Severed [GB + SB]

Eleven: Truth & Consequences

FRIDAY, again... Hrm.... This better not be another "Thursday," that fucker never ended

Half hour later, after giving Sean a kiss - he'd been sitting at the table eating granola and blueberries in almond milk and watching kitten videos - I was trailing behind Victor and Gabe (who refused to let me carry my school bag or any of the others) trying to get the plastic wrapping off a bottle of "Starbucks S'mores Frappuccino" - which sounded friggin' tasty! - towards Victor's car, when a ginormous black SUV pulled into Owen's driveway and parked beside the silver BMW. Victor scowled, eyeing how close the two vehicles were, and I slowed down as I reached the behemoth SUV about to pass in front of it, feeling strangely tentative.

The passenger door opened, and Axel emerged, looking so damn Axel-ly that my mouth watered. Serious to God, he had Hollywood-style lighting and a fan blowing back his hair, he was that damn cool in his dark sunglasses, his hair rippling like silk spun from the depths of midnight, and his t-shirt hugging his muscular frame like it wanted to have his babies. I ignored the raggedy cargo pants - and Gabe's audible sigh - lest I giggle and spoil the moment. Because, seriously.

And holy shit, he's smiling and kissing me on the lips because he's my boyfriend.

The two gorgeous guys, one with fiery eyes and one blonde streaks in his hair - the two brilliant, talented artists who look like rockstars and move like panthers? Also mine.

Just like the charming doctor cooing over adorable kitty cats in the kitchen, and the suave, pristine gentleman who left about an hour ago.

Mine.

And so is the ripped, inked, and pierced Russian bad boy climbing out of the driver's seat, in a black tank and jeans I'd like to send flowers to as a thank you. At least I hope he is.

Axel gave me another quick peck on the lips, squeezed my hand, and circled behind to open the back hatch of the SUV. Raven folded up his own sunglasses, tossing them back onto the driver's seat, and gave the door a sharp slam behind him as he crossed the acres - positively miles - of concrete driveway between us... and scooped me up into a tight hug that yanked me right off my feet.

His skin was hot against mine, his arms thick and solid and holding me tight, flattened against him from tip to toe, and I sighed in relief as I twined my arms around his narrow waist and sunk my fingers into the slabs of muscle he called a back. The rich scent of unsmoked pipe tobacco and the sharp burn of spent gunpowder had me drawing deep lungfuls of breath, practically salivating as the slightly salty tang of his clean sweat entered the mix.

"Единственный способ, которым вы могли бы выглядеть лучше сейчас, - это быть голым в моей постели. [Yedinstvennyy sposob, kotorym vy mogli by vyglyadet' luchshe seychas, - eto byt' golym v moyey posteli.]" he whispered in the general direction of my ear, and I'm pretty sure that sharp pain in my side was an ovary exploding.

"Hmm?" I thought this might have been what being drunk felt like, this woozy, floaty feeling that made everything seem dream-like. He chuckled quietly, muttering more Russian, and then suckled gently on that place where my neck met my jaw, right below my ear, as I felt the other ovary pop. "Ouch," I hissed, and he pulled back in consternation but I tried to catch hold of his head to guide it back to my neck. "No, no, it wasn't you... just- a sharp pinch in my side- something overexerted- maybe exploded- just please, Raven, get back to what you were doing!"

"Are you hurt, shikra?" He absolutely refused to obey me and resume the sucking, so I gave up and surrendered to his unexpected tenderness instead of the anticipated, well, hardness that punctuated so many of our interactions. "Did I hurt you?"