.

Crimson Claws

20

For as long as he could remember, Michael Panucchi had possessed a characteristic that had driven everyone around him nuts. An often profound insomnia as soon as even a semblance of "morning" replaced the night. No child was constantly awake with Twillight. He was. Alessio and Fabio - as he had noticed in his early youth when they had all shared a room - became a little more restless in their sleep at these hours between deepest night and dawn. But only he woke up. And stayed awake. After sunrise, he could often fall asleep again or take a good nap (like an old man, as Alessio often pointed teasingly out). When he was a baby and toddler, it was torture for his parents, who in later years turned those agonizing vigils into affectionate anecdotes.

At least he didn't annoy anyone once he got older and could get up on his own, do his homework during those hours or even sneak off to the TV in the living room to watch the earliest of early children's shows. Or the latest violent adult movies like Rambo or Terminator. Something that had been more Alessio's thing than his, but whenever Michael had tried to include Alessio in his pre-sunrise rituals he had grunted sleepily, kicking him from his reclining position in bed until he let him sleep in peace. Michael was getting older - but he had never outgrown the urge to get up before everyone else did. And now he enjoyed it even more than as a child. Probably because he had the really nice apartment he shared with Fabio and Alessio and Danger to himself, apart from his brothers' bedrooms, who often stayed in bed with their lady visitors or alone almost until midday if they could.

Michael could get up in peace, shower, shave, get dressed, make himself a cappuccino and sit at the kitchen island reading the newspaper on his laptop. He was the only one in the family (related by blood as well as only crime, he feared) who really kept up to date with what was happening in the world. It was only when he was rinsing his cup (at the transition from nautical to civil twilight) that Danger stirred for the first time on his pillow in the corner, opened his huge mouth to yawn, stretched, let his bones crack.

Michael wasn't exactly the dog type. And if he had been, he wouldn't have gotten a Cane Corso (in NEW YORK!). That was actually Alessio's dog. Not that he did much with the beefy, 110 pound guy who had been given to him by a scared bloke who organized dog fights and had gotten on Alessio's wrong side. Alessio liked the idea of leading such a huge dog on a leash, showing it around and scaring people with it. A breed that had also fought wild animals and mauled people in Collosums in ancient Rome. Add to that this infantile name that could have come from a fourteen-year-old teenager's brain!

Michael had gotten Danger into the habit of listening to "D". That was less embarrassing. D himself was a relatively sociable dog after a crash course with a pretty good dog trainer. At least he didn't eat smaller dogs, didn't chase after squirrels unless you goaded him like Alessio, the big jerk, and usually wasn't interested in humans who didn't give the muscular animal a wide berth of their own accord. Michael enjoyed walking D and jogging in Central Park. He himself needed to run and to get a bit of distance from the big city - as did the dog. The rest of the day they had a dog walker, which they had to pay twice and thrice for because of D's own flaw, which was even more annoying than Michael's but which Alessio could get excited about.

D basically couldn't be let off the leash around female dogs (all of New York required leashes anyway, but where there's no judge, there's no executioner, as their father always said). The dog was ... very eager to spread his seed, to put it politely, and only physical and biological circumstances such as the fact that his chosen partner was not quite right for him (a Chihuahua or a Maltese or a Dachshund) prevented him from mounting a fragrant female dog and ravishing her uninhibitedly on the pristine lawn in Central Park. Michael could do without the shrieks of the prim and proper owners. And the sight of a big dog destroying his much more delicate upper east side mistresses was disturbing. Even when everyone turned away, you could hear the panting, whining and slapping of the huge dog testicles on his partners.

Sometimes Michael thought his brother had wanted this dog just because of the monstrous breed (a kind of misguided self-esteem issue like when others get a hot sports car). But the mating urge made Alessio KEEP this dog. Perhaps a subconscious poetic irony that Alessio owned an animal that could not only shred opponents but also spread its seed far and wide across New York, conquering "territory" as it were. Michael didn't begrudge D tossing his hot dog down the hallway with bitches who weren't emotionally and physically broken afterward and were more his size. But not under his watch. So little romantic but all the more animalistic escapades were also the reason why Michael took the dog out so early (apart from the heat that would spread after sunrise). Hardly anyone except fitness-enthusiastic cyclists and joggers were out and about before six in the morning. They all ignored the fact that Central Park didn't "open" until after six and the police ignored the ignorant - that's how Michael liked it. This way there was less danger for future Mastiff - Poodle bastards.

