

Nathan: This isn’t live, so the only way you’re getting a question this second is if one of these chucklefucks is texting you right now, behind my back.

Leto: Yeah. Huh. I always forget you’re smarter than you look.

Nathan: Go hump a barbed wire fence.

Leto: Do you want to hear the question or not?

Nathan: Go ahead.

Leto: Death. The question is about death. This anonymous person posits that some of us receive an untimely death in our universes.

*awkward silence, throat clearing*

Leto: Nathan?

Nathan: I don’t know, dude. We all have complicated lives to begin with so why would our deaths be any easier?

Leto: But you know more than you’re saying.

Nathan: *angry* What do you want, Leto? You want me to say there’s some alternate dimension where you have a family that loves you and when you get murdered, they wage some kind of war across the universe?

Leto: No, that would be ridiculous.

Nathan: *raises his voice* Do you want to hear that a fucking meteorite crashes into Earth and kills Anselm?

Leto: Nathan, calm down.

Nathan: That Marc, Steven, and Jake never get an ending at all?

Leto: Nath-

Nathan: *sounding a little insane* Why can’t we just live in the here and now? Huh? Who the fuck asked about death? WHO?

*silence*

Leto: *quietly* What happens to you, Nathan?

Steven: Mate, ‘s alright. We’re all of us alive and well here. You can tell us.

Nathan: *quietly* None of you gets it. I don’t think most of us have death in common. Actually, we have something a lot worse that runs through every one of our lives. We all go straight into situations where we know we could die, where we probably will. That’s the thread that binds us. Not curly hair or this nose or our eyes. We’re all so fucked up.

Richard: I don’t do that. Really. I don’t put myself in danger.

Nathan: You work with death-row inmates.

Richard: Yeah, maybe you make a good point.

Basil: I didn't ask to get struck by lightning, but Nathan's right. I really lost it afterward.

Victor: If I may interject, I know a fair bit about death and life. It’s my entire existence actually. Fear of death is natural. I have found, however, that one is only truly afraid of death is one feels they haven’t done enough living.

Perhaps, like me, you feel you’ve contributed to humanity, but you, yourself, have nothing to actually show for it. With egos as big as ours, that’s a difficult conclusion to reach.

Nathan: I wasn’t trying to create life through artificial intelligence for humanity, Victor. It was just *sigh* … it felt-

Victor: Inevitable.

Nathan: Yeah.

Victor: The burden of intellect.

Cecil: Yeah.

Nathan: You feel the burden of intellect?

Cecil: … … … What are we talking about?

Marc: Hey, it’s not the burden of intellect or whatever. It’s that we’re all kind of control freaks who have zero control over our own lives.

Steven: He’s right. Feels to me I’m just a character in a story sometimes, being pulled this way and that. This job. That job. Living here. Living there. Trousers on. Trousers off.

William: You’re all correct, I think, but that doesn’t mean we stop trying.

Steven: Trying what?

William: To do what we can, however insignificant it feels to us.

Poe: Nothing, and no one, is insignificant. I believe that with my whole heart.

Jonathan: Nathan, the kind of questions you’re having, they’re a lot like the ones I debate in my work. They’re important, yes, but remember, you still have to eat meals. Go to the bathroom. Sleep. Life goes on. Time keeps moving.

Nathan: I get your point, but it doesn’t. Not when you’re all here. We’re kind of out of time and space.

Leto: So, when you told me this would only be an hour?

Nathan: It’s actually infinity. Or it’s nothing. There’s kind of no difference around this table. Besides, talking to you feels like torture for eternity, so what do you care?

Leto: *mumbles* I hate you in every universe.

Anselm: So, in a way, Nathan, you’re saving all of us, simply by having us as guests on your little pod-cast.

Nathan: It’s just one word. Podcast.

Anselm: Pod-cast

Nathan: Podcast

Anselm: Pahd-cahst

Nathan: Just say it quickly. Podcast.

Anselm: Oh what the devil do I care what it’s called? I simply enjoy being here. I’m grateful to have met all of you.

Leto: I have to admit, it’s very interesting.

Victor: Yes, I don’t feel quite so alone anymore.

Basil: Me either.

Anselm: Coincidentally, what does happen to you?

Nathan: I get stabbed at my house by an ai woman I made myself.

Anselm: *sound of gun cocking* That is unacceptable! Where is she?

Nathan: Put that away. You can’t fix it like that.

Anselm: I think you’ll find that I can.

Santiago: Here, let me.

