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Bed squeaking, at least, ain't a part of the logistics Apollo and me go through some nights. Even though we sleep upstairs and Aunt Doreen and Uncle Joshua are downstairs, our bedroom's just over the laundry room. It's little miracles we'd all be thankful for if only everybody involved knew.

So my sounds are all Apollo keeps watch over.

All the lights are off, just the moon giving itself through the window, and all I taste are Apollo's lips over my mouth, hushing me tight, keeping all of me locked inside as he thumps me back and forth.

Shorter cuffs stow my wrists up by the headboard, out of reach from him. I don't need to offer myself because he can already take as he pleases. Every reward he likes for every wrong suffered is presented cleanly before him now. Nothing from me is hidden from him. I'm on my back, caged, laid out for him tonight.

He's a cannon inside of me, and I just want to—I need to let that out, but he won't let me. He kisses and laps up the moans, seals me up, doesn't let me escape. His lips bob over mine every time he pumps, but he keeps me tight.

His tongue twists mine into knots. Tangles my thoughts. Fills my mind. His body's all over mine and it's all I want to feel touching me.

And I do.

I want to tell him over and over and over and over the feelings he's pushing into me.

My slightest moan slips out from his lock, and Apollo takes his paws around my face, looks me in the eye, and closes me tighter. My cheeks are full of how he plays with me.

The bed rocks with his force upon me, but we pulled it away from the wall. All I hear past my lungs echoing in my chest is the wet slicking of my body taking in his, the soft slapping of him reaching farther in me.

Then he pulls away and my breath is released. I breathe his name through every gasp he gives me back, heavy and new, and he saddles lower over me. Both his paws clasp back over my mouth and silence me again. He adjusts himself and lays into me—

—much—faster.

Apollo doesn't look at me for this. He lays his head against my hair and grips my face closer and just lets my heaving self steady him against his railing.

Dear God, have I ever told you about how thick Quilava cock gets? Have you felt this?

Feels like the molten iron core inside me again and again and again. I never knew Apollo got this rough.

Very rough. Rougher than I—felt like he's got in there before—

Feels like he's knocking inside me for the right spot, that tremble I know he can send running all over my spine, swelling until there's no place he hasn't still—

Oh God there it is he found it—!

Oh, God, he found it. He found it and fucked it into me.

Please God just let me tell him I want him to hear how wet he's flushed me please let me tell him.

I gasp everything underneath him, but Apollo just keeps plowing his fields.

My wrists give up their tug o'war against the headboard. He's got me all to his own power. Only my weakest new moans can struggle against his grip. They're my sole resistance, and he won't let go of that, either. He's got me.

Whatever he wants, I want him to have it. Every part of me. Every inch he can reach.

And God, he does.

One last thrust sends that hot arch down his back, throwing his weight upon me all over again, spreading me to my fullest and spilling his warm seed in a depth that'd make anyone who knew cry.

It's a moment of silence but for Apollo's huffing beside me, holding me tight, gathering himself together again. My wet skin splays beneath his fur and our lungs heave together, but he holds me down until it's just him collected.

His paws slide off my lips as he pushes himself upright, leaving me gasping still, staring up to him for if he'll only look back to me. But he stands up and just glances, sees me just a second eye to eye, before he moves forward and presses only his wet dick over my mouth.

Clean up your mess, he signs in command. Then I'll release you.

And I am commanded good and ready to lavish upon him.

This is that moment echoing all over my mind that feels like we'll make it last forever.

The taste is already on my tongue just how good a morning it is before the words ever come to mind. Every step down the stairs is me savoring it proper another second, Apollo tagging at my heels all the way down with the same spring in his paws this early.

Uncle Joshua's already huddled in at the dining room table waking up to the fumes of his first coffee, eyes clamped shut while he gets some homegrown magic worked in him. Aunt Doreen's just rummaging out her protein bars from the cabinet past him, awake, but getting older every day despite herself.

“The hell you peppy for already…" Uncle Joshua hisses over the rim of his cup, holding that thing right up under his nose. “You disgust me..."

It's a filthy fuckin' lie if you ever heard country folk are all morning people. I didn't used to be, either, but we all do what we got to.

“Morning to you, too, grumpy bear. Morning, Auntie Doreen."

“Harley," Aunt Doreen says, looking to me as she fiddles her bar's plastic open. “Tammy called last night just after you went to bed. Said that trainer got in yesterday, and should be coming sometime this morning. You just point them the right way if you see them before either of us do."

“Yeah, message received," I tell her. Apollo thumps down beside me at the bottom of the stairs while I take my work boots by the laces, and I say, “It's some city fella or another coming, right? Prolly have to point out which one's the barn and which one's the house to him."

Apollo's the first to smile at that one, but Aunt Doreen just takes a bite and chuckles, “Never thought you'd be the one making jokes like that. But you just be polite as long as they are, you hear?"

