#nonbinary partner

Running down your driveway towards your beloved partner Mihaly, who just arrived; You throw your arms around them. They immediately fit their small frame into yours. You squeeze them tight, burying your face in their heavy weight patchwork pullover. You smile into their shoulder at the familiar scent of straight up hippie stank 😵‍💫

Mihaly's giant sweater swallows you as they pull you deeper into their embrace. Their hand planted firmly on the back of your head, pressing you into their slim toned figure. Their lips rest gently on the crown of your head. You can feel them humming gently. The scent of musky incense, weed, and oasis old spice deodorant. Other people would crinkle their nose and scold Mihaly for the stench of white sage, and pronouns. However, you welcome their unique smell... taking a deep inhale.

"I think you smell the freshly rolled joints in my pocket." They remark, their tone was coy and impish. You crack a bashful smile. What were you? A dog that smelled treats??? Mihaly twists to reach in their pocket. You weren't ready to let go.

"Oh Mihaly..." you whine in a calm vulnerable voice. Wanting to focus on their touch. They gave you love, without it feeling like you were needy...

"Mmm. Babe..." they coo at you gently; immediately pulling you back in and stroking your hair. Their face nuzzles into your hair, and their clunky round glasses bump into your head softly. Your face heats up at how hot they looked with those silly glasses. The way they'd awkwardly push them up the bridge of their nose, or wipe them off. Flustered, shy, clumsy.

"Thought we could go down to the river and smoke a fatty?" They offer shyly, their hand sliding down to the small of your back. They use their hand to guide you down the driveway, towards the walking path behind your house. Mihaly's favorite spot.

"Shall we?" They plant a gentle kiss behind your ear. You nod silently, taking hold of their hand. Mihaly shoves your hand and theirs into the pocket of their sweater to keep warm. Every few steps, kissing your cheek gently, muttering sweet nothings. "I'm gonna kiss you so hard once we get to our spot by the river. Prepare yourself, love. Because I've been craving you..." their voice is steady and calm but their words were possessive and hungry.

"M-mihaly- yes. Oh please yes." Your voice comes out weak and soft. Their grip tightens on your hand as you approach the rock that the two of you enjoy sitting on. They pull you down to sit with them on the rock. Making themself comfortable. Snuggly close to you. They firmly rest both of their hands on your thighs, sliding them up your sides and cupping your face. They gased at you through their cloudy blue lenses. Yet their striking dark eyes shone brightly. Low lidded eyes, staring longingly at you through a thick curtain of lashes. Their breathing had quickened, and you could feel thick clouds of lust surrounding you two. Your fingers slide down their chest.

"You're so... flat..." you muse at your nonbinary shamen. They shudder and tip their head back at the gender affirming compliment, giving you access to kiss their tender neck. You peck at their exposed skin softly. "Mmm I bet you look so amazing in that binder; Mi..." you swoon. The memory of their toned stomach, and boy shorts make you weak in the knees. Thank goodness you were sitting, because the image of their navel piercing and ocean wave hip tattoos would've made you crumble.

"There's nothing strong enough in the entire universe to hold me back from what I want to do to you..." Mihaly's voice becomes seductive and controlling.

You flick your tongue along their jaw before pulling back to observe their reaction. A gasp escapes their plump shiny pink lips, which are latched onto yours before you can add a flirty comment. They steal the air from your lungs with an aggressive needy kiss. Your fingers tangled in their hair. Fistfuls of Mihaly's fuchsia locks fill your palms. They growl and huff into your mouth. Your lips find a rhythm pulling in deep and breaking away softly. But only for a short breath, and right back into action. This time, Mihaly's tongue wanders from their mouth to yours. Their taste floods your mouth, making your body quiver in their arms. Their tongue plunges into your throat, and brushes against your tongue, hoping you'll join them. You shyly flick your tongue around theirs. They tense up, fingers digging into your hips, tongue thrashing to and fro.

The kiss slows down, and you gradually pull apart clumsy, forgetting who's tongue is who's. They grind their teeth onto your bottom lip, and swipe their tongue across it a few times before finally letting go. Mihaly's lips were wet and swollen from the kisses. Their mouth hung open, their breath labored.

"Wanna smoke now?" They ask; still winded and flushed. You nod. Still unable to speak. Catching their breath, they light your blunt for you, and put it between those lips of yours that they loved so much. You quietly rest your head on their shoulder, drawing a disgustingly large rip from the joint. Mihaly joins you, smoke filling the chilly evening air.

Bruno is immediately on his guard when he comes through the front door and he hears your soft weeping. He doesn’t even bother to hang up his coat before he strides into the kitchen. There, he finds you: his darling, his treasure, the love of his life, with your head in your hands, crying. He’s immediately at your side, his gentle hands holding your shoulders. “Caro,” he speaks to you softly, grabbing your attention. “What’s going on? Are you okay?” His brows knit together in concern, and he looks to you for an explanation. 

You try to speak, but your voice catches on your words, your throat closing up. He soothing rubs your back. “Let yourself breathe... In through your nose, out through your mouth,” he instructs. You follow his suggestion, deliberately breathing, and find that it works. You begin to calm down enough to tell him about your situation. He pulls up one of the chairs from the table and puts it next to you. Bruno puts an arm around you, ready to listen to you. 

The more you talk about what is happening to you, the stonier his eyes become. He is pained to hear about the person that keeps harassing you and making you feel uncomfortable. “Bambino... Why did you wait so long to tell me? You know that if I were aware, I would put an end to them disrespecting you like that.” You knew what he meant by that, and you shook your head. 

“I didn’t want to make you worry... I didn’t want to make this your problem--”

“Darling.” He carefully takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tipping your tear-streaked face to look at his. He can’t stand your puffy red eyes or the worried line that forms between your brows when you’re stressed. The pain on your face when you talk about your gender--something you should be proud of--hurts him. “Your happiness matters to me. So, yes, this is my problem. If you’d allow me to, I want to say something to the person that’s been making you feel like this,” he professes, his voice with more of an edge that you’re used to. You are a little scared of what he would do or say to them, but you trust him. 

You meet his eyes and you see the conviction in them. Slowly, you nod. “Please... help me confront them. I can’t deal with this anymore,” you choke out, another stream of tears falling down your cheeks. Bruno grabs a napkin nearby and gingerly dries your tears, looking at you with a worried but adoring expression the entire time.