*sound of gun being yanked away, magazine and bullet ejecting*

Santiago: Here’s question: if you could fix anything in your universe, what would it be? I’d have figured out a way to go back and get the millions of dollars I left in the Andes mountains.

Marc: I would’ve introduced myself to Steven and Jake a long time ago.

Steve: Cheers, Marc I would’ve done the same.

Leto: I would’ve spent more time with my father.

William: I never would’ve joined the fucking Army.

Richard: I would’ve asked that girl out in high school, the one I had a crush on for years.

Jonathan: I can’t even pick. Too much to choose from.

Victor: My friend, we’re drinking from the same teapot of shame.

Laurent: I should’ve finished art school.

Cecil: I wish I hadn’t told everybody that the Taco Bell near my house gave me explosive diarrhea because then people stopped going there and it closed. God. I really miss that Taco Bell.

Santiago: Why did you lie about something like that?

Cecil: It wasn’t a lie. I just wish I hadn’t said anything out loud. Then, I’d still be able to get a chalupa supreme in under five minutes.

Anselm: Well, I live my live with zero regrets. Geschehen ist geschehen. What’s happened is happened. Or, as I like to say, onto the next hole.

Nathan: That’s gross. I get what you’re saying, though. Time ever only moves in one direction. Although, technically, I could use the machine to go back in time, but-

Leto: What?

Nathan: I mean, I could probably-

Leto: Hey, could you bring me back to a very specific night about two years ago?

Nathan: Why?

Leto: There was this woman-

Nathan: I’m not interfering with the space time continuum just so you can get laid.

Jake: What about me? I got a look at Jonathan’s ex wife and I’d like to take her for a ride in my cab, so to speak.

Nathan: This isn’t a crossover event.

Poe: Can I use it to make a teeny-tiny little adjustment and never join a bunch of drug runners? I’d like to retcon that whole thing.

Nathan: There’s no way you were in a drug gang. That’s obviously a lie. You’re a goody two shoes.

Poe: *under his breath* I had a bad boy phase.

Nathan: Sure you did, Poe, and I’m a big, blue, omniscient alien who can control matter with my mind. Whatever.

I think we’ve stretched the limit of all of us being in one room. I have to start putting you back in your universes or shit might start to break permanently.

Doing this is the most fun I have, so, you know, thank you for sending in your questions.

I think I should get us all chalupas to celebrate.

Poe: What’s a chalupa?

Cecil: You’re gonna love it!

Anselm: I’m going to call you my little chalupa from now on.

Nathan: Until next time, I’m Nathan Bateman. Thank you for listening, thank you for subscribing, and please, if Anselm Vogelweide ever asks you to put on a white dress and a flower crown, and to treat his dick like a may pole, please keep in mind that the tea he gives you afterward is definitely hallucinogenic.

**Outro Music Fades Up**

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☾ ⋆*:⋆*･☾ ⋆*:⋆*･☾ ⋆*:⋆*･

The day after the fair, you let Poe sleep in while you did your morning chores and took care of the animals. You decided to clean up and do some bills and business inside the house. When you made your way back downstairs, Poe was cooking breakfast. Naturally, Cheddar was circling his legs lovingly. Or annoyingly, depending on one’s point of view.

Poe had made quite the mess already, but he looked up at you and grinned, so proud of himself.

“I’m making cakes. Um…pan-cakes? It’s under the breakfast tab of your favorite cookbook. I can't believe how much actual paper you have in these books. No holopads or anything but real paper. It's incredible. Are pancakes okay?”

Folding your arms over your chest, you couldn’t help but laugh. “There’s flour everywhere. It’s even in your hair." You nodded down at the apron he was wearing. “Guess your clothes will stay clean though.”

“Sorry,” he shrugged. “I tried. I think I burned a few so I opened the back door to air it out. That’s when Cheddar came in. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” you laughed, scooping up your little barn cat for a quick snuggle.

☾ ⋆*:⋆*･☾ ⋆*:⋆*･☾ ⋆*:⋆*･

After a long day of farm work and supper, you offered to cut Poe's hair.

"Okay, just lean back," you instructed, helping him ease his head back into the kitchen sink as he rested in a chair. You had draped a towel around his shoulders to protect his shirt.

He stared up at the ceiling as you began to spray water through his thick curls.

"Too hot? Too cold?"

"No, it's good." His eyes flickered over to yours, holding your gaze for a moment until you smiled sweetly and continued raking your fingers through his hair, getting it wet.

A low sound of approval rumbled in his chest without him realizing it.

"You okay?" You softly asked, hoping you hadn't pulled his hair too hard.

