Epilogue

“Take another handful, kid, you know you want to—” Robin waggled the cauldron full of candy that he was holding like he was offering the lineup of kids drugs. I tried not to laugh—and then stopped trying, because some things were impossible and there was no point wasting my energy.

The kid made a happy sound. I recognized him from a few weeks back. It was good to see he’d gotten over his ear infection and was feeling well enough to be out trick-or-treating. He grabbed a second entire handful of candy—before shoving it into his bowl with a grin, and a lisped out “thank you”, before tearing down the street, his dragon tail swinging.

“Fill up,” Robin commanded the next kid, looking way too fucking pleased about his giant four-foot cauldron. The entire thing was full. It’d taken us nearly an hour to dump all the bags of candy into it—and while it was maybe, definitely overkill—I couldn’t help but find it cute.

This was Robin’s first Halloween in Belleville and when I’d informed him that trick-or-treaters didn’t often come up to our door because it was around the back of the building, he’d been devastated .

Which was whyyyy we were out on the street, freezing our balls off, with Robin’s cauldron attracting flocks of kids as they ran by with their parents.

The girls were in bed already.

We’d taken them out earlier, and they’d tuckered right out after we’d wrangled them out of their matching Wednesday Addams costumes and into bed. Neither of them had wanted to be Pugsley. Robin and I were still dressed up as Gomez and Morticia, and I had no idea how he was managing to stay out here wearing …that.

His body was cupped by a floor-length black velvet gown that hugged every curve. It dipped down the center, and every time he leaned over I got a glimpse of those perky little nipple piercings.

I’d done my best not to stare—because being hard while handing out candy to children was a goddamn nightmare I did not want to live, thank you very much—but it was difficult.

He’d even done his makeup. Though I was more than a little glad that he’d abandoned the black wig only ten minutes into taking the girls out trick-or-treating earlier. Robin claimed it was itchy. A fact that I could empathize with, as my Gomez mustache was uncomfortable itself. It was relieving to know that he could choose comfort, even if I couldn’t.

“You’re going to single-handedly be responsible for ninety percent of the cavities these kids get,” I laughed as Robin waved at another group of kids. These ones looked closer to their teens and were dressed up as the cast of Stranger Things .

“Pshhh,” Robin waved me off, though he looked adorably giddy about the prospect. He and Miles hadn’t had big Halloweens like this when they were kids. He’d told me the saddest, most adorable stories about making Miles’s costumes for him when he was a kid—only for most of the houses to close up early, and their bags to remain mostly empty.

We were healing his inner child, one cavity at a time.

And I couldn’t be mad about that.

Especially when he made sure to give all the kids with beat-up sneakers the king-sized bars.

Robin’s therapist had urged him to do things like this. To allow him to work through some of the darker moments of his past by making brighter memories. Which was also why he’d randomly come home with giant stuffed animals (friends for the plushie I’d bought him), fake realistic crows (because omg, they’re so cool, Ben!), and enough Halloween decorations to choke the corners of our normally plain kitchen.

I didn’t mind though, I never had.

Seeing Robin’s chaos made me happy. Almost as happy as knowing that he was healing, that he was nesting, in his own way.

Two hours into our candy pedaling, the chill was beginning to get to me. I wasn’t the only one affected. Robin was hopping around on his feet, back and forth, his hands stuck into his armpits to keep warm.

“Robin?” I was about to suggest we go upstairs and warm up—but then I saw the look on his face and the words died.

Without another word, I peeled my suit jacket off and slung it over his shoulders.

Robin grinned brightly.

And I subjected myself to another hour of the cold because seeing that smile was worth any discomfort autumn might bring.

Robin waddled as he tried to haul his cauldron upstairs—only for me to gently urge him to the side and lift it myself. I moved slow and careful as always. Up the stairs we went, and he ducked around me to open the front door with a happy hum. His boots clomped on the floor as I set the cauldron down by the couch and rose up, twisting from side to side to stretch my back.

A lot had changed since last Halloween.

For the better, most definitely.

Robin was the best thing that had ever happened to me—and that had only proven to be even more true as the months blurred by, and we got to spend more time together.

He’d moved in right away—something that made me grateful as I was far too old to want to play games that way. He’d opted to keep his apartment in L.A. for when we visited Trixie and Nancy, another fact I appreciated—and something that proved to me once again just how thoughtful my little songbird was.

When the building next door to my medical practice had put up a for-sale sign in the spring, Robin had bought it immediately. He’d been so damn excited it was contagious. And I’d watched enraptured as he turned the downstairs into the recording studio of his dreams so that he could continue to create the music he wanted to, without the threat of labels or money hanging above him.

