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Chapter twenty-nine

Gem’s Special Butthole

Rusty

The following month was easily the best month of Rusty’s life. Everything felt brighter, lighter, like a weight he’d been carrying for so long had finally lifted. Like he’d forgotten what happiness felt like, and Gem had simply reminded him.

Gem, and the way he danced around his flat while he cleaned, K-pop blasting from the stereo.

Gem, and the sound of him singing off-key while he took an “everything shower,” whatever the fuck that was.

Gem, and his shrieked giggles, and his outlandish stories, and his sugar-sweet kisses under cotton sheets that smelled of cinnamon and coffee and spicy smoke.

Even as a kit, Rusty had been rather serious and quiet. An old soul, his mother had affectionately called him. But sharing in Gem’s almost child-like wonder of life, joining him in his goofy ideas, allowing himself to be silly, even if it embarrassed him, was freeing in a lot of ways.

Like when Gem insisted that they both learn the dance steps to Touch by Katseye, then perform it for Walter in Gem’s living room.

Or when Gem barked like a dog at a woman on the train who’d given Rusty the stink-eye until she gathered her Kipsie Killer shopping bags and left the train car in a huff.

Or when Gem wanted to have shower sex because, “I’ve never actually done it successfully, but if anyone can do it, we can. ”

They’d tried their best but still failed miserably.

The shower was technically too small to fit them both under normal circumstances, but add sex acrobatics to the mix and it was a disaster.

Things that were supposed to be dry were too wet, and things that were supposed to be wet were too dry.

Then they slipped and fell, and Gem ended up sprawled on the bathroom floor, half inside the shower stall, half out as he howled with laughter.

Rusty swore he sprained his tail, but he’d laughed until his eyes watered as he ran a comforting hand through Gem’s soaked leg fur.

“I wish I had cameras in here,” Gem said as he giggled. “I kinda wanna see the replay of that.”

“I’m not making a sex tape with you,” Rusty said dryly, and Gem’s head shot up, eight eyes wide.

“Oh my gods, we’d break the internet! Like Y2K, but with way more ass.”

Or one of the many times Gem had started to ramble during sex—because he never stopped talking, even if Rusty was fucking him into the mattress—and he’d whimpered, “I want you to get me fucking pregnant.”

Rusty paused his rhythm, cocking his head in confusion. “What?”

Gem’s eyes flashed dangerously as he practically shouted, “Fuck me like you’re gonna knock me up!”

And even though Rusty didn’t know what that meant, he’d done his best, and a few minutes later, Gem had come with a cry of, “For Gemusty! ”

Half an hour later, once Gem had come down from his orgasm and Rusty caught his breath, he scratched at Gem’s scalp and asked, “Gemusty is our mutant lovechild, aren’t they?”

Gem blinked discordantly, brows furrowing like he wasn’t sure what Rusty was talking about. Then they cleared in understanding, and Gem laughed. “Oh yeah, and trust me, we do not want to procreate. Gemusty is ugly A.F., but we’d still love them because they’re special.”

And deities below, how Rusty laughed.

“Dead,” Gem guessed, and Rusty nodded, moving his hands in encouragement. “Um, dead body. Murder victim. No? Okay. But you’re definitely dead.”

Technically, he wasn’t dead, but Gem was on the right track. For once.

As much as Rusty enjoyed hanging out with Gem and his family, he did not appreciate their obsession with charades.

Not only did he not like attention or standing in front of everyone as he acted out ridiculous things—like showgirl or earthquake or that-one-time-Mylo-almost-drowned-but-didn’t-because-Mymi-saved-him —but he was usually saddled with Gem as a partner.

Even though he adored the Araknis, he was the first to acknowledge that Gem sucked at charades.

“Okay, so, graveyard? Grave robbers? Digging up a dead body to steal the family heirlooms.” Gem threw up several frustrated hands. “How is that still wrong? Wait, makeup? Putting makeup on a dead body? That’s upsetting. Uh, cover the children’s ears—necrophilia?”

“Gem!” everyone cried as Hyl said, “That’s time.”

“Seriously?” Rusty threw up his hands. “Necrophilia?”

“Well, I don’t know. Next time, try being less sexy while you’re dead,” Gem defended.

“This is why I wanted to be Ryni’s partner,” Rusty grumbled, and Ryni looked up from the book she was reading and shot him a brief grin. “She would have known to guess mortician. ”

Gem crossed several arms over his torso. “Well, that’s offensive.”

“I think you and Ryni have won enough times,” Dierdri said, and Rusty scowled.

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want to be Gem’s partner.”

