Date: Sat, 18 Jun 2016 13:11:20 -0700
From: Garth Eads <gartheads@gmail.com>
Subject: A Secondary Chance - part 1

Disclaimer: This is a work of science fiction/fantasy. None of the
characters are real or based on real people. The author holds no
responsibility for any similarities readers find to real life.  All
characters engaged in sexual acts are of legal age. Please do not copy this
story or ideas without the author's permission.


Today has been a very strange day for me as it is the first one I can
remember where I was awakened by silence. Looking over at the Birds of
North America clock on the wall, I can barely tell that it says 5:30 am.
That shocks me because I can't remember the last time I slept in past 3:00
am. Now at this point, a normal person would neither just go back to sleep
or get up and get dressed and go running or swimming or biking or whatever
the fuck motivated people do in the mornings. I should ask Manda what she
does on mornings like these. She probably does yoga or pilates then follows
it up with oatmeal and egg whites. I could do yoga. I'd probably be really
good at it, I'm flexible enough but the overly soothing voice yoga
instructors use makes me anxious. I should probably get up now and do
something productive like start breakfast or do laundry but I don't.
Instead, I get out of the very warm and comfy bed that I spent last night
in, find a shirt and head outside.


The sky is gray and cloudy with the rising sun in the background creating a
contrast of gray and orange and pink. It's windy and cool and the air
tastes like salt which makes sense as I'm literally fifty or so feet from
the beach. I leave the balcony and head out onto the sand which is the same
temperature as the wind, too fucking cold for normal people but I don't
feel or I can't feel it.  I still haven't figured that out yet. To me, it
feels like a tropical day in some island paradise. The air is clean and
fresh and warm. The sand is just the right heat from the sun and chances
were if I went into the water, it would feel just the right temperature,
somewhere between bath and hot tub warm. And because it feels so damn
pleasant, I just stand there, in the cold morning air, on the cold morning
beach, alone with nothing on but a too large shirt that isn't even buttoned
up scenting the rain that was promised last night on the news and the most
important thing is the silence. I don't hear anything. Anything at all. I'm
so fucking happy I could sing or dance or cry but I won't because then I
might wake up because this has to be a dream. There is no way this is a
real life and then I feel it. The feeling of a weight on my hand that
wasn't there before. A weight I'm still not sure I should have. I look down
at my left hand and see the weight, a gold and titanium ring made by some
designer in France or Italy or Russia for all I know that probably costs
more than my soul and then some. Looking at the ring in the morning light
makes me want to cry more or throw up because the ring is proof that this
isn't a dream and that I am awake and that for the first time in what felt
like forever, I actually slept a full night and I don't feel like death
warmed over and more importantly, there is silence. Perfect beautiful
silence.

"Ya Know, if it was sex on the beach you wanted, I would be more than happy
to comply." A deep and rich voice says behind me as one massive arm puts me
in a headlock and drags me back till a hit a brick wall. The voice
continues "Though I request that we don't do it right before it rains. I
don't want ya getting wet sand up your ass."

"Thank you so much for your consideration." I say which not nearly as much
snark as I would have only a few months ago. The arm around my neck
tightens but not in a threatening way. It's more of a show that anything
else though I can still feel all the muscles in the massive biceps and
forearms. I feel the warm strength of well developed pectoral muscles that
would make Mr. Universe envious and I can hear the strong and clear sound
of a heartbeat that could rival a drum line. The almost overwhelming scent
of sweat and musk and sex fills my nose and I want to drown in it. It's
more proof that this is real. I feel warm and rough lips on my exposed neck
and the voice becomes huskier, more raw as it leaves kisses over the bite
marks made last night.

"I love seeing you in my stuff. I love knowing my scent is all over you,
marking you and telling the world you're mine. I might just make you wear
my underwear too." I feel teeth gently bite and nip my ear as the person
behind me speaks.

"The problem with that idea," I say as I reach behind me and grab hold of
the thing poking me in the ass "Is that your underwear is stretched out by
this monster and won't fit me." I hear a laugh and then a hand gently grabs
my exposed penis and balls.

"I don't know, you're pretty big for a little guy. You might fit mine." The
person begins to gently fondle them as I do my best to tease the monster
behind me. I'm getting hard in public on a beach with another naked man
behind me turning this into some porn scenario and I don't care one damn
bit. This is turning out to be the best morning of my life. The hand stops
before I accidently cream and I feel more kisses then suddenly, I'm lifted
into the air and come face to face with the man behind me as he moves me
into a bridal carry in his arms. He isn't the traditional handsome, the
eyepatch ruins that but he is very rugged looking. His short hair is down
and not in the usual slicked back or fauxhawk, he has a strong and square
jaw with five-day scruff around it. His nose has been broken a few too many
times and a rather bushy mustache sits under it. His one good eye is the
purest green I have ever seen and it looks at me as if I am the greatest
wonder in the universe. He brings his rough lips to mine in a kiss and I
eagerly return it throwing my arms around his neck. He slips his tongue and
I meet it, twirl it and play with it in a deep and passionate french kiss.
I love kissing him. We stand there, kissing as the sky turns gray and blue
as the sun rises. As we require air to breathe, we are forced to part and
he looks at me with a look I never thought I'd see. He speaks first.