"Mmm...yeah. That feels good actually." You watched as his throat bobbed, his eyes drifting closed.

"The water?" You innocently questioned, squeezing out a glob of shampoo and working your fingers over his scalp.

"No. Your hands."

"Oh..." Grateful that his eyes were closed and not studying you, you went to work on massaging his scalp, gently raking your nails soothingly all over. "It's good for you to relax for once."

Then he did look at you with a smirk. "Don't start."

"I know, you like to stay busy, I know." Turning the water back on, you began rinsing out the shampoo. "It's just nice to see you taking it easy for a few minutes...letting me take care of you a little bit. You do so much."

His head turned in your grasp, causing your fingers to catch on a tangle. The slight tug made him groan, but he swallowed it down. "Are you serious? Take care of me a little bit?" He sighed, but there was no frustration in it. "Trix, you saved my life. You take care of me all the time, every day."

Your heart flamed in your chest, but you reminded yourself - it wasn't anything to indulge in. You had to let Poe focus on getting home. You couldn't have him for yourself. It was selfish. "You take care of me too, you know," you softly returned, finger-combing his wet hair before lifting the towel from his neck to towel dry it a bit.

He sat up straight in the chair which put him about level with your chest. His eyes traced the smooth column of your throat, noticing how your breaths grew more shallow as his breath brushed your collarbone.

"There," you whispered, kneeling down to his level, the gentle smile returning to your face. "All clean. How much do you want me to cut?"

He blinked at you, distracted, his eyes flickering momentarily down to your mouth. He dragged his gaze back to yours with effort. "Uhm, I don't know. Should you just cut it short, to make it easier?"

"Not too short," you tutted, reaching for a comb and standing back to your full height, if only to get away from his penetrating eyes for a second. "Not with curls like this."

He beamed at that, sitting up a little straighter. "You like curls?"

"I like these." You twirled your finger in the longest one before watching it spring back into place.

"You decide then."

So you did. You took your time, carefully thinning out and shortening Poe's wild mane, loving every second of it. He asked if you'd cut hair before. You admitted you'd only cut your father's hair for years, and your farm hand Chester's a few times. Neither one of them had thick curls.

Poe's eyes would drift closed whenever you would push his hair this way or that, finger comb it into position to trim the next piece. He looked so satisfied like this, reminding you of Cheddar rubbing against your leg.

Maybe he was missing touching someone. Someone back home.

"Who cuts your hair normally?" You asked, checking for extra tags and wrapping things up.

"We have machines that do it, but this is way better." He grinned at you.

"You're not used to someone playing with your hair?" You had meant to tease him, but it came out rather blunt and kind of nosy.

His eyebrows shifted curiously as he watched you bashfully avert your eyes.

"Uh, not in a while really. A long while."

You busied yourself, cleaning up the haircutting supplies, while Poe asked how he could help. He ended up sweeping up his hair off the floor and before long, the two of you sat down to watch TV on the couch.

☾ ⋆*:⋆*･☾ ⋆*:⋆*･☾ ⋆*:⋆*･

All of Poe's nonstop farm work must have finally caught up to him. Either that, or he was so soothed by his haircut, that he fell asleep on your shoulder halfway through the first television program.

You hated to disturb him, and honestly, you relished having him close, at least while he was unaware of it, so you stayed still until the next show came on.

Eventually, your fingers found his dried, fuzzy waves and gently began to twirl through them, faintly scratching at his scalp. He stirred for a moment, nuzzling into your neck before going still again.

This was such a bad idea on your part, but you couldn't help yourself. Making him feel good was like an addictive drug.

Before long, your head rested against his crown of soft brown hair and you found yourself sleeping right along with him.

☾ ⋆*:⋆*･☾ ⋆*:⋆*･☾ ⋆*:⋆*･

You didn't wake up until it was time for chores. Dawn peeked over the horizon as a rooster crowed. You found yourself lying on your couch downstairs, an old quilt made by your great-aunt tucked securely around your body.

Mortified at the thought of falling asleep with Poe and him putting you in this position, you practically leapt up, glancing around for him.

When you didn't see him, you darted upstairs, bypassing his bedroom to freshen up in the restroom and quickly change out of yesterday's clothes.

He wasn't in his room, and he wasn't attempting to make a mess of your kitchen, so he must be outside.

You found him brushing Annabelle, your gentler, blonder, slightly bigger horse. He was talking to her softly and she was eating it up. That sweet girl loved Poe from day one.

"Can't give you too many treats, can I, sweetheart?" You heard him murmur softly. "You're supposed to wait until I'm done brushing, aren't you?"