“Long as they are," I reiterate to her. “One bumpkin joke and I'm kicking his ass 'fore Clover gets the chance. I'm the only one gets to make the jokes—home turf advantage."

Been a couple days now since we been keeping Clover in our barn. That girl been all right. Ain't got much to say to anybody so far, but Aunt Doreen's been taking her out for some nice long walks and nothing's spoiled the mood on either end yet.

Apollo and me push up at the same time, kind of ready to get the hell out of here and say hi to some bessies still lounging outside. Rounding them up is the job we enjoy just fine by ourselves. Just the bunch of us folks who already know each other, basically.

Aunt Doreen waves her bar at me as I grip the doorknob, saying lastly, “You need one?"

I shake my head through a smile she don't know nothing about, pulling the door open for Apollo to go first.

“Trust me," I tell her, “I'm good."

“A mullet," I tell Apollo. “That's what I'm betting he got. Thinks we'll still be impressed with that up here."

Apollo sprawls beside me against the front of the barn, legs kicked up by my ankles, munching one of them long strands of grass growing from the backside of the barn like he's waiting to get milked himself. He waves his paws around each other and lifts one clean over his noggin, signing a little lazy to me, He's probably shaved his whole head. Just a big patch of stubble everywhere, and he thinks it makes him look like an action star.

I tug apart a blade of grass from my other side, looking back to the road. “Shit, that is a good bet."

Apollo sits on the other side from our house, my body obscuring his signing from anybody might look out here at us. Only folks can see us both at the same time would be from the road, exactly where we're keeping an eye on for that visitor we're discussing so polite.

It's a good day for imaginary people watching. Milking's done, bessies are out and about, and the sun's shining just right. I swear we got only one cloud up there that's just covering our eyes for us, being a pal.

Apollo bumps his foot against my jeans, nodding to his right and signing, Why aren't we waiting in there?

Only one of the barn doors is open beside us.

I hush my tone just a bit, saying, “We don't know her."

Apollo signs, It's not like she has any other friends.

I just shrug for anything to say to that. I don't know, so all I tell him is nothing.

Apollo just nudges me, forcing a grin as he tells me, You're still a solitary city girl at heart.

He gets a smile back from me anyway, and I nudge him the same.

“Don't make fun of me," I tell him. “Wait 'til tonight for that."

I lean over nice and slow to him, pressing my lips to his, and it's a sweet sound he gets from mine for just the two of us.

But rather than somebody busting out the house screaming fire and brimstone at us, it's the fresh roar of an engine down the road that peels us apart quick as we can move. Apollo spits out his grass and I straighten weirdly flat against the barn, the both of us breathing quick real sudden now.

All I think to add to that is muttering, “Every fuckin' time…"

It's still another minute before an orange and yellow hog comes riding into view even louder, rolling slower just a second past our mailbox before it turns onto our property. Somebody big, I can tell from here, suited up in full leather and some black helmet, is who must be our stranger riding it. He's got hardly any baggage riding with him—just a couple saddlebags secured over the tail end and a fat kind of beige satchel wrapped tight over his shoulder.

Nobody else is coming out the house to say hello officially, so I shove up with Apollo and we make our way over as the newcomer tugs his bike to a stop behind our truck.

“Welcome to the country," I call first. “You must be that trainer I heard so little about. My name's Harley."

Only as the rider stretches one leg high off his seat do I notice something of more substance on his chest than I supposed, and I realize my mistake in full as—she, actually, slips her helmet off a scalp of the pinkest undercut I ever seen come out a bottle, like, a whole slick wave revealed all at once.

“Hello there," she says slow, sighing it out with a full breath and sweaty brow. “Oh, shit. It's crazy out here. I'm Rosalie. Are you one of the Hendersons or the O'Pines?"

“Uh, close enough to the second," I say, offering my hand. “I'm Doreen O'Pine's niece. She's just inside."

Rosalie turns back to her bike a quick second as she unzips her metal-plated jacket and slides that off from under her satchel, showing in turn another full jacket of colored ink hiding on her skin underneath.

She's not big, turns out. She's built. I swear the six inches she already had over me just turned to seven.

Looking back to me after she's able to breath again, she takes my hand in a grip tighter than I expected out of a smile as big as she's got, too, and offers, “It's good to meet you, Harley. Who's your friend?"

I take another look beside me before I can answer, seeing Apollo again, him staring all the way up at her same as me.

“This is Apollo," I get out, pulling my hand back as she releases it. “Yeah, he's, uh—mine."

There's an inked lady my own size on Rosalie's forearm I can see plain now, naked but for her miniature private bits wrapped around by a Steelix that's fixed winking back at me.

“I'm impressed already," Rosalie says, flapping the soaked collar of her tee, still smiling. “You really aren't hot? Shit, I wasn't built for this kind of heat. It's making me sweat more just seeing someone who can stay comfortable out here."

