The Muse's Undoing

“They also said I was low risk. Because of the PrEP, and it’s harder to get from oral and everything.”

“Let’s find you a rapid test. Just to put your mind at ease.”

“This is a big deal for you, huh?” I ask.

“I don’t want fucking me to stress you out or make you have to think too hard.”

I roll my eyes. “Rude.”

“Fine.” He rolls to his side and moves closer, slinging an arm across my chest. With his face close to mine he says in a low voice, “I want you to fill me up. Is that what you wanna hear? I want you to fucking breed me. If I have to commute to work from the Bronx, I should at least get to leak your cum on the way to work.”

“You want to be able to walk today, princess?” I ask, turning his gaze to my newly twitching cock.

He slides his hand down and grabs hold of it. “I can barely walk on a good day.”

44

FISCHER

Matthew still hasn’t quit his job, and I’m starting to wonder if I need to sit him down and have a face to face conversation with him about it instead of the half-asleep murmurings when I most often bring it up. But it’s been over a week, and spending his overnight shifts in the loft alone and then waiting around for him in the morning to take two trains home is getting old. Not to mention—he hasn’t touched his art as far as I can tell. There aren’t even any doodles on my legal pads. Nothing.

I’ve considered just going where he goes. If he’s working, I could easily stay at my apartment, meet him in the middle of the night for a kiss or whatever he has time for, but the idea of my own apartment depresses me if Vaughn’s not in it. Everything here in the Bronx is more comfortable. The bed, the couch, even the shower is better. I’m more productive whether Matthew’s here or not, and I’m not sure if that’s because I’m basically surrounded by his personality, or if this loft inspires me the way it’s done for him. I stare at the tree a lot.

Every day I find a new word twisted through it. Today’s word is “hook.” I noticed it in the trunk when I was sipping my coffee. It takes some will power not to snoop through his sketchbooks, but I get the feeling there may be things in those I may not want to see, and so far I’ve managed to respect his privacy.

After a shower, I’m pulling on some sweats when there’s a knock on the door. I check my watch. Matthew is due any minute, but it’s his place, and the door was locked when I got home last night, meaning he has his keys. I pull on a shirt and grab my cane to make my way over and peek to see who it is.

Fuck. Maggie.

It wouldn’t surprise me if Matthew forgot to tell me whether he’s told her about us yet, but still…odds are, he would’ve mentioned it, and I can accurately account for almost all his time. I’m an intense stalker when it comes to him.

I don’t answer right away, unsure what to do. But then, when I don’t open the door, Maggie simply walks to the other side of the hall, pulls her phone out of her bag, and sits down on the floor to wait.

I call Matthew.

“I’m five minutes away,” is how he answers the phone.

“Your sister’s here.”

“She’s your sister, too, bro.”

I roll my eyes. “What does she want?”

“She didn’t say? Where are you calling from?”

“The loft. She’s waiting outside.”

“You didn’t let her in?”

“Matthew!” I whisper shout. “Does she know about us?”

“I’ve been trying to sit down with her, but she’s been swamped.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Let her in. I’ll be right there.”

“What do I tell her?”