Pretty Boy: The Lost Chapters

Brad's Survival Arc: Part 18

Being home again was so surreal. 

Aside from minor adjustments, not much had changed since Marshall left: the red planks outside of the house still had thriving vines cascading down their lengths in spindly shapes; a lone outdoor swing was still situated a few feet away from a glowing porch light; the small bird's nest on the upper level was still sitting, snug, right below a tall window.

And the smell-

God, that delectable smell.

One of apples and cinnamon remained triumphant, of course. Beneath it, though, several other comforting scents from different sources marked themselves into a shared territory. 

The kitchen had a sweet fragrance clinging to the oven where a batch of custard cups had recently been made. The wooden table in the dining room smelled a bit like a savory, expensive type of beef; either Kobe or Wagyu. A salty scent of popcorn, mixed with the aroma of fresh Sangria, was picked up from the longer couch sectional. A change in detergent made throw blankets give off a strong smell of citrus. Although he wasn't close by at the moment, Brad's signature vanilla cologne was etched into a certain wolf statue near the television.

They all shed light on tiny individual snippets of life going on within a two-floored house.

Once Marshall and Paul entered, their specific scents of sweet copper, musk, and bergamot permeated into every surface around them.

The door was shut blindly, their attention kept on a heated kiss that began as soon as the metal knob was unlocked. Shoes were kicked off in a haphazard manner, accidentally knocking into a few others and overturning them. Keys were tossed onto a free portion of the nearest counter. Outerwear was thrown onto the couch, falling onto the carpet in an unorganized heap.

Marshall laughed as he was hoisted up into a bridal carry. He shivered in response to his partner's natural heat increasing ever so slightly. Beneath his careful touch, goosebumps began to frolic along beautiful tan skin. Light hairs stood on end like an army of soldiers rising to attention. They were soft to touch; and that same pleasant, malleable nature could also be felt when snaking a hand into a forest of short brunet hair. 

Paul let out a quiet gasp when slender fingers threaded themselves into his strands, gently taking root behind his head.

Marshall didn't initiate any type of rough play like pulling or further tightening his grasp. Instead, he simply took joy in the feel of having his partner in his hold again.

Each kiss pressed against his lips made him ravenous for more. He felt like a bee who had just found a wonderful flower filled to the brim with sweet nectar. Suckling to get his fill could only be described as addictive. No matter how much he took, it wasn't enough to satiate his appetite. He needed more, more, more—whatever Paul was capable of giving. Marshall wanted to take it all and feed the greed which had been dormant, brewing within him up until this very moment.

Having those strong hands grab and caress his flesh with reckless abandon after such a long time of being apart felt so right. More than ever.

Before his departure, Marshall had been overwhelmed by his newfound attachment with Paul. The Forever Bond was described as a more intense, more captivating connection than that of a normal imprint bond. Hearing about the ordeal and experiencing it for oneself were two completely different things. Because, in Marshall's case, he himself hadn't known what imprinting felt like when his relationship first began. He didn't know what life had in store for him—only that he'd found his soulmate in an unlikely companion. Together, they'd learned, grew, and loved with everything they had. But Marshall, still in search of who he truly was as a person, never thought he was being as honest as he could be.