She's got the best cheekbones I ever seen in a human being. How does she even get all that?

“Oh, it ain't that bad out yet," I tell her. “Trust me, it gets way worse than this. We still got some cloud cover, at least."

Rosalie chuckles, “Don't tell me that. I've still got to work out here. But could you introduce me to your aunt next, Harley?"

I extend my arm toward the house and smile something back. “After you."

Even as she goes ahead of me I expect every step from Rosalie's motorcycle boots to be crunching the dirt beneath her, but she walks near as quiet as I can, and with a little sway in her hips telling you it's more than muscle she works on.

Apollo bumps my skinny hip with his paw, signing up at me in private without that earlier grin, Be polite.

I'm the most fucking polite, I sign back down to him.

The screen door creaks open real quick to the stopping of my careless heart, but I feel my sins forgiven again as soon as Aunt Doreen calls, “Well, hello! Welcome, welcome. My name is Doreen. Glad you made it safe."

“I'm Rosalie," our visitor says just as sweet, shaking hands with my aunt over the porch. “Nice to meet you."

Aunt Doreen's brought out her cowgirl hat, but it's only tucked under her arm as she lets the door close behind her. She says, “Very nice to meet you, Rosalie. I understand you're here on the job, so we won't keep you waiting—Clover's right in our barn, just this way."

Rosalie only glances toward the few Miltanks still grazing nearby on our walk past them, me and Apollo still watching her from the rear. Apollo looks at all the rest of Rosalie's tattoos, some in languages probably neither of us ever seen, but I'm mostly hoping she don't catch me still just looking at her hair, tapered all neat down the sides like the young and unlikeable characters in Uncle Joshua's 'crime drama' got.

Never really thought somebody could make that work as something so real and shiny.

Aunt Doreen pulls open the second door to our barn and leads Rosalie to the back, finding Clover keeping quiet in the last stall, same as she was this morning beside the bessies.

“Here she is," Aunt Doreen says, stepping out the way for Rosalie to take a look. “Fed her just two hours ago now, and she's had some exercise. However you want to handle her past that, I leave it to your discretion."

“Hey, lady," Rosalie says, steadying her satchel as she leans in closer. “Your name's Clover, right? My name's Rosalie. It's nice to finally meet you. I'd shake your hoof if you offered it."

Clover don't really respond to any of that. She prefers going unnoticed, from what I seen. Attention don't suit her—not from me, not from Apollo, either.

Aunt Doreen folds one arm under the other, clutching her hat, and says, “Well, we'll leave you to your work. I'll call Tammy back to let her know that you got here all right and that you're getting started now."

“Thank you, Doreen," Rosalie says back to her. “Is there anywhere you'd mind me bringing her outside to?"

“Other side of the house is most convenient," Aunt Doreen says. “Our bessies don't often wander over there, so you shouldn't get bothered much."

Rosalie squats her brow just a second. “Bessies? Oh. Oh, I got you. That'll work great, then, thank you."

I step out the way for Aunt Doreen to head back first, then do not follow her out. My feet kind of stick around.

“How long you been in this line of work?" I say to Rosalie, tucking one boot behind the other.

“Oh, a while now, I guess," Rosalie says, clutching Clover's reins and pulling her stall door open. She leads the girl out and says, “Professionally, seven years now? I don't really keep good track."

Apollo scoots with me as we back ourselves out of Rosalie's way, following ahead of her out from the barn as I ask, “And you trained any Ponytas in all that yet?"

“One," Rosalie tells me, looking mostly at Clover as the girl trots real careful behind. “And he was delightful, to put it—fabulously? I had a good time with him. He was shy, too, like Clover, from what I've gathered about her."

Christ Almighty, you never seen how small Ponytas can look until you put them up beside someone so tall. Sunlight grows this lady another inch already as she steps outside.

“I learned a lot from that experience," she says. “Going to do better this time from it."

I toss my hair back real quick while Rosalie's strolling Clover past Apollo and me's sitting spot, just fixing it into a ponytail again. Couple strands of my bangs I miss, but those I just tuck over my ear.

“Always the goal, right?"

Rosalie smiles at me to that one. She says, “It is. People can get better or worse in this business the longer they go, and I've seen both."

“You don't mind if we watch, do you?" I ask her, leaning down to scratch—

Oh. Apollo's on my other side.

He don't look back up at me as I scratch him proper this time, but Rosalie answers, “You're welcome to, but it won't be very exciting today. Training isn't usually as flashy as movies like to show it."

“That's just fine," I say, tucking my hand back behind the other. “We got time to kill 'fore rounding up the, uh, Miltanks for afternoon milking. Long as we're not getting in your way."

Rosalie nods back toward me in some distinctly over-the-shoulder smile now.

