When they were done and had cleaned up, they shared a bed once more—this time for slumber. Now in their pajamas, they stared at each other.
“Sorry about that…,” Pete murmured.
“Mm?” Oliver asked with a smile.
Pete looked away, embarrassed and awkward.
“This might sound like an excuse, but…I think the stress of suppressing the change had me pretty riled up. My head’s cleared…now that I’ve turned male and…gotten some relief…”
The memories of that had him blushing again, and Oliver gently ran a finger down his cheek.
“And that’s another way this affects you, huh? Sorry, I should have realized.”
“Don’t you dare. I may have been a tad eager, but even now, my core stance hasn’t changed.”
He reached out and gave Oliver a hug.
Pete had things he could not lose. He’d risk anything to keep them safe; his love was so great, he’d never let that go—even if it meant turning himself into something else.
“I’m not letting anyone have you. I’m not letting you go anywhere else. Not Guy, Katie, Nanao, Chela…or you…!”
A wish like a curse. Oliver had no words to respond to this, so he merely returned a silent embrace. It burned him to know this wish could not come to pass—and he was pushing Pete toward a corner with no escape.