Next To You Chapter 14 — Epiphany

A/N: Happy 2020, everyone! Here's to hoping this year is less terrible than the last!

"I was lost in the quicksand

I was torched in the fire

You've got me on another planet

You're the best."

— Darling by Chiild

I'd thought Troy would fight me teeth and nails (pun intended) on this, but, surprisingly, he willingly allowed to me pamper him for once. Once we had cleaned up our mess downstairs and stowed away our toy Nerf guns, we took turns at the bathroom sink to wash our faces. He'd innocently flicked water my way, but I wasn't tempted to wage a war with him yet. His playful demeanor was contagious; I knew, deep down, he vied for my attention and he probably still felt guilty from our date last night. Tossing him a clean towel from the rack, I knocked some sense into him.

"Babe?"

Troy patted his face dry. His voice was muffled beneath the cotton and he stepped aside. "Yeah?"

I turned the faucet to a lukewarm temperature and splashed my face a few times. 'You do realize last night turned out great, right?'

Then, I felt his angst wrestle with nerves. "I know," he deflected and nudged the bottle of cleanser closer to me. He folded the face towel and set it on the counter. "But what are you trying to say?"

Squeezing a dime-sized amount of cleanser on my fingertips, I patted and gently rubbed in circular motions across my face. 'I'm saying that you don't have to take me out on expensive dates to please me. I'm totally fine with whatever we do, even if we walk in the park or stay inside, drink tea, read books or something.' Turning the tap again, I rinsed thoroughly and then blindly reached for the towel. Water droplets dripped into my eyes, so I wasn't able to see at the moment. Troy placed the cloth in my awaiting hands. While I dried my face, I heard him sigh.

"Well, I want to spoil you, because you deserve the world and so much more." He mused, shuffling up behind me to rest his hands on my hips. Turning around in his arms, I leaned up on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"I swear, you can charm the pants off anyone." I laughed, walking out of his embrace to the bed. On the bedspread, an array of ten packaged facial masks laid neatly in a row. Recalling Troy wanted the bamboo one, I settled for acai berry this time.

"Is it working?" Troy followed me and sat beside the masks.

I smiled ruefully and clicked my tongue. "Not now." I chided, stretching a spare plush headband and slipping it over his head. I'd insisted he borrow one of my headbands to push his hair out of his face. Instead, he demanded to put ungodly amounts of hair gel to slick his hair back in a sticky mold.

"It's a compromise." He tried, but I didn't budge on the matter.

"It's not," I'd countered. Once the band was in place, I loosely tied my hair up in a bun and secured a different headband to control the stray flyaways. It wasn't often Troy's forehead was exposed, but it was still a nice sight. That being said, with this strange style, his hair stuck out in odd angles. He resembled a rebellious child with a bad case of bedhead. All he needed to do was…

I leapt for my phone on the nightstand. "Wait, cross your arms. Strike a pose!" Prancing back in front of him, I held the phone up to take a picture.

Troy didn't disappoint. In a flash, he widened his stance and folded his arms across his chest, looking intimidating and closed his eyelids halfway. I snapped a photo and looked it over.

"Ooh, very sexy." I appraised and tried to hold in my sniggering.

He dropped his arms to his sides and darted to look over my shoulders at my phone. "Hey, delete that! The angle is very unflattering."

"Nuh-uh!" I stuck out my tongue, dancing away with my phone clutched to my chest. "I really like it." Quickly, I exited the gallery app and put my phone on sleep mode. Since I locked it with a passcode, Troy wouldn't be able to unlock it. My boyfriend scrubbed a hand over his face in exasperation. "Fine, but don't let the others see it." He ordered.

I giggled and returned my phone back on the nightstand beside the container of nail polishes.

He sulked and trapped me in the cage of his arms and draped himself over my back, but he didn't put his weight on me. He just wanted me to acknowledge his presence. "Please." He elongated the word in desperation. From his tone, I heard the smile in his voice. "Let me take a picture of you, too."

Oh. That's what he was whining about. Shrugging, I smiled ruefully. "Sure, it's only fair."

Troy whipped out his cell from his jeans pocket he'd stashed on the bedroom floor earlier. My eyes darted around the room, feeling more than physically exposed at my reminded state of undress. Signalling him to wait with my raised palm, I tottered to the walk-in closet and grabbed one of Troy's oversized shirts from the hanger. Pulling it on, the hem reached my mid-thighs, and the edge of his boxers peeked underneath. I stretched the front outward to inspect the graphic design on the tee.