That was their common pre-dawn routine. A slap from Michael against his thigh and D got to his feet. Another stretch, another yawn, then the dog, who could easily knock Michael over and drag him all over New York, tolerated being leashed. D enjoyed the early morning hours even without fucking, because he was not only allowed to shit in peace and quiet and trot at least 4 miles next to this human. No- then he even would then buy a pretzel or even better a ham/egg bagel to share with him. Perfect.

Located in the upper part of Hells Kitchen, it was only a stone's throw from their apartment to Columbus Circle where Michael and D entered Central Park, walking the short side of the park from west to east for the first twenty minutes and progressively advancing into the interior of the green.

It was almost 70F now, the thermometer would climb far into the 90, and Michael was enjoying the loudest silence you could get in New York at this time of day, complete with birdsong. Had he had a religious streak, he would have called it a humbling experience. He often felt like a celebrity being offered a rather private treat when he started his route here. The wide bridge underpass that carried Central Drive was well-lit in the first light of dawn a few minutes before the actual sunrise and yet a little forlorn and otherworldly despite the vehicles rushing overhead. Michael faltered in his stride as the entrance to the underpass and the lingering figure came into view. D huffed cautiously, his eyes fixed on the tall figure, who was doing stretching exercises to warm up his muscles, as was customary for experienced runners. Otherwise the dog was largely indifferent to other people, but perhaps the animal had sensed his human's tension, even if he was now moving more slowly and stalling for time. A hundred thoughts raced through Michael's head. That this couldn't be a coincidence. That it had to be a trap. But why him? Why here? Why really, because Alessio or even one of the girls would be a better target to send a message, whatever that message might be. And then Michael had no more time to think and question or regret his fate because Sonny turned around. And gave him that stoic, barely expressive look. Michael's gaze scanned Sonny, really just looking for some kind of weapon. But thinking about where the guy might have hidden it while wearing a black tank top and form-fitting running shorts made Michael blush, and when he lifted his eyes and realized that Sonny had been checking him out as much as he had (surely just looking for weapons - yes - surely), he felt uncomfortably and completely unjustifiably aware of his old soft T-shirt and unflattering Adidas sweatpants.

"Hi," Sonny said, and Michael said 'Hi,' too, because for the life of him, he didn't know what to say. Or what to do. Just keep walking? Start his morning round somewhere else? But this was HIS starting spot, as infantile as that sounded in his head. Sonny, or rather Graziella Dracon, had already crashed Lakisha's birthday, the girl refused to talk about it and Alessio was also evasive on the subject as if he wasn't done thinking about his next move and that put the rest of their junior pack on edge and so Michael too. He wasn't going to let his cherished morning routine be ruined now. And the thought of turning his back on Sonny was terrifying. So Michael did the only thing he could think of. He started stretching like he always did. D had enough slack in the leash to reach Sonny and sniff the flat of the hand he was holding out to the dog.

"Nice boy," Sonny hummed.

" It's Alessios and quite a humper," Michael growled as he loosened his arm and shoulder muscles and watched Sonny closely out of the corner of his eye as he leaned to the side after an amused huff and began to stretch his torso muscles. He said nothing more. And Michael didn't say anything either. Both men stretched their arms, legs, hip flexor muscles and the front and back of their thighs. Was that supposed to be? Michael thought grimly, trying not to follow Sonny with each new exercise when he thought the guy wasn't paying attention. You could tell Sonny was practiced at warming up like this. Damn, his body looked like he had a VIP membership at American Fitness. Did he jog too? Among other things. Did he want to jog HERE? Did he do it regularly? Was he as much of an early bird as Michael, or had he just been lured out of his new home by the threat of imminent heat? How was Michael supposed to enjoy his routine if he was constantly in danger of running into this guy with unclear intentions whose boss had equally unclear intentions?

Then Sonny stopped, bouncing on the balls of his feet with a few deep breaths. Michael saw that his shoes were of an expensive but worth the money running brand, already scuffed and much used. His feet were huge, at least an 18, but Michael remembered that Sonny had always worn big shoes as a teenager. He had never seen him without sturdy shoes, not even in summer. Sonny took a few deep, smooth breaths, which were relaxing even for Michael, whereas the sight of his expansive chest was less so. The tank top didn't do much to hide the bulging muscles. The man who looked very much like the fourteen-year-old boy from back then and yet was so different pulled out a scrunchy and tied his previously loose cornrow braids into a rather neat ponytail. The style suited him much better, giving him more of a cool than a silly look, and Michael stared after him as he jogged into the underpass. And turned around after a few yards and looked at him questioningly as he jogged on the spot.

