Bred by a Gay Monster
James, a thirty-five-year-old man with short-cropped dark hair and piercing blue eyes, had the kind of strong jawline that rendered his face both handsome and stern. His broad shoulders were a testament to the hours he spent at the gym, but his muscular physique hid a gentle soul.
He lived in a quiet suburban neighborhood with his wife Lily, their home nestled amongst others that looked nearly identical. The red-bricked house was modest in size, with a meticulously maintained front lawn and a white picket fence that bordered their property. It was the very epitome of ordinary – a symbol of the seemingly simple life they had built together.
“Morning, love,” Lily greeted James with a soft smile as she handed him a steaming cup of coffee. They sat together at the kitchen table, the sunlight filtering through the window casting warm shadows onto their faces.
“Thanks, sweetheart.” James took a sip, his eyes never leaving hers, appreciating the way her green eyes sparkled, seemingly reflecting the love they shared.
As they enjoyed their breakfast, sharing bits of idle conversation and laughter, something darker stirred within James, a yearning he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He felt it in the way his gaze trailed down to Lily’s neck, how his fingers wrapped around the coffee mug, tightening ever so slightly, imagining a different kind of grip.