“He’s got you there, dear,” Mal said with a peck to Dierdri’s cheek.

“Um, rude, Mymi,” Gem whined. “Maman, I’m your first-hatched child. Defend me.”

“Gemae, my love, you’re rather terrible at charades,” Dierdri said, not unkindly, and Gem shrieked in outrage.

“This is child abuse, and it will not stand!”

To calm him down, Rusty leaned in and kissed him, ignoring the good-natured jeers from Gem’s siblings. Yeah, Rusty liked Gem’s family. He especially liked not having to pretend around them that he and Gem weren’t more than friends, more than coworkers.

At work, they had to be stealthier. Gem, however, was probably the least subtle person in existence, and Rusty was pretty sure everyone—with the exception of Toni—was picking up on the blatant flirting Gem constantly threw his way.

Like he couldn’t help himself, he was always touching Rusty—a hand between his ears, a gentle stroke of his tail, and yes, grabbing his butt whenever he thought Oliver wasn’t watching.

It didn’t bother Rusty as much as he’d first assumed it would.

Not only was the physical affection validating, but he also wanted people to know.

He wanted to claim Gem in public and be claimed in return.

He wanted to see the jealousy on stranger’s faces when they saw Gem lean down to kiss him.

Stranger still, he wanted to talk to people about it.

Everything inside him wanted to blurt it to Oliver whenever they hung out after work.

While they played video games, waiting for Liel to come home, Rusty had to bite his tongue to keep from revealing the truth.

As Oliver taught him how to play a human board game called chess, it took all his self-control not to ask the human advice about love and shit.

How had he known that he loved Liel? When did it happen? What did it feel like? And did it match the maelstrom of emotion swirling in Rusty’s chest when he thought about Gem or saw Gem or kissed Gem?

Somehow, he managed to keep the secret, though judging from the ever-growing knowing looks Oliver sent their way while they worked, Rusty didn’t think it was a secret anymore.

The one person he could talk to was, surprisingly, Enfys.

He’d started spending more time with her in the hours after he’d clocked out and before she started meeting clients.

Not that he’d wax poetic about Gem or anything, since Enfys would have teased him for it, but it was nice to not have to pretend with her.

And he genuinely liked her company. She was crass and funny, fierce and strong. She told him a bit about growing up in Sloth, but he got the sense it was a touchy subject. Since his past was just as tender, they kept things close to the surface.

They’d swap client-disaster stories that would have made Gem cry, but Enfys would howl with laughter, ready with her own tale to regale that usually topped Rusty’s in both audacity and shock-value.

As strange as it seemed, it felt good to make light of the years that had weighed so heavily on his shoulders, and Enfys understood in a way most other people couldn’t.

She wasn’t gaiz, not like Gem and Oliver, but Rusty had a feeling she would be eventually.

It took a few invites for her to finally join Rusty at a game night with everyone from the cafe. But she fit in well, Rusty thought, and after Gem had pouted sufficiently, even he warmed up to her. A little.

Enfys, for her part, seemed to like Rusty’s friends.

She had a particularly fun time flirting with Bryce—the veterinarian they’d met at Oliver’s parents’ house—as he was rather bumbling and blushed a lot.

Since Zef was hosting game night at their condo in Envy, Bryce joined in the festivities as well.

He’d moved into Zef’s spare bedroom a few weeks ago, and it seemed to be going well for them.

While Glyma, Willow, and Krul made a puzzle on the coffee table, Jude and Bryce sat on the loveseat, discussing a human sport called hockey.

Enfys, Quin, Tad, Toni, and Zef had started a game of poker as Oliver and Rusty set up a new round of chess, using the end table situated between two lounge chairs.

As Rusty considered his next move, Gem sat down on the armrest at his side and said, “Why don’t you move one of the bald children to Oliver’s side so his king can knight it?”

“You mean the pawn?” Rusty asked, and Gem shrugged, inspecting the fresh nail polish Rusty had painted on his nails last night.

“Maybe. I don’t remember their names.”

“That’s not how pawns move,” Oliver said .

“Yeah, maybe don’t offer advice on a game you don’t know how to play,” Rusty said.

With a huff, Gem scowled down at Rusty, “I do too know how to play. You taught me, remember?”

“No, I tried to teach you, and you said, ‘Oh em geez, Rus, this is so boring. Can’t we just smash?’” Rusty grumbled, heart stuttering to a halt as Gem squeaked and Oliver’s head lifted, eyebrows high on his forehead.

Glyma and Willow turned toward them as well, and the skin under his fur flushed with mortified heat.

“It,” he added quickly, clearing his throat. “Can’t we just smash it .”