The Puppy and the Giant
The Puppy and the Giant
By Vince
There’s nothing I wouldn’t give him if he just asked.
But this situation…..
It’s out of my hands. Rourke knows that me marrying Elena is the best chance we have at nipping this shit in the bud.
It doesn’t make it any easier, and I’m not sure which is worse. The man who’s suffering in silence or the one that won’t shut up about it, saying that the son I didn’t know I had until three weeks back needs a mom, Elena’s not it.
I’ve always been upfront about marriage being inevitable. Since Rourke served, he’s got immunity from the expectations of nobles and royalty.
The elite status we were born with, defined by our increased markers of the E gene that says we have more elf than human in us.
Haven being the most scientifically advanced of the five realms on the protected Lumerian continent. Bringing back the all but extinct Fey bloodlines has always been the mission of Lumen’s King Eldon, the founder of our realm.
While there are five monarchies in Lumeria, they were all founded by the King amidst the Division Wars before he stepped down.
Still, the advancements of genetics and medicine with the most brilliant minds of that field is another reason that Haven is referred to as ‘the great experiment’.
It’s this premise that had our Monarch, Mythander Arinbas passing the law that states every noble has to be married to an equal or higher born Elvan, elf human hybrid, by age one hundred.
There is also the added tidbit that within twenty years of our initial marriage, we are supposed to have a minimum of three spouses and a child with each to keep the bloodlines strong and varied.
Should we fail to comply, the genetic material all Elvans are required to give on reaching maturity is used to create children via surrogate for elites to adopt.
That is the main or socially accepted reason Haven is referred to as the ‘great experiment’, but the testing ground that is my home is not limited to health and medicine.
Haven is also a sounding board for politics.
To see what works and how people respond. Thus far, we’ve been successful in keeping the fat cats rich, and the commoners happy. It’s not just a title or legacy I lose if I fail to keep our metropolis flourishing. Again, why the Elena situation is so important.
Only the twelve are aware of our position with the Senate. That the reason we have the power and influence we do, is because Eldon, the original king, failed in keeping every soul safe, fed, and happy. The whole many against one argument my grandfather pitched.
The Division Wars were inevitable.
Hell, even I struggle keeping up and dole out responsibilities in a city of nine million, and that’s just one of six in Haven alone. Our metropolis existed before it was labeled as a separate entity from Lumens, and given its own monarchy.
My father, rather than grandfather, was in charge when the Senate came to him, to keep power in the vastly declining and chaotic streets.
I hadn’t been a twinkle in my old man’s eye, let alone born at the time, but the few who remain from that time can attest to how bad it really got.
Frederico Morretti, being a key player with the other six, in creating jobs, bringing in money, as well as immigrants to fill the void that the mass slaughter of soldiers and civilians alike created.
We have gained a great level of respect, considering we’re one of the few who thrived in the upset, but know that can be taken at any time for any reason if the Senate is unhappy with the results we give them.
Natural instinct for most would be to marry our partners and friends. Problem with me signing a paper rather than just verbally committing to Rourke as a life mate is that there are too many eggs in one basket.
Too much power and influence that would make the Senate and or Court to see us as a viable threat to their reign.
A knock on the door breaks the uncomfortable silence Rourke and I rarely share. Sure, we never talk before we’re ready and are generally chewing on the plans we have for the day in our minds over coffee, but still....
After a night like the one we had with the woman bowing, begging, and creaming between us, it’s never been this tense.
Rourke leaves the skillet he’s been fussing over to open the door for the tech genius that started at his firm a few months back.
I’ve never met Grimm first hand, but have heard Rourke sing the kid’s praises for the impossible shit he comes up with. I know in AF terms, puppy means a newbie or innocent who hasn’t grown their teeth yet.
Everyone who works at Lark Security is retired special forces. What our military calls Reapers. A title can’t see one trace of in the smooth-faced, man bun sporting nerd.
Grimm is dressed in the same general ensemble as most of Rourke’s guys. Cargos, a tee shirt, and boots that aren’t even laced, but the taller kid legit looking over his shoulder and spinning to find his misplaced tail in the shape of his over the shoulder bag.....
No wonder why Rourke calls him a puppy.
Those huge brown eyes and overly excitable personality don’t match any other one of the hard asses Rourke typically employs.
Even if I know that a minimum of twenty years of clean service is a prerequisite, you’d never guess it with the buzzing dark haired, almost teen making his way in with full hands and practically tripping over his own feet.
The designation Rourke and I give pets is very much based on personality rather than interest in bestiality or fuzzy type role play. Over the years our tastes have more or less melded in the same way our hell no lists synched when we started.
“Mornin’ Sarge,” unlike most, I guess Grimm is used to Rourke’s size, smiling rather than cowering at the enforcer that most men piss their pants at.
Those almond eyes of Grimm’s inasmuch shape as coloring twitch everywhere else entirely unintimidated. More worried about whatever he seems to have forgotten, and I really can’t get the image of a happy but clumsy golden retriever out of my head.
Grimm’s hair is dark, but he’s got honey toned skin, expressive brown eyes, and a somewhat lanky figure. In true puppy fashion, the tech nerd is chasing his proverbial tail again when the pair reach the breakfast bar I’m sitting at.
With a widening of his semi-slanted eyes and an “Aha” from his round but full lips, I see the Asian influence in his features.
Lifting his leg to grab something out of the dozens of pockets on his pants with his teeth, rather than relinquish the crap in his hands. Grimm’s search for whatever he’d lost has ended, and jumping bean hits my stomach at the time Rourke lifts his gnarled neck in a plea for patience.
I hide my smile behind my plain white mug while Rourke takes the large brown sack out of one of Grimm’s hands. Dumping about a dozen sandwiches on the counter in front of us.
With the small black pouch still in his mouth, the puppy tries and fails to thank him, and Rourke retrieves it. Putting it on the counter with the rest of what he can grab out of Grimm’s hands.
Even with one hand free, Grimm finds another way to occupy his long fingers with one of the dozen other things he’s brought with him. It takes Rourke removing the ‘ball’ out of his mouth, with a look that would terrify most anyone but me, to get the kid’s attention.
Neither Rourke’s gargantuan size nor his somewhat gnarled appearance seem to phase Grimm. Too bad he’s not a female. While I don’t completely rule a person out based on gender, Rourke does. Well, he did before Grimm, and I instantly get the appeal.
There is a cute, sexy mix in his cluelessness.
Rourke likes innocent little things that need guidance, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Grimm went bright red with the woman the pair of us destroyed moaning from the loft bed.