my pussy in bio

The news keeps playing as Roier leaves his apartment and locks the door behind him. He tunes it out for the most part; it’s just there to keep him from thinking too much, because Natalan says that he’s annoying when he thinks too much, and Roier doesn’t want to be annoying. He wants to be married, and he won’t get that by pissing his husband off. 

“-Brown hair, blue eyes, and a muscular build-”

Roier stops at a crosswalk with a group of other people, waiting for the light to turn. It’s a bit of a walk to his bus stop, but he doesn’t usually mind it. It’s good to stay active; it’ll come in handy when Sally tries making a run for it the next time they go to the park. 

Natalan doesn’t have a job, the lazy piece of shit, so it’s up to Roier to make enough money to keep the family afloat. And it sucks, okay? Because Roier hates working. He’d much rather stay at home and take care of the kids and cook dinner for Natalan and shove it down his throat when he refuses to eat it because, oh, apparently Roier can’t cook! Apparently, Roier is useless! 

Yeah, well, maybe Natalan is the useless one. He might be handsome and strong and sexy and intelligent and… stuff… but he could at least clean the apartment every once in a while. Roier is starting to get just a little sick of coming home from work to a dirty apartment; it’s no condition to raise a child in!

The light turns, and Roier and the others cross the street. He keeps to the back of the pack and takes out his phone to switch from the news to Spotify (Natalan’s account, of course!)

He keeps his head down as he walks, mostly because he can’t stand the sight of anybody in this goddamn city. They’re all ugly. They stare at him and judge him for being a single mother and a recovering addict and they’re all assholes and Roier would just love to introduce them all to his beautiful bastard of a husband. 

Roier passes an alley. He doesn’t look up from his phone as he tries to pick out a song to listen to. He hates every song on every playlist Natalan has, but he can’t exactly change any of them, can he? He can’t risk Natalan getting angry and trying to leave again. 

He doesn’t hear the voice calling out to him. Not above the rush of the city and the beating of his own heart and the screams echoing memories in his mind. 

But he does notice the hand grabbing him around the upper arm and yanking him into the alley. 

More importantly, he notices a pair of stunning blue eyes, and his heart stops in his chest, and he smiles.

“Hello,” Roier breathes. He pulls his headphones down and rests them around his neck. “You look lost.”

The man in front of him is tall, okay, but he’s also gorgeous. Glittering eyes, scars across his face, fluffy-looking hair. He smells of rust and gore, but Roier doesn’t mind. Nobody’s perfect. 

He’s staring at Roier, wide-eyed and curious, and Roier can imagine he feels much the same as Roier does at the moment. In one word, entranced. In two, in love.

Roier clears his throat, very conscious of the hand still wrapped around his bicep. But the man’s grip only tightens, quickly growing tight enough to pinch like the blood pressure cuff at the doctor’s office. 

Oh, Roier thinks, he’s strong.

“Do you have a car?” the man asks. His Spanish is accented, but his voice is just ouagh. Deep and raspy and commanding enough for a pit to grow in Roier’s stomach. 

Roier shakes his head. “I’m not allowed to drive. Too many accidents.”

Somehow, the grip on his arm grows even tighter- oh, God, does it make his knees go weak. 

“But do you have a car?” the man growls, leaning in real close. His teeth bare into something approximating a smile, or maybe a sneer; oh, they’re pointy, that’s fascinating. 

Roier hesitates before answering, “It’s my friend’s, but I’m sure he won’t mind if I borrow it.”

Natalan won’t mind, that’s for sure. He doesn’t use it anymore, anyway, the lazy piece of shit. All he ever does is lay on the couch and insult Roier and their children, and so, really, it’s only fair that Roier borrows his car. 

It’s not like Natalan is using it at the moment, anyway. 

The man nods- a simple quick jerk of the head- and drops Roier’s arm just like that. 

(Just. Like. That.)

Roier’s arm burns from the sudden cold, but he manages a fresh smile, anyway. He’s prettier when he smiles, he thinks. 

“Come on, I live back that way,” he says, pointing to the side with his thumb towards his apartment building. “I mean, I have work in a couple minutes, but they won’t mind me being late.”

“Nah, you won’t be late,” the man assures him. “I’ll be quick.”

Roier wants him to grab his arm again. Roier wants him to touch him again. 

“Okay,” Roier agrees. 

He’s sure that Sally won’t mind another road trip.

-

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