Silas' POV:
I'm not surprised that Atticus and Lincoln live in a beautiful, lavish home, but damn! When Lincoln left to go get the food, I made sure to escape Atticus' line of vision, because it's only a matter of time before he decides to try to murder me for being attracted to his boyfriend.
I explored their home to gain an understanding of my surroundings. Even though I rarely go out, when I do, I like to be aware of everything around me. It not only relieves my stress but it helps me to identify potential escape routes.
There's quite a few guest rooms, a theatre room as opposed to having a television in the living room, and there's a gym and pool in the basement. How the hell can these two afford this place?! Even with their jobs, a swimming pool is expensive as hell!
I wander into the master bedroom, careful to keep my ears open in case Atticus decides to show up and yell at me for being in his room. His and Lincoln's room, actually.
Can't forget they're dating... ugh, I wish Lincoln was single, not a doctor, and was a Mistake. Then we'd be able to be together. Honestly, the same kind of goes for Atticus, because even though I like to be more dominant in bed, he's hot as hell and I'd be down to sleep with him. I guess it's a bit more of a turn off with him being a cop, so that's the reason for my reservation.
Their room has cream walls with a dark grey one behind the bed, and their bed has a canopy. I've always wanted one of those on my bed!
I look around before launching myself onto their king sized bed and laying under the dark canopy that makes me feel a strange wave of comfort. After I've had my fun exploring their room (as well as their walk in closet where I found a disturbing box of sex toys) I explore the master bathroom.
Wow!
Their tub is massive and definitely made for two (possibly even three!) people, and that's separate from their shower, which has two shower heads and there's a speaker on the roof, probably for music. Candles sit all around the tub, making another surge of jealousy course through me. They probably get to have beautiful, sensual baths in the dark, with only candles lighting the room.
I wish I had someone to do that with.
"Don't get used to it," I think to myself as I open a bottle of shampoo and smell it. "They'll send you home as soon as the HBIC of the supernatural bullshit unit leaves your apartment."
There's a few pictures on the nightstand, and they're not standard couple pictures. There's one of the pair of them shirtless, taking a dorky selfie on their bed, and I am so envious of how happy and in love they look. Another picture is clearly one that Atticus wasn't expected, as he has a half smile as he's shoving a forkful of cake in his mouth.
My favorite one is probably the most cliche one, where Lincoln and Atticus are kissing in front of the sunset on the beach. Since Portland isn't that far from the beach, it's easy to assume this picture was taken locally.
They're so cute, and I have no reason to be jealous, but I can't help the feeling.
I want something like this.
No, screw that.
I want this.
Shaking my head, I move away from their dresser and walk out of the room, only to meet Atticus in the hall. I freeze, because he's totally going to kill me for snooping around in his personal space.
"I like to familiarize myself with unknown places, too," he says with a surprisingly kind smile. "No judgement."
"You may not be judging me, but I'm judging the amount of sex toys you have in your closet," I tell Atticus, making him grin widely. "Why are you smiling? Shouldn't you be embarrassed?"
Atticus keeps grinning. "No! Why should I be ashamed of my sex life? Besides, most of the toys I use on Lincoln."
Of course, I start blushing and find myself wishing that I had kept my thoughts to myself.
Is Atticus just a professional at embarrassing me and scaring me?
Because I'm ninety five percent sure he is.
"You almost blushed that much when Lincoln was near you," he says and I have never felt my heart drop so quick.
"I didn't mean to and I swear that I'm not trying to flirt with him! I'll back off, I swear!" I exclaim, backing away from him and preparing to use my powers to protect myself so I can escape.
Atticus seems surprised that I'm so afraid, but he's also a cop.
He's manipulative... I don't trust this guy. He'll act like I did nothing wrong and then stab me.
Lincoln may not be too happy though, since I don't think he wants me dead and he specializes in people like me, so he'd probably save me. And then let Atticus kick me out.
"I'm not upset," Atticus says, taking a step toward me, but I do the exact same so we're the same distance apart. "Why would I bring you into my home if I was worried about you and your interactions with Lincoln?"
"Well, I'm really attractive and single, so you never know," I mutter, making Atticus roll his eyes, but there's a playful edge to him that I have seen, but I thought it was only for Lincoln's sake.
Apparently he's actually playful.
"I will not disagree with you," he says, looking me up and down. "Have you seen the soaking pool?"
I nod, a bit confused by his wording because I saw a lap pool. "Yes, I kind of explored your whole house."
"I was talking about the hot tub outside," Atticus says. "This area is pretty remote, surrounded by trees and such, so we have a hot tub outside that looks over the backyard area."
"How are you affording this?!" I exclaim, unable to keep in the processing question. "Like, I get you make good money, probably even better because you're both specialists and not beginners in your careers, but this place could not have been cheap!"
