Chapter Nine: The Fox at Sunrise — Part 1
The three men have nothing to talk about beyond the trip in the absence of the women, but Tomas, is urgent in his warnings about how to move through the arches. He insists that they stop by and load up on sweetened jerky, a spicy sort of pemmican of his design. Opus and Arpie have the map, and begin preparing for the journey. Tomas explains to them what they will need to travel the arches, and advises on a course that keeps them on land for most of the trip. Despite the arches, the trip will include several days riding in heavy forest, near rivers edge and marsh. There will be plenty of time to travel, and the two will take plenty of time, because Arpie intends to take a lazy, cautious path back home.
“You two be safe. There have been no pockets of people found on our arch hops. The hands have always returned. None of them would go where Gina will send you.” Tomas says, standing up to pack and leave.
Arpie takes a moment to close down the fire and pack the dried and smoked fish away for Beth’s restaurant and shop. He will use it to barter a meal at one of her tables, and because he has grown to love her as much as he loves Opus, he’ll let her rip him off for his efforts. Opus knows he does this and smiles every time. Beth is still young, and if she suspects him being overly gracious in his haggling, she assumes it’s because he loves her cooking, and not because she treats Opus so well. Thinking of this, Opus smiles. He hasn’t thought beyond his next meal, hasn’t thought what Beth and her ‘sisters’ will do when she finds out the kind of trip Opus is going on. If he had, he might have sent Opus into town alone.
Leaving all of the smoked fish packed and set on the porch, Arpie and Opus stop long enough to heat water and take a shower at his cabin, and then wash their clothes and hang them to dry in the sun. They change into fresh clothes under a fickle sun, comfortable with each other as only two friends can be. Seeing the clouds build in the distance, Opus knows the clothes hanging will be wet again before he can get home to take them down, but it’s more important to Arpie to pack for the trip than to worry over clothes that may suffer further cleaning in the rain, so the two work diligently to pack clothes and supplies away and leave them ready on the beds for their return.
Once the fish are packed back onto the horses, Opus and Arpie begin their careful ride into town, minutes ahead of the earnest rain, arriving at Beth’s Pub. Opus brings in the fish in two strong hands, carrying them back for Julia to sort and store while Arpie and Beth start haggling over quantity and value. Soon he has secured an agreement for several day’s dinners while Opus has finished helping with the fish. Beth goes back to take Opus up to her room while Kimble gets Arpie his first of five meals. Quietly, Arpie eats his food. He’s waiting with his usual cat-like slyness, waiting for the hot sex, which he is happy not to hear, to end. He’s also waiting for his soup to cool.
Kimble knows the look: The almost feline expression that hints at trouble Arpie suspects will soon be knocking on the wood around them. She’s not used to see him waiting for the soup to cool, as he usually blows gently on each spoonful with cautious impatience, and knows that Arpie must have his mind elsewhere, unable to divert the energy required to give his soup such habitual attention. His newfound patience, his subtle motions, that hint of an introspective smile that barely shifts the gentle wrinkles aging his face, all have Kimble on edge. She knows trouble is coming. She immediately blames Arpie, which she is prone to do any time Beth is about to get mad. With just a look to the kitchen, Kimble has allies, and with no pretense of being friendly, the trio joins Arpie at his table.
Having experienced this kind of cowing on more than one occasion, Arpie sips his soup, nibbles at his steak, and waits patiently for the inevitable maelstrom.
Sex with Opus is a cautious thing. Opus isn’t built exactly like other men or women: He isn’t the average of other men, or the shape of other women, but something in between in which, somehow, everything works a little too well. He is, technically, a chimera, and because of this, sex is a product of duality that only came to be because two sets of cells, originally twins, decided to commingle at the most basic level of creation, and his mother’s body couldn’t bring itself to end the result. Sex is a wet, fragrant, incredible thing that will only end exactly when Beth says it will, and not a moment sooner. And though Opus loves every minute of it, the absolute surrender of control is something of a sacrifice in the situation, caused by a mix of guilt and need. Neither of them can get pregnant, there are no fears of that until they’re ready and Beth removes her IUD. The nervousness between them comes from the steady state of Opus, both in regards to erection and orgasm. He literally cannot and will not stop until Beth is done.
Currently, Beth is fully undressed and she pauses only for a moment, when Opus is about to talk, putting a finger to his lips. “Tell me what’s bugging you after I’ve gotten what I want, sugar.”