"I never knew you were into AC/DC." I said fondly, smoothing the creases of the fabric.

Troy froze, eyes glazed over and expression dazed. Judging by the fond sparkle in his eyes, he openly admired my new look, with his phone still poised up.

I continued to fiddle with the shirt and glanced down at myself. "Stop staring."

"I'm gazing."

"It's creepy." I shot back, a grin tugged my lips.

He caught me off guard. "You look so good in my clothes." He murmured instead. "Better than I do, in fact."

Flustered by his statement, my head snapped up, and it was at that moment Troy took his cue to quickly snap a pic. I stumbled over to view the photo and inwardly cringed. My face appeared the epitome of subtle surprise; eyes wide and curious, and a shy smile graced my mouth. His shirt clung to the outward curve of my belly, and the angle of my body emphasized the obvious signs of my pregnancy. The affectionate phrase of words he sent stopped me from immediately blurting he should delete the picture.

'But I look unflattering in this.' I said, full of self-loathing.

Troy shook his head. 'Stop putting yourself down.' Annoyance flashed in his eyes at his answer and then settled back to his usual heart-eyes. 'Why can't you see yourself the way I see you?' Tugging me towards him, he lightly rested his chin on my left shoulder. His lukewarm breath tickled my throat. 'I'm worried about you. What do I have to do in order to help you love yourself?'

I sighed resignedly and poked at the phone screen in front of us. This was an ongoing battle neither of us would win today. "I just…"

"Hmm?" He prodded, brushing his lips to the crown of my head, and inhaled my scent.

"I feel like I have changed so much." I finally said, turning around in his arms. Troy's hands rested on my hips, grounding me. "I'm gaining weight and I'm starting to show, I have stretchmarks… what if you become disgusted by me?"

Troy resisted the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes. "Baby doll, don't take this the wrong way, but, what if you talked to Melinda about all this? She's not a licensed therapist, but she's struggled like you, and her pregnancy wasn't a cake walk either."

I narrowed my eyes in a threatening manner, but he was unphased.

"I've attended classes, read hundreds of books on practically every subject about human psychology and anatomy, but none of the knowledge I gained prepared me for any of this." Troy lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. "I think there's an increased risk of you developing Postpartum Depression, and it's not just stemmed from the trauma you experienced, nor from your low self-esteem. It's deeper than that." Hugging me in a tight embrace, I felt his tears soak in the shirt I wore. "I need you to promise me you'll do whatever it takes to keep fighting." He sobbed and sniffled noisily. "Use me, if you have to, to love yourself." As I let him in to shoulder my pain, my self-doubt, and my worries and fears about the future, I conceded with a sob of my own to carry his. "You're perfect to me, and you're worthy of love."

It wasn't even a choice for me; it was almost too easy to submit to him. I needed Troy in my life, just as much as he needed me. We were Bonded for eternity, and if that meant I had to make difficult decisions and sacrifice myself in the long run, I'd do it all without a second thought. It may take months or even years to accept myself for who I am and who I'd become, but I'd rather walk this long journey in discovering myself with him than alone. Perhaps it was a matter of perspective; once I've lived near a century, I'd gain wisdom and strength from harrowing experiences through trials and moments with loved ones. Or, maybe it was simply the choice to live in love, to choose to live each day and become a better version of myself. My persona; who really was I? How would I find my place in this world?

It was then I decided I'd fight harder, if not only for Troy's sake, but ultimately for my own. He inspired me. My muse. A poignant reason to wake up every morning. Surely through all this time together Troy proved he'd never leave me… so why did I still have my doubts? Packing these negative thoughts and filing them away to mull over later, I blinked back more tears and Troy released me.

"Are you feeling better now?" Even though his face was splotchy and had puffy eyes, he still looked so beautiful. That didn't mean I liked to see him cry, though. I reached up and cupped both sides of his face. Troy leaned into my touch like the secret affectionate cat he was.

Not trusting my voice yet, I nodded and took a few calming deep breaths. 'I hope you know what you're in for.'

His quizzical stare bore into mine, giving me the courage to say my thoughts aloud. "It's going to probably take me months or years to be confident with myself and who I am. Just, please," I clarified, clutching onto his shoulders. "Don't doubt me. I promise to never doubt you. I'll support you through whatever life throws at us."