"Are you coming?" asked Graziella Dracon's right hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world that they should be doing this together. His voice echoed in the underpass, sounding dark but not threatening, rather warm and encouraging.

Although Michael was by far the most level-headed and reserved of his brothers, he was no quitter. And quite honestly, it was better to jog WITH him and keep an eye on him than to be constantly wary because Sonny could jog around a corner at any time. Maybe ... if Michael played nice, he would find out what Graziella was up to in the mid and long term.

So Michael tightened his grip on D's leash, made a clicking sound and the dog started trotting and caught up to Sonny, who waited for Michael to join him and then fell into step with him.

For the first mile or so, Michael couldn't help but face every blind bend in the road with trepidation. He didn't know what Sonny was up to here but with each step ... it became harder to believe it was anything other than a morning jog. Of course it was something else because although Michael didn't remember Sonny as the great planner and plotter ... he might have changed. Or he had orders from his boss. Because even though Graziella had seemed very guileless in the club, she had also been in full control. With a confidence and poise that must have been genuine and fed by an agenda. So - was this part of the agenda? But if it was ... why? For what?

It was hard to imagine that this action here served some higher twisted purpose. And it was harder to stay on edge all the time when it was such a quiet, basically perfectly inconspicuous morning in the heart of Central Park. Michael had walked this route hundreds of times. They were now on one of the wide streets in Central Park where most of the runners would be, and later thousands of tourists, cyclists and countless school classes who would be doing their sports lessons in Central Park with running, soccer or baseball matches. And even now there were numerous joggers out and about and nobody would ambush or shoot him here, that would be stupid because it would be too public. D on the leash next to him had fallen into his eager, almost mechanical trot, was a concentrated runner when he was in his own canine zone, his gaze straight ahead, so used to Michael's pace that the leash never had much tension and his panting and the clicking of his claws on the asphalt was almost hypnotic.

Just like the view of Sonny, who always and effortlessly kept a few steps ahead of him as if to prove that there was nothing here, least of all him, to worry about. Or as if to mock Michael because there was no danger in having someone like him at his back. Well, Michael didn't feel particularly mocked. He wasn't Alessio, who would have turned this into an aggressive race. Or Fabio, who would have given up in a huff after a mile at the latest. Regardless of whether it was a malicious or thoughtful gesture - Michael couldn't have cared less, as it helped him to relax further. And the sight itself ... he certainly wasn't complaining about that. When the civil twilight gave way to the real dawn, Michael himself was in the zone he got into while jogging. Breathing, running, the prickling in the muscles of his calves, the sound of his and Sonny's shoes on the asphalt, the rustle of life awakening or still awake around them.

Sonny's skin on his arms and lower legs, kissed by the first rays of sunshine. The tank top that stretched over the wide torso and the shorts that clasped Sonny's ass and yet seemed to reveal miles of body. Valleys and hills of hairless muscles. Radiant melanin and glistening sweat. God how his orange cornrow braids tied at the nape of his neck bobbed with every step! How the sun's rays danced on his skin, punctuated by the lush canopy of trees! Michael couldn't look away and if his breathing hadn't been mechanized by the routine of the daily act, he would have been breathless. Nevertheless, he felt light on his feet, even light in the head.

Without really realizing it, they had passed Rumsey Playfield, Cedar Hill, the Obelisk, had walked around the entire expansive Reservoir - the largest former water supply reservoir in the city. Michael hadn't even noticed the far-reaching hiss of the recently restored giant fountain or the antics of the water birds. They were already at Belvedere Castle, never closer to a real enchanted European castle than now, before the staff of the Central Park Conservacy opened the doors to the upper two levels of battlements and the souvenir store inside, deserted and magical in the morning sunlight. The steps up to the ever-accessible lower battlements made Michael's lungs burn, embarrassed as he was otherwise in better shape. But these were special circumstances. Sonny was already doing stretching exercises, his shadow long and lithe, deformed by the position of the sun and almost black on the otherwise already glowing stone. He was looking out over Turtle pond below the castle and the vast Great Lawn beyond, where in the distance some yoga groups were greeting the morning or something. He paid no attention to Michael when he let go of D's leash so that the dog could crash in the shade and rest.

