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Seems like I should be surprised, but I’m not. People, at their cores, want to dominate others. It’s just a fact of life. You’re weak. You get stepped on. Try to rise up, get stepped on. It’s a whole exhausting process that happens daily without us even noticing. There’s always a struggle, an argument, the chance of violence.

I guess the Human side is just as bad as the Other side when you think about it. The Humans just brush more shit under the rug while Others are unashamed of their viciousness.

Much like Mitri, I have questions.

Just because things are headed toward Crapsville doesn’t mean war yet. Unless it’s a civil war.

It also doesn’t mean that Humans will become food. What makes Mitri think that’s what’s going to happen?

I don’t discount his views. He has who knows how much experience in warfare, but what led him to that conclusion? I guess it’s time to finish my shower and get out there to ask. I have a lot to do today.

I rush through cleaning myself, even though I take a second to smell Ben’s shampoo and sigh. I’m turning into a sap, and I might like it. How horrifying is that? When the smell of a guy’s vetiver shampoo or clove cigarettes gives you warm fuzzies, does that equal relationship or stalking? It’s all in the context, I guess.

Focus, brain!

I step out and dry quickly, then remember to shut off the water as I wrap myself into a towel. Why didn’t I think to bring any clothes with me?

I open the door, releasing the steam from my too-hot shower, only to pause on the threshold. I forgot that it wasn’t just Ben out here. And when did I get comfortable enough with Ben that I strut around in a towel without a care? It must have been while we were in the Bowels.

Neither male has moved and they’re both looking at me. I’m not sure if the look in their eyes is appreciation or violence, so I point hesitantly towards the closet with a muttered, “Forgot my clothes.”

“I have brought your things inside,” Mitri gestures elegantly towards a crushed cardboard box and my go bag. When did he grab that?

Oh shit, my truck!

I release some form of pained whine and close my eyes tight.

“What’s wrong?” Ben quickly stands and hovers over me.

“My truck,” I moan forlornly. “It was at the house when it blew up.Just… fuck my life, man.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have brought this up in front of Ben.

He goes from concerned to raging as his head snaps towards Mitri with a snarl on his lips. The dark ichor around his eyes intensifies enough to cover his face. At the same time, a keening, echoing sound emits from his throat. Bringing up vehicle destruction is never a good idea around a car enthusiast.

“It is safe,” Mitri ignores the obvious threat beside me with his monotone voice. “I have brought it here as well.”

He digs into his jacket’s inner pocket and pulls out a set of familiar keys, laying them gently on the floor by his feet. I appreciate that he doesn’t throw them at me. I’m clutching my towel like some terrified virgin, and I don’t want to drop it.

My shoulders sag in relief as I sigh, “Your service, Mitri. You’re amazing.”

I could kiss that man.

Why don’t you?

My inner hussy just has to have a say in things.

I’m almost positive that Mitri is asexual at this point. Not that I blame him. I’m sureeverythinggets old after a while. No matter how many sexual positions you can come up with, it’s only exciting once, and he’s probably hundreds of years old.

Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the man's skill, grace, and dedication to a cause. Plus, his brain gives me a lady boner. Butwhat a tragic waste of a smokin’ hot body! Not that I would ever tell him that. Mitri do as Mitri do, after all.

I clear my throat awkwardly at my thoughts and scurry over to drag the go bag into the bathroom with me. I just embarrassed myself horribly, lusting after someone who probably doesn’t even feel arousal anymore, much less happiness or care.

He brought you your things. He cares.

Don’t try to convince me, inner ho. This is a slippery slope, and I don’t want to ruin things with the guy I’m bonded with? Soon to bond? May not ever bond again because I’m a horny embarrassment to myself, and I don’t want witnesses? Ugh,feelings.

I spend the time in the bathroom dressing in jeans and a regular shirt. I also convince my inner self that trying to seduce an asexual is just plain rude, and I should think about his feelings.