We clung to each other again, seeking the reassurance neither of us would go anywhere. Feeling the tension leave my body, he breathed a sigh of relief. Troy knew I had abandonment issues, and he had similar emotional traumas to work through. We knew one another inside and out, personality quirks, flaws and all. Our insecurities were just another hurdle to tackle together.

Then, a different thought struck me. Troy noticed the sudden uplifted change in my mood and ran one hand along my spine. "What's so funny?"

I elaborated with a chuckle. "I've always wondered: have you gone through your mid-life crisis yet?"

He scoffed. "Wha— no."

I continued to lightly tease him. "You're ninety years old. You've never wanted a boat or, say, a bigger house? Golf? Take an extravagant cruise to the Caribbean?"

He huffed a laugh. "No, no, and also no." He said, counting on his fingers as a makeshift list. "I'm still nineteen." He pointed out petulantly. "Technically, yes, I'm as old as anyone's grandpa, but, as we used to say back then, I'm as fit as a fiddle." Proudly puffing his chest out at this obvious announcement, I wanted to bury my face in my hands at the pun. Undaunted by my unblinking gaze, he continued. "Anyway, I'll show you sometime what happens when you use too much force in sports. My whole life I've dreamed of playing basketball, but since I've been turned, our strength turns out to be not so great in that regard." His face screwed up in disappointment, and I ran my left hand over the prominent veins in his forearm to distract him a bit. I imagined different scenarios play in my head, all resulting with various sports equipment from tennis rackets to baseball gloves being thoroughly ruined, and an resigned Troy standing amongst the carnage in his wake.

"A certain someone said you know how to skateboard." Troy's eyes lit up and his cheerful attitude returned. "Maybe you can show me a few tricks?"

"Oh yeah, I'm definitely teaching you how to do a twisted kick-flip." His sunny smile was bright enough to banish the shadows of sorrow we had earlier. Feeling significantly content for the time being, I wiped the drying tears from his undereyes and took his right hand in both of mine. "I look forward to being your willing student, but let's do that after the twins arrive." I reminded him, tugging him back to bed. "Lay down on your back." I said firmly, and Troy complied, remaining still as stone with his arms glued to his sides. He stared blankly at the ceiling. I giggled, tearing open the package of his mask and slowly unfolded it.

"Hey, relax." I whispered, knowing he could hear me clear as day. He turned to look at me, the motion looked so mechanic and jarring. Like a haunted doll come to life. It creeped me out. "Why do you look so dead inside?" I blurted, chuckling at my choice of words. "Stop! This is supposed to be relaxing and you're ruining it!" Quickly, so I didn't have to feel him watch my every move, I smoothed the mask over his face, fixing the creases in the material so they'd be flatter. Troy showed his maturity and stuck his tongue out at me, all creepy pretenses gone. Ripping apart my own package, I placed my mask on and then lied down beside him, folding my hands across my stomach. The scents of bamboo and acai berry filtered through our nostrils, and the slight tingling from the masks soothed our skin.

"This is fun." Troy mumbled, breathing deeply.

"You're falling asleep?" I asked, reaching over to slip my hand in his. His answering squeeze comforted me.

"Kinda." His voice thick with sleep flipped a switch inside me, flooding my body with warmth all over and an exhilarating chill down my spine. He knew the effects his 'morning voice' had on me. I resisted the urge to pounce and ravish him until we were both satiated. This was supposed to relieve stress in a less-fun way. I mulled over these dilemmas until I couldn't take the silence between us anymore. Granted, I probably did wake up Troy from his nap.

"Hey," I kept my voice quiet. "After this is all done, do you want to make out?"

Troy giggled and shifted closer to kiss the expanse of my neck in response. In the process, his mask slipped off and plopped on my exposed skin. I screeched and shoved him off me. "Ugh, Troy, I didn't mean right this second!" I moaned in fake disgust, peeling the dripping mask and discarding it properly in the waste bin. Well, that lasted all but three minutes. He smiled cheekily and had pink dusting his cheeks in a pretty blush.

"Oops."

I laughed along and lied back down to finish the allotted time in peace with my mask still in place. Out of the corners of my eyes, I saw him move towards me again. I held up a finger and told him to wait. "Don't you dare." I warned halfheartedly. Troy continued to smile at me innocently and then preoccupied himself with going through the polishes on the nightstand. Thankfully, he didn't interrupt my little 'spa' session, and once the rest of the fifteen minutes passed, I threw away the mask and patted in the remaining essence.