With a few deep, gathering breaths, Michael joined his childhood... Yes, what had he been? Not a childhood friend - more like a presence. No one had ever claimed the older but constantly self-absorbed boy as a friend, although if he had been more bossy and aggressive he could easily have made it as their leader. And at the latest since he had virtually outed himself as gay (at 14!- who did that?) he had even become the target of all kinds of mockery and slander. So much so that an eight-year-old girl had managed to steal him away to Italy.

Uncomfortable, Michael stretched, loosening his leg muscles and those in his lower back until he had gathered enough breath and courage.

"I'm sorry," Michael said, whereupon Sonny looked at him, his shirt still on his chin because he had just wiped the sweat off his face. God, Michael had to force himself not to ogle his abs.

"That we were so shitty to you as kids," Michael specified.

Sonny rubbed the back of his neck with the shirt, shrugging as if he wanted to shake it all off. "Kids are assholes - that's normal."

"So are adults," Michael said and Sonny grunted in agreement. Then as now. He was just a non-verbal guy, that was the coloring of his character. Both of them were probably thinking about the thrashing his father, Glasses, had constantly given him. Even his mother - when she hadn't been indifferent - had sometimes hit him and Sonny had tolerated it. Not something that had earned him the respect of the other children.

"We should have kept you," Michael said, and he knew he was blushing at his own words. God, he didn't know how to save THAT himself.

The seemingly overpowering man next to him laughed. Quietly and yet sonorously.

Sonny's smile was small after that - but there and gentle. He was not made of stone, not expressionless. Everything was there ... You just had to look. Michael didn't want to look away.

"I would have done anything for you brats and the family. If you'd let me be me."

"Graziella did that?"

"Always. And she needed me. She still does."

Sonny looked off into the distance again, his eyes traveling over the city skyline around them.

"What's she up to, Sonny?"

"Don't worry about it. Just go along - it won't be to your detriment."

Michael nodded slowly, hearing the threat in it. Alessio wasn't good at 'just going along'. And he would encourage others.

"I need to know if there's anything I can do to protect my friends." He didn't say family. That would have been tantamount to a small declaration of war. There were always changes of power within the syndicates. Bosses changed. It was hard to stay on the good side of the old and potential new leadership. In good grace and at the same time as safe as possible if not forgettable. Those who were forgotten were less likely to be shot. Being an asset but not cannon fodder was a difficult balancing act. He had no idea how to protect his stupid macho brothers - they would probably both dig their own graves at some point. But Gia, Paola, Lakisha - he was the most responsible of them (since Sonny had left). He had to at least try to keep them out of the shit that was looming in the sky.

Sonny looked at him, his full-lipped mouth slightly open in something like awe but his forehead in barely visible frown lines. Michael didn't know what was about to happen, but he was both afraid and looking forward to it. But before Sonny could take a step towards him, or he towards him, some middle-aged joggers came huffing and puffing up the stairs and Michael stepped back, his head red with shame. God, he almost-

Sonny took him by the hand and pulled him to the footpath on the other side.

"Hey," Michael gasped, too stunned to resist and not sure he wanted to.

"Come on. Your Humper needs a drink and I need to go to the bathroom."

The dog followed of his own accord, dragging the leash behind him, attentive but not aggressive in the face of his companion being manhandled and only half-willingly stumbling down the slope. A comparatively well-maintained and recently unlocked restroom facility was quite hidden at the foot of the castle, surrounded by bushes and tall trees, a fenced-off area with park vehicles behind it and not very busy with tourists, especially at this hour. Sonny let go of Michael, the loss to Sonny's heated hand both a blessing and something to mourn. His hands were sweaty but he hadn't been nervous about what Sonny might do to him for a long time ... but because of what Sonny could do to him!

Graziellas henchman went without further words to the right where the men's toilets were and Michael went to one of the outside sinks and turned on the tap. He gathered water in his hands and roughly washed his face. The cold water did him good and with wet hands he rubbed his neck and throat, then patted the edge of the washbasin while clicking his tongue. D was familiar with this and gladly accepted the offer. The massive dog stood on his hind legs, his front paws in the sink and licked water greedily and sloppily so that Michael had to take a step back to avoid being bathed.