"Good Morning my husband."

"Good morning my husband." I return the greeting as he turns and makes his
way back into our home.

Home. This house is my home. This place with its four walls and ceiling and
rooms with beds is my home. That is such a strange concept to me. It's not
like I don't understand the concept, I do, it's just it never really
applied to me before and now it does. I have a home and someone who wants
to share it with me for the rest of our lives, however long that may be. My
husband doesn't take me into the bedroom where he would ravish me on our
bed. Our bed, that's another thing I need to remember. It's our bed now.
Where was I? Oh right. He doesn't take me into the bedroom but into the
kitchen.

"Are we having kitchen sex? If we are, I need to make sure we have plenty
of cleaning solution. I won't allow you to eat where I have sweated and
made a mess" He smiles at me with a fond exasperation.

"Do you ever stop worrying about other people. If we have kitchen sex, then
we have kitchen sex and I would be proud to eat where I brought you
pleasure."

"Yes but..." He gives me a stern look.

"I'm the big dog here and what I say goes, and I say no buts." He squeezes
my ass."Except this one." I'm fairly certain that if I was a woman, I would
slap him and huff indignantly but all I can do is nod and smile because he
makes me so damn happy. He places me on the large island in the middle of
the kitchen and moves to the fridge. "Now then, sweet cakes, let me show
you how a real man provides for his mate." He says this last bit with a
growl and I giggle. Giggle. Like I'm some sort of love-struck middle
schooler and he's the popular kid at school. I'd slap myself if there were
two of me. The big dog gets out eggs, various breakfast meats, cheese, and
vegetables. He gets out a couple of pots and pans and turns on the oven. He
smiles at me as he preps the ingredients. "What do you feel up fo. I was
thinking some lumberjacks if you'll make the flapjacks."

"That sounds delicious, where's the Bisquick?"  He gives me a grin and
moves to find. I get off the island and make my way through the house to
the front door. I didn't need to open it to know who it was. I never do. I
open it still only wearing the button down shirt that is completely opened.

"Good morning." The woman starts "My name is..." I hold up my hand to stop
her.

"Before you start on anything Linda Dudley, let me say no. No, I am not
interested in your reading material. I have already read it and honestly
found it lacking in information and did not make any convincing arguments.
No, I am not interested in talking to you about how I felt about it. No, I
don't care how many people are joining your cult. No, I will not sign up
for anything and No you may not talk to the man of the house. Any other
questions?" I think I managed a smile. The woman, Linda, gives me that deer
in headlights look as she attempts to scramble her thoughts together. I
beat her to it. "Listen, Linda. I get it. You married into the church young
and now you're  going door to door because you have been convinced that
it's necessary that you do because you're husband is running for a position
on the council but let me give you a bit of advice." I motion for her to
come closer and she does. I begin to whisper. "None of this matters. You'll
be much happier if you leave him now before he gets you pregnant." I drop
my voice, wanting to make sure this last part sticks nice and deep in her
mind for a good long while "There's nothing wrong with wanting to be a man
Linda. Use your grandmother's money and make yourself happy for once." With
that, I slam the door, hearing a choked "Thank you" behind me.

I return to the kitchen to find the Bisquick on the island and my Man, he
insists I call him that, frying up bacon and sausage. I should probably be
concerned about him doing that naked but his job is far more dangerous and
there are enough scars on his body that a few more wouldn't bother him.

"Who was at the door?" He asks as he cracks eggs into the cast iron skillet
next to the meat.

"A Mormon or maybe a Jehovah witness, either way, I'm sure I gave her more
to think about than she could have given me." He looks at me with a mildly
pointed stare.

"You didn't do anything permanent did ya?" I shrug.

"Nothing she didn't really want or need already." He accepts this and turns
the burner on low and walks over to me. He pulls me close and kisses me
hard and passionate again as I trying to prove that I'm really there. I
don't struggle or stop him, I've learned that despite how hard I might try,
I can never pull myself away from him and besides, I want to prove this is
real as well.

"I love ya, ya punk," I smile at the old name.

"I love you more, you old mad dog." He snorts and kisses me again.

"Who ya calling old. I ain't even forty yet." He removes one arm from
around me and flexes his bicep, showing off the impressive muscles he's
worked so long and hard for. He doesn't have the body of a body builder.
His is far more impressive. He has the body of a hero. I want to worship
every single inch of muscle on him, to drown in the manliness I will never
have and know that I will always be safe with him. He made me that promise
and I know he'll always keep it to the best of his ability. He lets me go
and moves back to his skillet.