After I sat beside him, Troy presented the colors he liked the most out of the collection. Five bottles of different colors: glimmering gold, indigo blue, ruby red, black, and mocha brown. I glanced from him to the bottles of polish, then back to him. "These are great choices, Troy, but I don't know if I can put all of them on you today." I paused, seeing his face fall at my words. I backtracked, not wanting him to be upset with himself. "Of course, I don't understand the color scheme behind these. Penny for your thoughts?"

He slowly looked up at me, adoration clear in his eyes. "They remind me of you."

"O-oh." I stuttered, still perplexed, but flattered regardless. "Thank you…?"

A blush tinged his face like scattered rose petals. It was really lovely against his complexion. "I chose gold because of your worth, though you're worth so much more than that; blue's your favorite color and mine's red, black reminds me of the moonlight in your hair, and brown because of your eyes." He shrugged his shoulders.

I playfully nudged his ribs to show I wasn't upset with him. "And here I thought you chose gold to keep the theme of East High's colors." I teased, blinking back tears from the sentiment.

Troy chuckled and then cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. "I regret removing you from school. I know you didn't have a lot of friends, but it must be hard not seeing them every day."

This time, I shrugged my shoulders. "I can always talk to Kelsi over the phone, you know, to still keep in contact with her. It wouldn't be right to drag her in this drama now, though, with me being pregnant and you vampires and all. Taylor McKessie felt more like an acquaintance than a true friend. She reminded me a lot of my mom." The look on Troy's face darkened at that, and I squeezed his hand. "Not in that way." I corrected sadly. "Since that house party…" I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat. "...she… I guess she saw me as competition." I said, thinking about it before continuing. "I didn't have to try hard to get straight A's, I was quicker solving equations, all the things she had to work to get the same results as me. If I joined the Scholastic Decathlon, I think she'd resent me in the end."

While I got all this off my chest, Troy listened and resumed holding me. "Her lifelong dream was to get a scholarship to Yale and then become the next President of the United States." I laughed quietly, shaking my head ruefully.

"That's ambitious," Troy commented mildly.

"Yeah, well…" My voice trailed off and I leaned my head in the crook of his neck. "I'm not worried about her anymore. Chad, though…" The tears came without warning, and Troy cradled me through my breakdown. "He didn't have to sacrifice himself to save me!"

Troy gently shushed me and swayed me in his arms. He knew it was only a matter of time before my bottled up emotions burst forth. "Since I was only at school for a few months, I didn't know him well, but he died a noble death. He did what he thought he had to for you, as his friend, to live." As he rocked me from side to side, he exhaled shakily. "All this time, he knew there was something different about me. During our last encounter with each other, at the bunker —" I flinched from the reminder. "Within the span of seconds, he showed me all his memories of you." At my apparent surprise, he confirmed my suspicions. We hadn't mentioned anything regarding the bunker until now. Since we returned home, we'd skirted around the issue and changed the topic for risk of triggering me. "Although he wasn't public about it, he defended you from your peers, followed you from afar in the halls to make sure you got to your classes safe. If he saw anyone bother you, he took that person aside afterwards and told them to let you be. Chad even noticed the tension between you and Riley, so when he asked around for information, he obviously didn't like to hear to stay out of other people's business."

I choked on my tears and nodded. "Chad approached me one day after it happened, right before school was let out for the summer." I explained. "When I told him everything, he was the first person to believe me." I wiped the back of my hand across my cheeks, but the tears wouldn't stop. "He offered to somehow transfigure Riley into a basketball and slam dunk him through the net, but I didn't want him suspended." Laughing at the memory, I found strength and comfort from my boyfriend's constant support. "I never knew about Chad working in the background, though. That was so kind of him."

Troy nodded swiftly and pulled me on his lap. It was truly beneficial for both of us to relieve each other's burdens from this necessary conversation. "I believe he saw you as the sister he never wanted." He quoted with a laugh. I laughed along with him, enjoying the emotional closeness we achieved with the topic.

Then, I asked with a sense of dread, "What were his last words?"

As he remembered the fated event, Troy licked his lips and he said wearily. "Well, first, he called me something I've never been called in my entire life."

I prompted him with another well-aimed elbow nudge to his side.

"He called me, 'Hoops.'" The evident confusion on his face caused me to laugh harder.

I attempted to give him an explanation. "This is only what I heard, but apparently, Chad had a knack of 'knowing' when someone's especially talented at sports. Just by watching the other person move and then he made his judgement call! He'd recruit fellow classmates to try out for the team. Most of the time, he was right in his assumption. Basketball was basically twenty-four-seven for him, so he probably saw potential in you."