Atticus nods in agreement with my statement as he guides me down the stairs and out to the backyard where the hot tub is part of the huge patio. "My grandparents were wealthy and owned this place, but when they got old they moved back to California, where my family is originally from. I'm the only child of only children, so since they paid it off they offered the house to me. I always planned on moving, and I love this place, so I'm happy it all worked out."
I am extremely happy it worked out too, because this place is gorgeous, and I find myself wanting to stand out here forever and overlook the grove of trees and the sunlight drifting through the trees.
"You like it?" Atticus asks me, and I nod. "Wait, could you knock over a tree if you wanted?"
"Probably," I say, knowing I'm completely capable but I would really rather not do that. "I'd rather not use my... issue."
Atticus frowns, hopping up on the ledge of the guard rail. "You see it as an issue?"
"It's called a malfunction," I deadpan. "And most people call us 'Mistakes.' So, yes, I do consider it an issue. If there was a cure, believe me when I say I'd take it in seconds without hesitation."
"I don't think you're a mistake," Atticus says, his eyes staring straight into my soul. "And it's wrong that people are so prejudice, so I'm sorry for that, because it comes from some people in my profession."
I just shrug. "Not your fault," I reassure him, because he actually looks really upset. "I'm glad I found the only two people in the city that aren't prejudice and have professions that usually would hate people like me. And I never really thanked you for saving my life even though you could've made your life easier and turned the other way."
"I wouldn't have given you my number if I didn't want to help you," Atticus assures me, hopping off the edge of the guard rail and leading me back inside the house. "And feel free to stay here as long as you need. I think Lincoln would appreciate the company on his day off... as would I."
Soon enough, Lincoln returns to the house and puts the bag of food we ordered on the counter. He sets up the table, rejecting the help I offer, and Atticus assures me that Lincoln likes to set up the table on his own or else it won't look right and it'll bother him.
We sit down at the table when it's set up to Lincoln's liking and I watch as Lincoln serves me a trilogy of pasta, insisting that it's more fun to eat everything family style so I can decided what I like because I've never been to the pasta place that he chose. He makes sure not to give me too much shrimp though, because I can tell it's his favorite part.
"I have a weird question," Lincoln says about halfway through our meal, wiping some of the stray sauce off of his face.
I make eye contact with him, showing my attentiveness.
"Okay, so those coin games at the arcade... could you use your powers to knock the coins down? Like, through the glass?" he asks, and I feel my eyebrows furrow in confusion.
"What coin game?" I ask, taking a sip of the cranberry juice that I'd been given. "I've never been to an arcade."
Lincoln gapes at me. "What?!"
"In case you didn't notice, I have terrifying abilities that kind of stick me on the outskirts of society." I shrug and twirl some noodles with my fork. "Show me a picture and I might be able to let you know."
Atticus and Lincoln both share a look and I can tell it's pity.
Well, I don't want their pity. I've survived for twenty two years without anyone but my parents, and even then they didn't pay me much mind. They loved me, but I was kept at home and took online classes because my dad was a lawyer and somehow having a Mistake as a child took away credibility.
They were as happy as I was when I moved, and I'm thankful for them paying for my necessities, but I know it's because they want me away from home.
"Can you wipe the pity off of your faces?" I ask as they watch me eat. "It's ruining my appetite."
Lincoln goes back to his food, but Atticus keeps watching me.
"I'm sorry for the world being a pain in the ass," Atticus says, sipping his own glass of juice. "Do you have a job, by the way? I didn't see a car, so I can drive you-"
"No, I don't have a job," I mutter bitterly, but it's not directed at either of the men with me. "No one hires people like me."
Lincoln narrows his eyes, and I can see him trying to figure me out. "How are you paying for an apartment?"
I briefly tell him about my father's job and how he's basically been paying for me to stay away from home so I don't damage his perfect reputation back in my hometown. I'm pretty sure Atticus learned most of this from my file, so he doesn't react when I tell my story.
However, Lincoln is angry by the end of my tale. "I would be proud to have a child with Mistacesemia," he mutters. "Your parents may be paying for everything, but they sound like they suck."
"It is what it is," I respond, because I can't change the past or my parent's opinions on me. "Can we just not talk about this?"
Lincoln huffs, but falls silent.
We, well, Lincoln, cleans up from dinner, passing very small talk while he cleans up. The only reason I stay with them is due to my appreciation and because I'd hate to steal their food and then vanish.
"I have work tomorrow, so I'm going to sleep early," Atticus informs us.
Lincoln puts the last plate in the dishwasher and follows Atticus. "It's been a long day for me too, so I'll go to sleep too," he says, but from the look in his eyes, I can tell they're definitely not going to sleep right away.
"Goodnight," I say, walking toward the room they're graciously letting me borrow, but I don't get much sleep because I am close to their room and can hear them having sex.
I should be jealous and annoyed, but it's basically verbal porn and it's sooo hot, so I end up jerking myself off to the sounds of their moans.
I'm so fucked up.
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