"Now, why don't you be a good boy and make those flap jacks." I smile and
move to get a bowl from a cupboard.

It doesn't take much time and soon I have quite a stack of fresh and fluffy
pancakes for my husband. I look over and see that he has left the skillet
unattended, probably to go put on pants and that the skillet is starting to
turn red. Without thinking, I grab it off the stove and hold it, not
wanting to mar the island top. I suspect that the skillet is too hot to
handle since it had the faintest traces of bright red but I don't notice.
Or maybe it's I can't notice. Either way,  I just stand there with the
skillet waiting for it to cool down enough for me to set it down.

"Fuck!" I hear from the bedroom and I turn to see my Man looking at me
holding the burning hot skillet in my hands. He moves slowly as if not to
frighten me. "I'm sorry babe, I thought I turned the heat off." I shrug.

"It's alright, It's not bad." And It's not. I can't even tell that it's
hot.  With normal people, that probably means there's nerve damage from the
severe burns but when I put the skillet down, my hands are as clean and
white as they usually are. A little red maybe but that will fad. It always
does. The food smells delicious and I move about, looking for plates and
cutlery. Living in a house maybe a new experience for me but I had proper
manners practically beaten into me. I feel my husband behind me as he wraps
his arms around me again. He whispers into my head.

"What'cha doing?"

"Looking for plates, what else?" I laugh at the feeling of his scruff on my
scalp. My hair still hasn't grown back completely and all I have now is
makes me look like I was in the military or something. I wasn't but that
what it looks like.

"I see, well I have something far more interesting." My curiosity is piqued.

"Really, what?" He turns me around and gets on one knee. I laugh. "I think
you might have forgotten but were already married you goof." He smiles and
holds up a small box, too big for a ring but I recognize it almost
instantly. It takes almost everything I have not to start sobbing on the
spot. Still, my eyes are filling with tears. "You kept it?" He nods and
grins and I open the box. Inside is exactly what I thought it was. A
beautiful string of natural pearls. I can't bring myself to touch them. My
Man stands up and with a lot more ease than I thought possible, manages to
get the string around my neck. I look at him. "Why though?"

"Because I owe them a great debt." I look at him confused. He gives me what
passes for a tender smile for him. He's too rough looking for smiling to be
easy and not like like he was planning on killing you but I know what it
is. I smile back still confused. He wraps his arms around me and kisses my
head. "This one string of pearls brought you into my life, Punk, and I'll
always be grateful to them for that. We may have had our ups and downs and
hit rock bottom a few times but here we are and it's all thanks to these
pearls." He kisses me again. I don't know what to say so I remain quiet. I
forget about the plates and grab two forks while my husband grabs a beer
from the fridge for him and milk for me. We start breakfast and it is
wonderful.

Breakfast is just ending when my wonderful and perfect silence is broken by
the faint sound of jazz music. I want to squirm but I look over at my
husband.

"You're being summoned." He swears something I don't understand and angrily
gets up and moves into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. I don't
need to hear him to know what is being said. After all, I've been waiting
for this moment for almost six months. My husband leaves the bedroom a few
minutes later, wearing his uniform. The  black titanium threads of his
shirt and pants cling to him like a second skin and show off his heroic
build beautifully. He isn't wearing his hood, yet, and gives me a pained
smiled.

"You probably know who that was." I nod.

"They found him I'm guessing." He nods, anger smoldering in his eyes. "And
you want me to stay here because he doesn't know about this place." He nods
again. I'm good at this game. The "Let me guess what you're thinking" game.
I'm the world champ. He moves over to me and I feel the intensity of his
mood. His voice has gotten darker, rougher, tougher. It always does when he
has to go to work. His next words sound like a threat but they bring me
unending comfort.

"I'm going end him. No matter what happens today or what the others say, I
won't let him bother you ever again. It's the end game baby and I'm walking
home the champion." His old school, tough guy, Dick Tracy-esque accent is
in full assault mode and I feel lust swelling in my belly. I want him to
take me right there and fuck me like a beast in heat. But that would be
irresponsible, so all I do is give a nod and kiss him as hard and as
lovingly as I can. When we finally break apart, he removes his eyepatch,
puts on is black hood and leaves the house. A deep black energy surrounds
him as he squats, jumps and flies towards wherever he is needed. I watch
him leave, hope and terror battling for dominance in me. I want this to end
but I'm far too scared of my Man getting hurt.

I don't need to see the caller ID on my cell phone to know who is calling.
After all, I'm not the only one who has been waiting for this day. I only
hope that my Man, my husband, my Obsidian Knight will be victorious. Hope
is all I can do because I'm only the Secondary aspect of the Phoenix and I
can't see the future, I can only read minds. I clutch at the pearls as if
they were prayer beads and whisper the words that had been in my head for
almost seven years before last Christmas.
"He has to die. To save us all, the Alchemist has to die."

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