Troy followed my direction of thoughts and chipped in with his own opinion. "He said he was sorry he couldn't do more for you, and wanted you to finally be happy."

Trying to wrap my head around Chad's impactful speech, I sniffed. Looking up at the ceiling, I needed to thank him, somehow. "I am happy, Chad." I smiled in spite of the sobs wracking my shoulders. "I hope you're at peace now." I whispered towards the end, at last giving in and letting Troy's love wrap me like a cozy blanket. We held each other for what felt like hours, swaying in one another's arms. Sniffling again, I swung my leg off his lap and reached for the container of polishes and set them by me on the bedspread.

"Did Emily ever say how Riley's men got past her and Melinda?" I asked, using the back of my hands to wipe the tears from my face once more.

Troy took a deep breath to recenter himself. "She mentioned those who accompanied Chad managed to catch Melinda unawares and one had her in a chokehold." I clamped a hand over my mouth to muffle my scream of horror. "Then, the other two zipped around the store dispatching any possible witnesses." Due to his past, Troy's eyes became glassy with the haunted reminder of the damage those boys left. I was suddenly grateful I didn't see what had happened, and assumed Emily showed him everything afterwards. I shook my head to rid myself of the selfish thoughts. Innocent people died because of me! "When both men threw Melinda into an aisle wall, Emily took them down." He said, sounding very proud of his sister's act of revenge.

"Did she kill them?" The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop myself. I tore my gaze away from him to the polishes and fiddled with a couple bottles to keep my hands busy.

Troy sighed and replied, "Yes, but the third snuck off to Chad's location in the fitting rooms." Out of the corners of my eyes, I caught Troy tilt his head to the side. It was a familiar sign he was either frustrated or terribly confused. I was about to ask him to elaborate, but then he resumed his rant. "When you fought Chad, he didn't burst through the door to see you undressed, right?"

I snorted without humor. "Troy, remember he was the first person to believe I was raped?"

He opened his mouth to say something, but then thought better and shut it. He nodded mutely, blushing and eyes downcast.

"I was fully clothed." I said brusquely. "I mean, yeah, after a few tumbles, he recognized me and immediately apologized. Said he was too caught up in the mission and just went in guns blazing. He was compelled, Troy." My tone was harsher than I intended, and my mate flinched.

"I'm sorry." He said, showing me both palms as a way to appease me. "I didn't want to label him as a pervert, even after all he did for you."

I bit my tongue as I wanted to lash out at him accusing my friend of being a peeping tom. "Chad would never do that." I replied fiercely. "Besides, I stalled for as long as I could."

"I know." Troy agreed with an air of admiration. Lifting one arm, he rested it along my shoulders. "I'm so proud of you for fighting back. My brave kitten." With the speed of a cobra ready to strike, he leaned in to press his tongue flat against the base of my neck and licked a long stripe up to my jawline. But, given my enhanced abilities, it seemed like he went deliberately slow, and I felt the bumpy texture of his tongue. I shrieked and squirmed away from him, clapping my hands over the skin slick with his saliva.

"Eww, Troy!" I threw him a look of revulsion and frantically wiped the moisture with the sleeves of his shirt. "You really are a wildcat!"

It was unlike him to be so affectionate, but I didn't mind as long as he kept his tongue in his mouth from now on.

Chastised, Troy avoided my gaze. "Sorry." He nervously wrung his hands together. "I don't know what overcame me. It felt like the right thing to do."

"Well, it sure felt weird to me!" I blurted and then giggled almost anxiously. Then, I sobered, deciding to look at his actions in a different angle. "Do vampires lick?"

His eyes widened, and then his brows furrowed down. "I don't know," he said, clearly becoming more agitated and guilty by the note of frustration in his tone. "I wanted to comfort you somehow. But I acted impulsively, and you didn't like it, so I'll try to be better and control myself."

I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. His statement alerted me he referred to our first argument as a couple a while ago. I rested my head in the crook of his neck and nuzzled my face in his chest. "I thought we were past this, Troy." I mumbled quietly.

"Past what?"

"Our first fight?" I reminded him, and his breath hitched in his throat. Ah, so he still beat himself up over the thought of triggering me again. I needed to put a stop to his unnecessary guilt by pulling his face down to kiss him firmly. At first, Troy yielded, but then melted seconds later. "I forgave you, so please forgive yourself." I spoke against his lips. "If you don't hear the safeword next time, my knee will let your groin know." Capturing his mouth again, I added lightly, "I promise."

