How We Are: A MFM romance

Day Off

Cain

Most people hate Mondays. It's the beginning of a long, excruciating work week. I'm almost sure most people would rather deep throat a gun than wake up on a Monday, knowing what horrors lie ahead in desperate pursuit of a suspiciously light check, clamoring on in a zombified state until they can stumble into the weekend to indulge their socially accepted alcoholic benders.

I don't mind Mondays. I work every day of the week, so there's no safe day for me. No Monday. But there is a day that carries the same dread, the same, God strike me in my bed and don't let me wake up, kind of sentiment.

It's Thursday.

It's Ezra's day off.

That means when I come home, he'll be a ball of needy, horny energy, and the usual way I deal with that--beating the shit outta him-- it's not gonna work. Not as well as it would normally anyway, not for him. Still feels great for me. With the new dynamic between the two of us though, I may have found a solution to the dreaded debacle that is Thursday: fucking him silent. And sure, it's more work than say...pumbling him until his windpipe collapses, but I need him alive, so it will have to do.

My shift blurs by. A few orders get sent back and I fight the urge go off. Ezra would normally just crack a joke, or make me mad at him, and relieve the pressure.

I look forward to it. To him, when I walk through the door, and he'll throw his arms around me and start saying stupid shit.

I got you Chinese it's in the fridge. And why don't you ever let me iron your pants. You look mad, are you mad? You were late.

Anything and everything. So imagine my surprise when I walk in the door and it's silent. No Ezra. He's usually waiting for me.

It's dark. I venture into the bedroom. "Ezra?" I call, turning on the bedroom light.

There he is. Sprawled out on his bed, arm thrown over his eyes, sleeping, the cover half way on his body covering only his lower half. But there's something it can't cover.

Dominique. I set my bags down, and sniff, silently walking toward the bed, taking Ezra's hair in my hand Dragging him out of bed. He wakes up, immediately knowing what's happened.

"Well, well, listen, Cain—I was...well I was—" he chuckles nervously. "Let's just talk about it, will you."

I throw him into the kitchen floor, crossing my arms. This cocky, little shit. How dare he? After he threw a fit about me liking her he sneaks her in after I'm gone, fucks her and doesn't even bother to hide the evidence?

Ezra rubs his head tenderly with a wince. I raise my boot.

"Wa-wa-wait! I..." he leans back on his hands. "She just showed up. It's really not my fault if anyone should be getting the boot it should be her."

I inch my boot closer to his face.

Ezra let's out an exasperated sigh. "Okay, okay! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Cain. Don't boot me?"

I roll my eyes, and turn around.  Dominique is still asleep or pretending.

"You are a piece of shit, Ezra," I inform him.

He smirks. "Sorry, Cain. But...I couldn't help myself she's...she's Dominique. Forgive me? Please?"

I roll my eyes. He's such a little shit. Manipulative. He's not sorry at all, I'm fact, I'm sure he thinks it's funny. But I think I can change that.

I shrug. "'S all good. Let's make Dominique a free bingo space. If she wants to fuck its fine. Either one of us. Deal?"

He nods.

"But uh...I told you this morning I was gonna fuck you and that didn't change so...you ready?"

His eyes widened. "I mean...I prepped and all but I just—" he pointed to the room.

I raise my brow. "Yeah but that's none of my business. I didn't tell you to do that, did I?"