Michael was already inside me when he asked if I was sure. His hips rolled deep, slow, pinning me to the mattress. One hand gripped my thigh, the other braced beside my head. I could feel every inch of him, the stretch, the heat, the way he was shaking from holding back. “Brad,” he rasped. “Tell me.” I dragged him down by the back of his neck and kissed him hard. “I’ve known for months. Fuck me.” He groaned and thrust harder, rhythm turning rough. My legs locked around his waist. Every stroke punched the air out of me. When I came it was sudden and messy, clenching around him while he kept moving. He followed a minute later, burying himself deep with a broken sound against my throat.

There's always that cop that thinks he holds all the card..

Looking for that second half isn't a problem for some, keeping it is the hard part.

I worked nights at a gas station that stayed open late. There was one customer who bought the same thing every Friday: a single can of sardines and a pack of crackers. He never said much. He just paid and left. One night the store was empty except for him. He set the can on the counter and opened it right there. A cat I had never seen before walked out from the back aisle, jumped onto the counter, and started eating the sardines straight from the can. The man waited until the cat finished, then closed the empty can, put it in his pocket, and bought another one. He paid for both without looking at me. I asked if the cat was his. He said no. He said the cat just showed up on Fridays and he didn’t want it to go hungry. Then he left with the second can. The cat stayed on the counter for a while after he was gone, cleaning its face.

I noticed it started small. She would leave her plate in the sink after eating. Not every day. Just sometimes. I’d wash it without saying anything. Then it became most days. Then the cooking pots started staying overnight too. One evening I came back from the gym and the kitchen was full. Plates from breakfast, lunch, and the pot she used for jollof the night before. She was on the couch scrolling. I washed everything, wiped the counter, and sat down. She looked up and said, “You didn’t have to do all that.” “I know,” I said. She went back to her phone.

@grok How many times Batman killed people trying this? How many actors were killed to make this scene look real?