Instinctively, he shielded himself through his boxers at my threat, and I let out a musical laugh and threw myself on his lap.

"Duly noted." Troy said gravely, but couldn't resist a chuckle to slip into his voice.

Once more, I gestured to the box of nail varnishes. Troy groaned but outstretched his hands anyway.

Not minutes later into the manicure, he snatched his hand away as if I branded him with a hot iron. "Hey, hey, you promised you wouldn't put pink polish on me!"

I slammed a hand over my mouth to stifle my hysterical giggles bubbling to the surface. "I won't. This is mine." I capped the sheer polish and set it aside for now. Warily, Troy extended his wrist again, and I continued to carefully paint each alternating nail a coat of the bold red and shimmering gold he chose earlier. Once I finished that task, I rummaged around trying to find metallic glitter.

"Oh, God, please no glitter." He complained, apparently having noticed the direction of my thoughts.

I blew a raspberry at him. "Oh shush, the gold is pretty, but I think it needs extra sparkle at the ends there — "

"Nope. No way. This is fine." Troy denied, flattening his hand to look at his colorful nails in front of him. He gave me a bright grin. "Really, this looks great. Thanks!" He pecked my cheek and the flames heated my face. Listening to him rave and compliment my work, I finally conceded.

"Okay, then, let that set for a minute — and don't get it smudged! — I'll put a top coat so it'll last longer, and then you can do my nails."

Once Troy got over the initial shock and the playful debate that resulted from his comments about gender norms, he willingly let me do whatever I wanted unless it involved glitter.

"Yes, men can do the same things women can, too." I tried not to sound condescending, but I couldn't help the fact he was raised during a time of oppression. But Troy respected my views, even if he didn't understand them. He knew that over the years as times changed, people changed as well. Who gave a damn what society thought was appropriate for different sexes, anyway. "Give me time to think it over," he noted. "I grew up during an era that was birthed and died with the notion that women had their place in the world as mere property, and children should be seen but not heard. My parents treated one another as equal partners in their relationship though, something I wish to emulate with you. Our children won't have to fear these changes, but rather learn and make informed decisions for themselves.

"You gave me a different perspective, and I'll seriously consider the points you made." I rewarded his maturity with a sound kiss. It wasn't the aged-old battle of who was wrong or right, it was our opinions being discussed like responsible adults. I'd pointed out we were in the twenty-first century, and he'd responded that not everything in society had to change. I countered back that sometimes change is good, to which he begrudgingly agreed. We bantered back and forth talking about common stereotypes, gender equality, cultural differences, and thus unanimously concluded that we learned a lot from each other with the discussion. While we had common areas of interests, it was ok we didn't agree on every insignificant detail in order to get along.

"That's what makes us unique," Troy affirmed, his face inches from my thumb in intense concentration. As he took the initiative, while we talked, he began the painstaking process of brushing sheer pink on my nails. "And I do agree that society would be better if we continued to fight for equality between men and women."

However, my train of thought derailed again. This conversation happened around the time of exams, after all. "Hey, when do you want to register to take the G.E.D exam? I was hoping to aim sometime after New Years. We studied hard, you know."

My boyfriend thought for a little while. "Yeah, I suppose we should see if a school nearby is open during the weekend. Want to go together next Friday?"

I nibbled on my lower lip, watching Troy work on my index finger. "That sounds okay."

"Alright, it's a date." Troy said cheekily.

I rolled my eyes and he continued to stare lovingly at me, somehow managing to dip the brush back in the bottle. The entire time, he didn't look downwards and blindly brushed across my knuckles.

"Oh no, I was distracted!" He apologized, looking very much like a scolded puppy.

I calmed him immediately. "Not to worry, I have polish remover in the bathroom cabinet."

Ten minutes of intense concentration later, Troy finished my nails without another glaring mistake. A glint of mischief twinkled in his eyes, and I reminded him to wait until my nails dried. He pouted like a stroppy child, but obeyed reluctantly, stealing a kiss here and there to pass the time. At last, as soon as I signaled him with a crook of my index finger, he pounced.

"Good lord, Troy, do you not have a refractory period?!" I cried, willingly pliant in his hands as his lips latched onto a sensitive spot on my neck. Everything felt ten times more intense with the pregnancy hormones pumping through my bloodstream. Troy made quick work of removing our clothes, and we satisfied our appetite for each other through two rounds of foreplay. His hands mapped the expanse of my body, leaving not one inch untouched. At the foot of the bed, his prone form knelt, back hunched over and thighs parted. Troy's mouth laved attention to uncharted territories — my feet. When he got to my ankles, I squirmed, feeling ticklish. My feet were pinned underneath his fists.

