Page 60 of Luxuries of Lust

Gem straightened and shimmied, showing off the white high-necked halter top clinging to his flat chest. “I have ostentatious bikinis, but I wanted something a little more classic.”

And if it happened to be white—one of the colors Rusty could actually see—well, that was purely by coincidence.

The onceover Rusty gave him was warm and appreciative, but not lecherous. “Looks good.”

“Thanks,” Gem murmured, trying to smother the flutters in his stomach. Since Rusty didn’t hand out compliments willy-nilly, any time he offered one to Gem, it made him feel extra squishy inside. Which was not helping the whole inconvenient-crush situation one bit.

Plyzh Beach ran along what little coast Gluttony district had. It was a pathetic stretch of coarse, gray-ish teal sand that Hellians from the Pride district would never be caught dead frequenting. Envyhad the best beaches, as it was entirely bordered by the sea, but most of them were private or pay-to-swim.

Envy was the beauty district, known for their shopping malls, plastic surgery centers, and spas. Most of the coast was owned by fancy resorts, and only those with a membership were allowed to patronize them. Which meant Gem had never been to any of them.

Hymab was the only public beach in that entire district, and since it was leagues nicer than Plyzh, it was always packed with people from all over the Pentagram. Plyzh wasn’t empty of visitors by any means, but it was somewhat quieter and Gem could swim without feeling like he was going to drown under the mass of bodies that filled the iridescent dark waters of Hymab.

Given the offensive temperature today, even Plyzh was teeming with people, but Gem and Rusty managed to find an open chunk of sand. They claimed as much of it as they could, spreading out their belongings to ensure there would be enough space for the others.

Gem untied his sarong and fanned it out next to his beach towel while Rusty removed his shirt and used it to complete the border of their patch of land. The blue sun blazed overhead, and Gem wiped sweat from his brow as he plopped onto his towel, sand already sticking to the underside of his thighs under the skirt of his swim bottoms.

“The others better get here fast because I’m officially turning to mush,” he whined, glaring at a gaggle of giggling children who ran past, kicking sand onto Gem’s towel. “Watch it, ankle-biters!”

With a snort, Rusty unbuttoned his baggy, black jeans and shoved them down to reveal an equally black pair of loose board shorts. “You know sand is unavoidable when you’re at the beach, right?”

“It’s not the sand. It’s the kids.”

“Kids are also unavoidable when you’re at the beach.”

“If I wanted children in my general vicinity, I’d birth some,” Gem sniffed haughtily.

Rusty wrinkled his nose, whiskers twitching. “You pregnant sounds like a nightmare.”

“You’re telling me! If it was actually physically possible for me to be impregnated, I would probably kill myself,” Gem said, lying back on the elbows of his lowest arms, stretching his toebeans, tarsal claws flexing. “Toni loves kids. He’d probably have a baker’s dozen if given the opportunity. Could never be me.”

“Same. I can’t imagine bringing a kid into this shitty world,” Rusty said as he lowered himself to the towel beside him.

Head lolling, Gem studied Rusty through the yellowish tint of his sunglasses. “That’s altruistic. My reasons for not having kids are entirely selfish. I love my life too much to give it up for some smelly, sticky spawn.”

Like he was fighting a laugh, Rusty coughed roughly, then cleared his throat. “I don’t think all kids are sticky.”

“I’m the oldest of seventeen.” Gem slid his sunglasses down his nose and levelled Rusty with an intense stare. “Trust me when I say thatallchildren are sticky.”

Rusty balked. “Seventeen? Unholy shit.”

With a shrug, Gem centered his sunglasses and tilted his head toward the sky. “Yeah, I’m assuming my parents just don’t have hobbies beyond fucking all the time. My youngest sibling is three, and Mymi is pregnant again and about ready to lay. So in, like, two months, there’s gonna be more infants skittering around, slobbering everywhere. And anytime that happens, Yma gets baby fever, so then she’ll probably wanna have more too, and on and on the cycle goes. It’s disgusting, honestly.”

Propped on his elbow, Rusty lay on his side, facing him fully. “Who’s Mymi and Yma?”

“My other moms. My parents are a polycule. Have I never told you that?” Rusty shook his head, and Gem hummed in surprise, then held up four fingers. “Well, Maman is the one who birthed my egg sac, and Mymi and Yma are also my moms; I just didn’t come out of their bodies. And then there’s my dad.

“On the surface, it’s so ick because of patriarchy and shit, but seeing as my dad is almost as femme as me anddefinitelythe bottom in the relationship, I feel like it’s hella progressive.”

At Rusty’s befuddled, somewhat dubious expression, Gem doubled down. “Like, for real, I’m pretty sure the only time my dad ever tops my moms is when they wanna procreate.” He paused, then backtracked. “You know what, not even then. They probably use one of those gourmet baster thingies when they wanna get knocked up. Just shoot that shit right up to the baby maker.”

Rusty swallowed thickly, looking somewhat ill. “Sometimes, I really, really hate the things you say.”

“Not gonna lie, I’m right there with you,” Gem commiserated. “I went a bit too far with the baster-thing. I even gave myself the ick.”

To his surprise and delight, Rusty burst into rough laughter as he rolled onto his back, one leg stretched out, the other cocked, knee pointing to the sky. His tail fanned out in the space between them, the end thumping against the towel with amusement. Sneakily, Gem ran the fingers of his middle hand over the coarser hairs there, keeping his touch light so Rusty wouldn’t catch him.

“Seventeen kids and four parents,” Rusty said as his chuckles faded. “That explains somuch.”

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