Chapter 1:8 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.

Only the twelve are aware of our position with the Senate. That the reason we have the power and influence we do, is due to the fact we make sure that the people are taken care of, unlike the royals that started this mess.

Jorge is new, and entirely unaware that his actions will get us blown off the map. Thus far our portion of the experiment has been successful.

I can’t say it’s easy.

There is a constant struggle in keeping up and doling out responsibilities in a city of nine million. Still, it feels like I was groomed, prepared, and chosen before I was an itch in my father’s pants.

Frederico Morretti was the first ‘sanctioned’ boss. He was also a key player in creating jobs, bringing in money, and using immigrants to fill the void the Division Wars left in their wake.

Of the six founding families, only Morrettis, Gaines, and Torelli are left. The real people responsible for the city’s success. No matter the deficit.

It’s our effort that keeps the fat cats in their towers, peasant jobs with the lower class, and ensures that money keeps flowing in.

Even so, if another one of Mythander’s precious court drops dead, and we’re done for. Our arrangement with the Senate is clear. Keep the people happy and avoid the press.

No publicity. No real credit.

Just the benefits that come with a job well done. Or the consequences of being wiped out if we get too out of hand. IE, gain too much power, or cause the same devastation other outfits are known for across the globe.

A thin line with more and more oblivious ‘tourists’ weaseling their way in for a slice of our paradise.

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, 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 I 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.

More, 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.

A minimum of twenty years of clean service may be a prerequisite for Lark Security. You’d still never guess it with the buzzing dark haired, almost teen making his way in the door. Overflowing hands, not to mention him 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.

Bestiality and pseudo bestially of pet play being among them.

“Mornin’ Sarge,” unlike most, I guess Grimm is used to Rourke’s size. Smiling rather than cowering at the giant that most men piss their pants at.

Those almond eyes of Grimm’s in as much shape as coloring twitch everywhere else entirely unintimidated. More worried about whatever he seems to have forgotten, than Rourke’s glare.

I seriously 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 of them reach the breakfast bar I’m sitting at.

Worse the kid is lifting his leg to grab something out of his side pocket with his teeth; rather than relinquish the crap in his hands.

A jumping bean hits my stomach as Rourke lifts his gnarled neck in a plea for patience before grabbing the large paper bag Grimm has tucked under his arm.

I hide my smile behind my plain white mug while Rourke dumps about a dozen sandwiches on the counter in front of us. Doing away with one of the numerous items that has Grimm’s attention rather than Daddy.

I may lean towards women as a rule, but damn sure know when a guy is attractive. There really isn’t a submissive bone in my body, so I leave the dick sucking to my twin.

I’ve still screwed enough men to know that Rourke’s new puppy would be an experience I wouldn’t soon forget.

Fuck me.

I’m worse off than I thought, if last night wasn’t enough to tide me over for a few days. Maybe it’s the look that Rourke’s giving him.

Unlike me, Rourke eliminates people based on gender. Still, between the constant praises, and the look that Rourke generally reserves for subs, I can’t help but wonder......

With Rourke taking the small black pouch out of Grimm’s mouth, and putting it on the table with the rest, the puppy offers a grin and absently thanks him.

Even with one hand free, Grimm finds another way to occupy his long fingers. Sorting through the gadgets he’s laying on the counter with the sandwiches.

The look Rourke gives the kid, would terrify most anyone but me, when Daddy fails to get the Puppy’s attention. Clearly, neither Rourke’s gargantuan size nor his somewhat gnarled appearance seem to phase Grimm like they do most.

If he were a female, there’s no doubt in my mind Grimm would be bent over the counter taking five swats to the ass for not giving Daddy his undivided attention.

The tech whiz has all the traits Rourke and I lean to.

An adorable, sexy mix that requires a bit of guidance.

The last sub he brought me for consideration, I dismissed. The woman we destroyed last night moaning from the loft bed was my choice, rather than his.

I don’t discard Rourke’s preferences, but definitely choose people that neither of us will get attached to, given how our first trio turned out.

The only relationship in sixteen years I didn’t put limits on, and the one that fucked with my partner the most.

Woman damn near ended our duo before it began, and I’ll never let anyone, man woman or ‘Saint’ get between us again.