"Use your words, honey." Troy breathed and smiled knowingly against each shin. His grip loosened infinitesimally to allow me enough wiggle room to slip from his grasp if I was uncomfortable. "Is this okay? I won't go further if you don't want me to."

Chest heaving with the effort to remain still, a fine tremor began in my muscles. I racked my brain for an appropriate reply. "Please don't go past the arch. My feet are very ticklish."

A ghost of a whisper and several open-mouthed kisses were punctuated on the tops of my feet. It finally dawned on me I gave him ammunition to tease me at another point in time. Stupid brain. But, he had already found my other ticklish spots, so I figured, what was one more added to the growing list?

Troy tried, bless him, to be firm and not aggravate my sensitivity. As he kissed and sucked bruises on each surface area, he mumbled medical terms, which I soon realized was the anatomy of the feet. Ligaments, bones, and blood vessel terminology past his lips in an almost reverent hush. It was obvious he recited with perfect recall, and other people would probably think he killed the mood right then. However, when he released both of my feet to hoist one leg up in the air so close to his face to get a better angle, my heart swelled with love at his unusual display of affection. Both loves in his life — me, and medicine. Due to his immortality and the traits that came with it, he'd had the epiphany that professional basketball wasn't an option anymore. Not unless he wanted to out his secret as one of the undead and send the human race into chaos. True, he'd admitted he was distraught at the idea of losing a life-long dream, but he found an alternative passion working in the medical field. Since Troy's humanity was so ingrained in helping others, I wanted to encourage him in every way possible to continue to chase that dream.

I tried not to overthink and instead attempt to memorize the foreign jargon that Troy said, but my body jerked in reaction as he strayed too far out of my comfort zone. It wasn't painful, but increasingly ticklish to the point I thought I'd go insane. In our past play fights, I'd remind him endlessly that I shouldn't be held accountable for my reflexes and any resulting possible injuries. Troy took the advice to heart and made sure his important parts were distanced targets from my flailing limbs. I was still considered human, but as of late, my abilities graduated to that of near superhuman. That being said, time seemed to slow to a snail's pace. Once I ripped my legs free, one foot made contact intended for his stomach. Precious seconds crawled by, and my powerful kick caused Troy to tumble backwards and land on the floor below. Horrified at what I just done (oh my god I just kicked his balls!), I scrambled forth to rest his head between my parted thighs and brush the hair away from his dampened forehead.

"I'm so sorry, babe, do you need ice? No, wait, you're practically a living portable ice cube what am I thinking? An ice pack isn't going to help!" Worriedly, I watched Troy whimper, curl into a fetal position, and cup his hands over himself, all the while his face contorted in pain. He stilled on my lap, breathing heavily, and an echo of his pain crashed through my mental barrier like a freight train. My mouth opened in a silent scream and tears welled in my eyes at the severity. All at once, my crotch burned, felt like it was slammed by a rubber mallet, and my labia crushed in a meat grinder. My poor vulva. The echo lasted five agonizing seconds, long enough for Troy to relax and ride out the rest of the waves in miserable silence. Ten more tense seconds ticked by, and his breathing had eventually evened out.

Not content to anxiously wait any longer for instructions on how to help him, I babbled. The words burst forth before I realized what I actually said. "What do you want me to do? Should I call Jim? Do you want me to kiss it to make it better?"

Troy's head snapped up at the sound of that and he sent me a sultry look. "Well, if you insist." He purred, seeming overly delighted at that suggestion. Now I knew he had a remarkable healing rate.

I mentally facepalmed. Not one to go back on my word, I scooted backwards to cradle the back of his head until it gently hit the floor, and then shifted awkwardly in a squatting position, rocking forward on the balls of my feet. My balance faltered and I landed flat on my butt. My palms splayed out behind me to break the fall.

"What are you trying to do?" Troy didn't laugh, he was genuinely baffled. I huffed, shooting him a glare to shut him up, and then gradually crept my way around him on my toes, palms inches above the ground in case I fell again. I looked like a sexy goblin. Once I made it to his right shoulder, he grabbed both wrists to stop me. I wobbled precariously and scowled at him.

"What?" I spat, feeling emotional. I did look stupid, and I felt equally rediculus. Why not just end our sexy times now and go to sleep? Maybe my moment of childlike behavior turned him off.

