Klas's pov:
So, Mickey, my husband, has pretty much stayed the same since we first met - you know, still has that mix of meanness, rudeness, and annoyance. You might remember from way back that he's got this thing of scratching his brow when he's ne...
Finally, the day I had eagerly anticipated arrived - the occasion to showcase my husband. While the ostensible reason was the recent sale of my painting, I subtly conveyed to the guests that it was a celebration of artistic success. I took meticulous care to ensure Mickey looked effortlessly handsome, driven by the need to assert his unwavering connection to me in the presence of Adrian. The abruptness of the party left Mickey visibly perplexed, yet his willingness to comply with my desires was unquestionable.
Adrian's ill-advised challenge, directed at someone as inherently competitive as myself, set the stage for a strategic game. This was more than a mere social gathering; it was a battlefield, and I was determined to emerge victorious. My motive went beyond reveling in the sale of my artwork; it was a calculated move to assert dominance and ensure that Adrian understood, unequivocally, that Mickey was, and forever would be, mine.
Mickey:
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We sent Willow to Natalie's for the night, as the event was exclusively for adults. The grand party unfolded within the expansive halls of a rented museum. Walking in hand in hand with Mickey, I recognized my role as the host, eager to be there ahead of the guests despite my anticipation. Tonight, I had subtly infused Mickey with a more flirtatious and compelling demeanor, a strategic move in the ongoing rivalry with Adrian.
As we entered, I greeted familiar faces among my friends and fellow artists. Mickey, unaccustomed to such gatherings, remained reserved. "Honey, why am I here again?" he inquired, locking eyes with me. What I admired most about Mickey was his confident gaze-a look that could both intimidate and connect, reflecting his genuine nature.
"Because you're my partner," I replied with a smile, his reciprocation echoing warmth. "Can I at least have some food?" he requested, and I nodded. "How about a slice of chocolate cake?" I suggested. His eagerness was palpable as I took his hand, leading him towards the food section.
Just as I was about to hand him a plate with a piece of chocolate cake, my attention shifted as I noticed Adrian observing us from a distance. Swiftly retracting the plate, I decided to feed Mickey myself. Arching an eyebrow in confusion, Mickey accepted. "Is it good, my husband?" I inquired, ensuring my words carried to where Adrian stood. Mickey, perplexed but compliant, nodded, his eyes meeting mine as I continued with a subtle smile.
"Do you love me?" I intentionally queried Mickey, acutely aware of Adrian's lingering gaze. Reveling in the game of making Adrian jealous, I wanted to assert my claim over Mickey. "Of course, I love you, Klasenbrook," Mickey responded with a smile, sealing his words with a kiss. Seizing the opportunity, I deepened the kiss, a smirk playing on my lips. Mickey, reciprocating, held my waist, drawing me closer with a contented smile.
Suddenly, a cough interrupted our moment, and I turned to see Adrian standing nearby. "Oh, Adrian," I greeted him with an evil smile, firmly clutching Mickey's hand. "Nice party you have here," Adrian remarked, his gaze fixed on Mickey. "Thank you; it's just a gathering," I replied, forcing a smile as I observed Mickey, uninterested in the conversation.
"Don't you have a partner to bring?" I deliberately probed, concealing my amusement. Adrian chuckled, saying, "Oh no, you know what? I'm a picky man. I prefer blondes," a deliberate provocation that irked me. My blonde husband, engrossed in his cake, seemed oblivious to the tension.
"I guess we have the same type," I retorted, maintaining composure despite my rising irritation. Adrian continued his teasing, suggesting, "I'd be nice if Mickey was single; I'd have snatched him." That was the breaking point. "He's mine, will always be," I asserted, my patience waning. Adrian laughed dismissively, asserting, "It's not up to you," leaving me visibly upset.
As I began to respond, Mickey intervened, diplomatically urging, "Stop fighting, boys. Don't you guys understand the fucking definition of a party? To have fun and not to fucking fight?" His words diffused the tension, and with a smile, he returned to enjoying his cake.
"Yes, I know, but this man fails to comprehend that you're mine, Mickey," I stated, my gaze fixed on Adrian, a clear expression of discontent. Adrian met my stare with acknowledgment, and in the charged atmosphere of the party, the threat of a physical altercation loomed.
"Honey," Mickey interjected, using that endearing term in front of Adrian, a subtle declaration of our connection. Before the tension could escalate, a guest called for my attention, momentarily interrupting us. Seizing the opportunity, I kissed Mickey passionately. "Love you, husband," I smiled and gracefully walked away, relishing the satisfaction of knowing Adrian had witnessed the undeniable connection between Mickey and me.
Mickey's pov:
I found myself perplexed by my husband's unusual behavior that evening-possessive and needy, a departure from his typical demeanor. While I wasn't inclined to complain, the thought that his actions might be orchestrated to incite jealousy in Adrian left me uneasy. I resisted being treated as a mere pawn in someone else's game, but loyalty to Klas prevailed. In every disagreement, even when he was evidently wrong, I stood by his side, regardless of the consequences.
"So..." Adrian trailed off once Klas departed. "Fuckin what?" I asked, savoring a bite of cake. "Are you genuinely happy with Klas?" he inquired, his eyes carrying a flirtatious undertone. I nodded, indulging in the sweetness of my dessert. When Adrian attempted to touch my face, I instinctively pushed his hand away. "The fuck is wrong with you?" I hissed, and he offered an innocent smile. "Oh, there are crumbs on your lip," he explained. Wiping my lips, I frowned at him. "If it hasn't sunk in yet, I'm taken," I retorted, my frustration simmering. Adrian chuckled, expressing a wish that a handsome man like me were single, causing my fists to clench and my blood to boil. However, I restrained my emotions, determined not to mar my husband's carefully arranged party.
"You don't fucking speak to my husband so rudely again, ya hear me, dipshit?" I asserted with a frown, walking away in search of Klas.
I approached Klas, who was leisurely sipping his drink, and a wide smile lit up his face as he noticed me. Casually, I wrapped an arm around his waist. "How are you?" he asked, giggling, and I chuckled in response. "Adrian's a fucker" I confessed, prompting laughter from Klas.
"So, I don't have to worry about him trying to steal you?" he inquired, his gaze fixed on me. I playfully frowned. "No man can claim my heart other than you," I smirked, and Klas blushed. "Don't worry, I'm yours and yours alone," I reassured him. "Let's not fight again, Mickey," Klas proposed, and I nodded, affirming, "Promise."
As the party came to a close, we drove to Natalie's to pick up Willow and then headed straight home. Upon our arrival, I carried Willow to her bed and tucked her in. Deciding to indulge in a quick shower, I eventually retired to bed, waiting for Klas to finish his shower so that we could sleep together, wrapped in each other's embrace.