He didn't even bother to wipe his dripping face, would enjoy it if his heated skin dried on its own. He looked through the canopy for a few moments at the patches of blue sky, heard squirrels around him, a woodpecker and other animals he couldn't tell apart. Sometimes ... in brief moments ... he could imagine he was part of this nature (as natural as nature could be in New York). Sometimes he felt like it was all magic. Sometimes he felt like magic himself, even if he would never be able to tell anyone. He would probably have the nickname magical girl pinned to him forever. When he looked to the side because D had stopped slurping water, Sonny was standing there, his hands still wet from washing them inside, staring at him as if he was seeing him for the first time.

Michael smiled apologetically at him, knowing he must look like a soaked poodle himself. This jog had worn him out like none before. And not really physically. He wasn't a blabbermouth and he knew Sonny didn't hold it against him, but now he had the urge to make excuses for his condition.

"Summer in New York City - eh? Fucks you up, smoking hot. How was it in that part of Italy where you were?"

Suddenly Sonny was all over him, his arms around his waist, pressing him against the stone wall of the building. Juicy lips crushed against Michael's and he slipped his tongue into his mouth. Michael stiffened, made a noise like a small startled animal and heard D growl, but Sonny growled back - right into Michael's mouth - and for some reason that made Alessio's much-vaunted attack dog whine and retreat. After a few panicked moments of Michael trying to push Sonny away and failing, the resistance melted from his body. At the same time, Sonny became gentler, his face against his no longer a suffocating force but his raspy 24 hour stubble against Michael's face and hands around his middle triggering pleasurable shivers. Michael blamed it on his inability to break away from Sonny that he kissed back. Yes - he had to stick his tongue in Sonny's mouth too - it was practically self-defense. Sonny tasted a bit like salmon - maybe from his breakfast - not that Michael minded. He liked fish and probably tasted like cappuccino himself. He didn't manage to pull Sonny against him when Sonny was already pressed against him because his body felt numb and detached from everything that wasn't Sonny, but he clawed his fingers into the fabric of Sonny's tank top. The taller man pulled away from him far too quickly, a string of saliva shining in the sunlight stretching and tearing between them as he said in a deep vibrato.

"Yes. Smoking hot."

Michael leaned against the wall, exhausted and breathing heavily. That ... hadn't sounded like Sonny had responded to his comment about the weather. He was half hard and embarrassed but had too much jello in his brain and legs to do anything about it. His lips tingled and he felt the ghost of Sonny's stubble on his face. He wondered if he would show beard burn. The thought made it even harder to will his stiffy away.

Sonny pulled away from him slightly, but kept one hand on Michael's waist as his phone chirped. Michael's heart pounded all the way up to his chin as the other man pulled out his cell phone, looked at it and rolled his eyes like there was a nuisance on the other end.

"Don't-" Michael uttered, panic rising that Sonny - no idea - was taking a picture of him, frazzled and hard from a kiss with a man or even just taking a call while he had him literally pressed against a wall. Although he wasn't really pressing. Not anymore. Michael could have tried to escape. But he didn't. He didn't even try. D sat on the sidelines, ears perked but more wary than fearful, watching the two strange people.

Sonny's thumb of the hand that remained on his body began to rub small reassuring circles. Pressing but not painful. An assurance along with the warm voice.

"Do not worry. It's Giovani. He has a seventh sense for this sort of thing around here."

"Your boyfriend?" Michael inquired, not knowing why his heart slipped into his pants. Was he disappointed? Was he disgusted that Sonny had made the first move even though he was in a relationship? Girls were sluts and whores if they kissed someone other than their boyfriend or cheated. Guys were the coolest studs if they did. What was it like with gays?

Sonny looked up from his cell phone. "We have an open relationship."

Michael chuckled bitterly. "Liar."

Sonny's one eyebrow crept higher into his hairline, then he used the hand that didn't seem to be burning through Michael's T-shirt at his waist to type. He was extremely fast for having large fingers and only using his thumb.

He pressed send and showed Michael the text.

S: I'm kissing a hot guy I'll be jogging with more often from now on, okay?

Even as Michael was looking at the screen with wide eyes (hot guy? And jogging more often?) the answer came.

GIO: GO FOR IT! I want photos!