Troy simply smiled at me like I hung the stars in the sky. "I want to try something."

"You what?" I hissed, blinking owlishly and then narrowing my eyes to slits.

He tugged, and I collapsed on his torso. Troy laughed in amusement, nowhere near in pain, and then helped me to face him and straddle his chest. His eyes filled with reverence and lust. "Let's try a new position."

Intrigued, I ignored the swelling amount of insecurity within me. I reasoned if Troy was repulsed by my changing body, then I wouldn't be on top of him in the first place. It was time I faked being confident until I truly believed I was as wonderful as Troy said. Taking a couple deep breaths to calm myself, I reached over to intertwine our fingers together and set our joined hands in front of me on his pecs.

"What did you have in mind?" I asked, waiting to hear him explain his recent discovery. He'd constantly research online about my pregnancy and how to make intimacy more enjoyable for both of us.

Then, an unidentifiable emotion flickered across his face. Troy broke eye contact with me and glanced down at our hands. "Do you like having sex with me?"

Stunned, my jaw dropped on its own accord. Where was this coming from? "Of course I do, silly. I just want to be with you, you know that." I kept my tone cheerful to hide my confusion over his question. Here was a vulnerable side I hadn't seen in Troy, and it greatly concerned me.

The corners of his lips quirked upwards, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. He saw right through me anyway. "I just wondered."

Trying to be as gentle, yet firm, I coaxed him to tell me the truth. "Troy, talk to me. What's wrong? I've always been honest with you, so please tell me what's on your mind. I won't judge."

Finally, our eyes connected. Troy drew courage from this, apparently, and was bold enough to break the deafening silence. "I'm worried you don't enjoy intercourse, specifically."

Blinking again, I willed myself not to freeze in shock. I decided to tread carefully. "I like it, but…"

Troy visibly wilted, and I snapped him out of this funk. "If I wanted to come, I'd prefer you do it orally because that's always amazing. Like, seriously, I don't know how your muscles don't cramp up." A genuine smile formed on my face and I leaned down to kiss him soundly. "Granted, I love the connection we feel during intercourse, but it's difficult for me to get off." Pausing, I collected my thoughts. "Not that that's a bad thing, though. It's not your fault." I hurriedly reassured him. "A small percentage of women can orgasm from penetration alone, anyway."

Seeming to be satisfied with that, Troy chased after my mouth and whined when I didn't comply with his request. "Brie, kiss me."

I shook my head, smiling ever so softly. "So, tell me, baby boy." I whispered against his lips. He let out a broken moan in response and skimmed his hands along my sides. "Oh, you like that name?"

Troy panted and gulped noisily, looking sexed-out already. I drank in the breathtaking sight before me, committing it to memory. Knowing he distracted me on my quest to get him to confess, I got him back on track. "Baby boy, why are you worried?"

He stammered and tensed underneath me, the pet name affecting him just as much as whenever I called him 'Wildcat.' "I feel I'm not doing enough for you. You seem to really be into the foreplay or oral, and that's great! But once we get down to do it, I can't help but notice you hold yourself back."

Oh. I tried again. "You're not insecure about your size, right? Cause, believe me, you fill me up so good. It's just a matter of preference, such as when someone likes vanilla ice cream, while another prefers chocolate. And before you say anything, no, I don't need to get off every time. Since you'v said before you enjoy making me come, I like watching you fall apart, and that's more than enough for me. It's pretty much a confidence boost, like, 'wow, I did that to him. I made him feel good.'"

Troy grinned and looked absolutely delicious. "I see." I gave him a moment to let this sink in. I imagined the wheels whirring to life in his head. "So, are we good?" He clarified cautiously.

"Of course we are." I chirped, kissing him passionately. Pulling away, I murmured, "Now, remind me again which position you're so excited about?"

His knowing smile made me deliriously happy and blew me away. "It's called 69."

"Does it involve gymnastic moves? I'm not very flexible." I said in wonder. Hopefully, we wouldn't get stuck in a compromising position and have to be pried apart by our family members. Or worse, Jim needing to surgically remove one of our limbs or something else went wrong. Life would be just peachy if we ended up in the E.R because we wanted to get it on.

Troy threw his head back and laughed joyfully. "No, it's… here, I'll show you. Turn around first..."

Needless to say, once we got the hang of the certain position, I mentally made a note that it'd be one of our go-tos whenever we wanted to switch things up in the bedroom.