“You won't be."

Apollo and me find that's the truth. We get us a nice spot on the fence beside the house that's only good for sitting, and Rosalie's got herself set up in the middle of the yard now to do her training with Clover, and they're getting to it right off the bat.

And by training, I mean Rosalie sitting on her ass the same as us while she watches Clover munch big patches of grass clean all around her.

So we sit at a distance from them both, very impressed at this sight. Rosalie's got her back to us and she ain't moved this whole time, and you better understand Apollo and me are quite impressed at all we now witness.

Or we would be if Apollo told me anything more than the mellow frown he's been nursing since we sat down.

“Best training I ever seen," I mutter to him, balancing myself beside the fencepost he's propped up against at a slouch.

The response I get to that is a shrug.

I slide myself off the top of the fence and lean against the rails right beside Apollo, settling myself into the dandelions and grass he lounges in.

“Y'know, we're goin' have more of the place to ourselves again by your birthday," I tell him, keeping quiet enough. “I'm thinkin' spending that night out here might be real nice. Still thinkin' how we might get it to ourselves, but I'm working on that."

Apollo holds his chin up and looks at the sky a second. Without much of a difference in his face, he signs, That would be nice.

“That's just my side of your present," I say. “You still get to pick what you want."

Apollo don't offer what that might be yet, and he don't offer anything else right now.

But Aunt Doreen and Uncle Joshua are in the house. Rosalie might actually be asleep. Clover's munching the other direction from us.

So I brush Apollo's cheek with my fingers and tilt the both of us into a daylight kiss again.

And nobody busts out the house. Nobody comes down the road. Nobody turns around at just the wrong time. Apollo widens his eyes, takes my touch the same, and we share only the right time between the two of us.

We say it a lot to each other, but this is the only time we can say I love you together.

Not messy, not deep. We just hold the warmth between us as long as we can tend it.

Apollo slips his paw beside my hand. It lingers. I pull his touch closer. Loose strands of my hair slide back down my cheek, and the both of us brush them out our way. We don't have to stop, so we just keep going. It never seemed so simple as this before.

His paws slip away again and reach to my hips, moving quicker, tucking under my shirt, leaning into me—lifting the cotton free from my skin.

I open my eyes and pull away, tugging my shirt back down, hair slipping the same.

“We can't do that here," I whisper.

Apollo pauses, his breaths rougher now, too. He stares me down and his eyes are beautiful, but all I see is something he's holding back in them.

And just in case we needed something else going on, now's the time we hear someone scuffing down the road closer to us. Neither of our hearts jump out our chests this time, but Apollo holds my hand and keeps looking me in the eye despite our sudden time limit.

“It's dangerous…" I mutter.

Apollo just looks forward again, looking over at Rosalie and Clover. He just nods to me without looking back.

“G'morning, Harley!"

You know who that is.

I move my hand to scratching behind Apollo's ear as I turn toward Lewis, strolling on over to us with some camera strapped around his neck.

“I suppose you've been wondering where I was while you're here with Clover," he says, grinning like a moron soon as I'm actually looking at him.

“I assumed at home," I tell him.

“That's exactly the case," Lewis says, patting his camera. “I was waiting on this thing's express delivery. I've got some digital preservation to do before Ronnie's big day."

The grin plastered all over him ain't fake like any I'm familiar with. He came in full spirits, for better or worse.

He makes it to our fence and swings around, popping the lens cap off his new toy and stuffing that in his pocket before he starts fiddling with the controls and knobs. It's just another second before he looks up, points to Rosalie, and says to me, “Is she asleep?"

“She's training," I say, shrugging wide. “You should go introduce yourself."

“Oh, no, not yet," Lewis says a little quick. “I'll do that after she's done. When did she, uh, start?"

“I don't remember when," I say.

Lewis nods to that, not fiddling with his camera anymore. He takes a glance down at the empty fence space beside me and just says, “You mind?"

And I shake my head to that. Lewis hops his ass over the wood and settles his boots underneath himself, grunting, “Much appreciated."

We all spy Rosalie barely nudging out in the yard at the same time, reaching her hand up to Clover as she gets close enough, patting the girl's neck just below her flames.

“Oh, well, that's a good sign," Lewis says. He lifts his camera up again. “That is a good sign…"

Apollo settles himself a little lower against the post on my other side from Lewis, who's burying his face in that miniature viewfinder spot on the camera as he gets his shot prepared. I lean more toward Apollo and lower my hand from his head, scratching just a moment beneath his belly instead.

Apollo don't shoot me back no look. He just keeps looking forward and kind of tries a smile again, but I can see it ain't all there even as I pull my hand back over my knees. And Lewis don't say anything more, just getting his shot, good and satisfied by himself.

I got nothing more to offer, either. Can't think of a thing I'd like us to talk about.

I hate it when this many people got nothing to say together.