CONQUEST • Negan

Insane

Dice—my wife!—grumbled out something inscrutable in her sleep, shifting in the passenger seat as her soft snores hushed over the low melody of 'Jeff Buckley' playing through the car radio, per her request. Honestly, I didn't take her as the type to sleep talk, but it was just one more precious detail, upon the many shocking others I had learned tonight, that I could add to my mental list of 'The Quirks and Traits of the Elusive and Mysterious Dice Marlow'.

At the top of that growing list, written in big, bold letters, was the plot twist of the century, and the starring surprise of the night: Dice wasn't just Dice, she was motherfucking Eurydice Marlow.

Honestly, I didn't know if I felt offended by the fact she never thought to tell me—not shocked, just offended, since I've always been such a trustworthy fella—or like the biggest fool to walk the earth for not realising it sooner. The clue was in the damn name: Dice. Marlow.

She didn't look the same. That was how I decided to justify being such a blind prick. Dice didn't look like the Eurydice Marlow I knew from the magazines or the red carpets—not that she had attended the Met Gala or one of her Daddy's award ceremonies for a good couple of years before the world ended. And yes, I had noticed her absence. How could I not, when Lucille had pointed it out every damn year, being Dice's mom's number one fan?

Honestly, my brain was still desperately trying to catch up to the full circle moment I had found myself living in.

I was now officially married to the daughter of my previous, now tragically deceased wives favourite singer. I was now married to the girl who my previous wife so adamantly believed was being abused by Carter Marlow, even going to the extent of throwing out all of his DVD's and boycotting any of his screenings, in her own display of solidarity—I wonder if Dice would appreciate that information? I was now married to the girl who bludgeoned her ex-boyfriend so badly that he was left physically impaired for the rest of his life.

...Okay so that one wasn't that surprising actually. Which is a little frightening since I'm now her husband, who she might potentially hate more than that Lucas kid.

If she broke his back, what in the hell was she going to do to me when I inevitably found some major way to really fuck up and cross her moral line?

Maybe I should be a little less giddy over being married to this chick, and a little more concerned.

Oh no, wait. Nevermind. I just got hard.

I don't know if that somehow makes me a masochist, or if it was just the thought of being her husband (which I now am!) that got me so fucking turned on.

Meh. Probably both.

Definitely both, I decided, as the image of Dice with her smooth, bare thighs straddling my hips, my dick fully seated inside her, and her hand wrapped around my throat, cutting off both my airways and blood supply, flashed behind my eyes with such great, vivid detail that I almost swerved off the road as I readjusted my thickening cock.

Okay, so, confession time! Five years ago, I learned that I had a major fucking crush on Eurydice Marlow.

I know. Who would've guessed? She was stunning then, but now, she was a goddamn fucking smoke show.

Did I feel like a major fucking creep for being attracted to a woman who was twenty years younger than me? Fuck yes. Did I feel even worse for being attracted to a woman who wasn't my wife? Yes... and no. Eurydice was at celebrity status, so nothing was ever gonna happen there. And anyways, who could fucking blame me for having the hots for Eurydice? She was, and is, gorgeous. Like super model level gorgeous, whilst also not that at all, since she had a personality and this—I don't know, this quality to her that just draws you in like a drug, for lack of better words. Where a model was aesthetically pleasing to look at, Dice was the type that you couldn't tear your eyes from, in fear of missing something; a laugh, a smile, even one of those lethal glares that could bring a man to his knees and have him pleading for mercy.