Sonny turned the phone towards him, read it, narrowed his eyes in displeasure because he didn't seem to like the answer and typed again before showing it to Michael.

"No photos, no names. This one is all mine. Find your own."

When Michael read that, as embarrassing, invasive, even creepily possessive as it was, he laughed uneasily. Reading that Sonny was referring to him as all his, perhaps just as a weird joke, loosened a knot in Michael and scared him at the same time because this knot was loosening. Then came the answer:

"I'm one step ahead of you babe! You can't leave me hungry. "

In addition, a photo of a guy who, apart from a MET Museum employee uniform shirt that was too wide for him, was lolling around naked in a bed and making a cheeky kissy face at the camera. Behind him, the naked ass of a guy who appeared to be asleep, knocked out from post-coital bliss, oh man.

Sonny read the reply and looked at the photo without any particular reaction, put it away and went towards Michael's lips again. But this time the younger man brought his hand between them.

"I'm not gay," Michael said breathily. Sonny smiled into his palm, grabbed his wrist, kissed his hand like in one of those cheesy bodice ripper that sold fantastically but that no one ever read.

"I don't expect that from you. Be what you want."

He pulled Michael a yard to the side to the bench that stood between the entrances to the women's and men's restrooms, letting him sit on it because he suspected Michael couldn't trust his legs right now. But the young man regained some petulant wit as Sonny stepped back.

"What was that just now?"

Sonny's gaze was dark and eerily revealing - for both of them.

"The way you had your eyes on me the whole time. Impossible not to notice. And the way you just stood there, surrounded by nature, the sunlight that fell through the canopy of leaves dappling your slender, defined figure. So flushed and the water still trickling from your face down your neckline. I'm just made of flesh and blood too. If you don't want to be kissed, then don't look so damn kissable. But you wanted it, didn't you? Earlier, at the castle. I wanted it too. And we're both adults."

Michael knew he must look like a loon as he stared open-mouthed at Sonny. He hadn't really said that.

"That's not the point! I- I'm not like that. I can't. I didn't want this!" Michael said indignantly, his head burning hot. He must have been as red as a tomato right now.

"Michael," Sonny said admonishingly and he shuddered when Sonny said his name for the first time. "Michael, you checked me out at the club."

"I did not! "

"You were glaring and checking me out at the same time. And during the whole jog, too. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy your eyes on me. Don't be afraid, your dad, your brothers or any of your old family. None of them are here. You don't have to prove anything to me."

"I'm not here to prove anything!"

"No. You're a harmony seeker. I get it, I am too. But don't lie to yourself when you're around me. Others already have that role in my life."

Sonny took a deep breath, a paragon of beauty and strength. And he wanted him? After today? Again? Michael vacillated between anger, confusion and denial at Sonny's words. But no matter what his or Graziella Dracon's agenda was, Michael's brain had short circuited and he couldn't say anything when Sonny led D to him by his leash, put the leash in his hand and breathed another fleeting kiss on his lips.

"I start my route every Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Sunday where we met. If you're there, that's your answer. Bye."

Michael was still feeling strangely woozy when Sonny was long gone and he was on his way home - this time walking rather than jogging. It would take him days to analyze the whole morning in his head, right now he couldn't think much at all. In one of the large meadows he saw Nicky, a hot blonde who had been in bed with Fabio before. He had been with her too. Once. And the sex had been okay. She'd had an orgasm. He too. He was NOT gay! Nothing had happened after that and they were both okay with it. Fabio was more her type, more of an unsteady bad boy, but Michael wouldn't have wanted to hit on her anyway. Nicky took her Bernese mountain dog for a walk before it became unbearable for the thick-haired animal. Otherwise, he rarely met her because she walked out too late. Nicky waved from afar. He waved back, not in the mood for small talk that would distract him from his musings. D whined, his eyes fixed on the Bernese mountain dog. 95 pounds of sturdily built big bitch. And spayed. Michael looked down at D, who glanced at him with puppy dog eyes, then back to the lady dog. The man nodded and unleashed him.

"No reason we both have blue balls. Have fun, bud."

With that, D sprinted off towards hanky panky.

Mhmm I love Sonny. He's so comfortable with his sexuality and himself and not drowning in angst like so many other characters. He's my calm boat on a stormy sea.

Thanks for reading and Happy New year 2025. Guten Rutsch! Q.T.