Then a beat.

"Don't look at me that way, girl. You're gonna get me in trouble with your mom. I'm almost done."

As tempting as it was to linger and listen to Poe flirting with your horse, you stepped into view, clearing your throat.

"See? Busted," Poe said to Annabelle, flashing you a grin. "She's trying to sweet talk me out of extra treats."

You folded your arms over your chest. "Mm-hmm, and how many did you already give her?"

His eyes shifted back and forth between you and the horse guiltily. "Two?"

You walked over and patted Annabelle's nose. "Good work, sweet girl. He's a pushover."

You picked up a second brush and walked past him, toward your chestnut Arzola.

"It's okay, I already brushed her," he informed, stopping you with a hand on your wrist.

Your mouth fell open. "You brushed Arzola. By yourself? She let you?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "Yeah. She loves me."

Reaching out to pet your feisty girl, you chuckled. "He got you too, huh? You girls are hopeless." You turned back to Poe. "Thank you for taking care of them. Did you get any sleep last night?"

Oh he did. One of the most peaceful nights he'd slept in ages. He woke up, half on top of you as you leaned heavily against the arm of the couch, his face pressed against the soft skin of your neck, arms wound around your torso. You were holding him too.

As much as it would have felt good to lay you all the way down and pull you closer, he didn't want to startle you. So he carefully untangled himself, checked the time, freshened up and began seeing to the morning chores as a thank you for his haircut.

"Yeah, I slept for a while. Thought I'd help you out this morning," he finally answered, licking his lips and shaking those thoughts out of his head.

You asked what he'd gotten to so far, and that's when he revealed he'd already taken care of everything except breakfast. You reminded him he didn't have to do all that, especially not as a thank you, but he just smiled and said he loved it.

"You wanna go for a ride, don't you?"

He nodded. "I was hoping you would say that."

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After racing across your fields in the early morning sun, you and Poe decided to make breakfast. It felt good to have a morning where your chores were already done. And sharing a good meal with a handsome man didn't hurt much either.

"I should probably confess something," he said cryptically, swirling his last bite of pancake through syrup. "I haven't actually slept too much lately. That's why I fell asleep on you so early last night. Sorry about that."

You eyed him curiously. "It's okay. Why aren't you sleeping?"

He swallowed down his last bite, considering his words. "Sometimes, I'm out there with my ship, in your old empty building where we stashed it. I've been fixing my droid."

You nodded as he continued.

"I've been working on my ship a little bit too. I need some bigger equipment. Tools and things." He eyed you carefully. "I was wondering if you could help me get some things. Maybe...maybe if someone thought they were for the farm, they wouldn't notice you needing them. I don't want to get you in any trouble."

"I know that," you softly returned.

"Once my droid is up and running, she can help me work on the ship, or at least restore communication."

You swallowed a heavy lump in your throat. "That's good, Poe. It's a good idea. I'm sure I can help you out with the equipment you need. The best Iowa has, anyway."

"Thank you." He reached for your hand and gently squeezed. "I wanted to tell you before there's a droid whizzing around here. Didn't want her to scare you."

You held onto his hand longer than you intended, toying with his fingers tenderly. "Does your droid...talk?"

Poe smiled, his eyes flickering down to your joined hands and then back up to your gaze. "She speaks binary. It's...like a machine language. Sort of. I understand her, but I don't think you will. Unless you speak binary?"

"No," you laughed.

"She'll understand you though, mostly," he went on. "She can probably help around here too." Then he wistfully sighed. "I just hope she can help me figure out how I got here."

Your thumb rubbed the back of his hand soothingly. "I hope that too, Poe, I really do. And I want to help you, if I can. If there's anything I can do."

He wanted to ask for your help. He wanted to sleep as soundly and safely as he'd slept last night, against your body. One of the main reasons he worked on his ship at night was because of the dreams. Vivid, haunting dreams of his friends screaming, dying, in the vastness of space, or their minds pulled apart the way his mind had been violated by the dark side of the Force.

He wondered if you had a tonic to help him sleep more deeply. At least that's what he wondered until you drove his nightmares away last night with your mere presence. It's why he awoke so invigorated and decided to complete the day's chores for you.

If only he could sleep that soundly again, feeling that safe. If only he didn't have to see his friends in torment when he closed his eyes, feeling like he'd abandoned them.

If only he could have met you in his galaxy. But as surely as he felt he must return to his own life, to the war, he was grateful you were not a part of it. Earth seemed, at least for now, the safer option for you.

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