It was one of my new favorite things to curl up on the couch in his studio with the girls and listen to Robin play. He’d fiddle around, heaven-like notes dancing through the air, make an angry sound like it wasn’t good enough, only to immediately begin again and make more heavenly sounds.

He chewed through a pack of pencils every week, writing sonnets out on note pads, and abusing every utensil that came near his lovely mouth. And it was an honor to witness the evolution of his creativity, as Robin found his footing and began to make the things that made his heart happy.

The upstairs apartment above the studio was something else entirely. Robin had paid my brothers a pretty penny to renovate —only to politely kick them out when the walls and carpets were up and hire a new crew entirely.

None of them had been offended, which made me think that they must know something I didn’t.

A fact that was only proven on the night, sometime that summer, when Robin had brought me upstairs to show me what he’d built us.

“Is this weird?” he said, sounding nervous as I stared at the space, my heart fluttering like crazy. “It feels weird. It is weird, isn’t it? Dammit.”

What could only be described as a sex dungeon was laid out in front of me. There was a wall full of paddles and other miscellaneous tools for our pleasure, as well as a rather plush, rather large bed pushed to the back of the room. A leash hung beside the paddles, taunting me. There were other furniture pieces as well, things I glossed over as my gaze fell to the bed and the restraints that were already attached to each of the four posts.

In the back of the room, adjacent to the bed, was a gorgeous mahogany desk. It housed what had to be the most amazing chair I’d ever seen. Cushioned, with back support—lumbar specifically. Buttery leather that looked softer than sin.

“I figured this could be our space, you know?” Robin hummed, staring at me. “That desk is for you—when you’re writing.” He continued to talk, overselling the room, obviously nervous. I didn’t mean to not react—my mind was simply…imploding. “There’s a massage chair back there—” he gestured to the only corner of the room I hadn’t stared at yet. “For your back!” Robin added. “Because I love giving you rubs, and I’m definitely going to keep doing that—but I figured on the days that I’m not here, or you need a little extra—mmmmph.”

Robin’s mouth tasted as good as it always did.

His body was warm and pliant as marched him right over to the bed. He bounced a little when I pushed him down into it, a quiet whine escaping as I made quick work of the buttons on his jeans and shoved my hand inside to curl around his dick.

“Jesus fuck,” Robin gasped out, hips pushing into my hand, his eyes rolling back. “I take it you like it?”

“I love it.” I squeezed him tight enough to hurt—just the way he liked it—and Robin sobbed.

And then I proceeded to show him just how much I loved the oasis he’d made us with my hand, and my tongue, and then my cock. Shoving into him fast and hard from behind as he bit the pillows and sobbed, the sweet pink of his hole giving for me.

I dug my teeth into the back of his neck, tight enough to bruise, forcing him to lie down and take it as the bed frame smacked against the wall, and for the first time since we’d gotten together—I didn’t have to worry about making him make too much noise.

That wasn’t the only surprise, however.

Robin was full of surprises.

Like the fact he apparently hated musicals.

A musician…that hates musicals.

And the fact that he loved long socks—but only a very specific kind of long socks. They had to be, and I quote, “thick enough I don’t feel the boots, but not so thick that my toes are pinched.”

He loved French toast in the mornings—not as much as my pancakes, but still.

He loved taking care of me—especially on my “bad back” days. He’d spend hours watching the girls, rubbing my back, and making sure I had my muscle-relaxers, my foam roller, and anything I needed.

He loved doing dishes—which I hated doing.

He loved putting leftovers away—another thing I hated.

He loved stealing my sweaters and hoodies. Loved parading around town broadcasting to everyone whose bed he was sleeping in, and whose home was now his. Robin was very loud about how much he loved me. Sometimes to the point that he’d embarrass the hell out of me—make my cheeks go splotchy red—as he told the little old women at my mom’s book club that he’d joined, just how much he enjoyed my hands.

“They’re good hands,” he’d said, eyebrows wagging—always feeding the townies and their curiosity.

My mom cackled. She loved him. I’d known she would—but I hadn’t anticipated just how much. “Oh dear,” she said, shaking her head like she didn’t know what to do with him at all.

“How good?” Matilda asked, still holding her signed copy of my newest book.

Robin just grinned, wide and wicked, and wagged his eyebrows some more. And said, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Even after discovering that I was the author, my mother’s book club had continued to read my stories—a fact that both horrified and amused me. They got a kick out of “Little Benjamin Montgomery and his smutty tales.” And now a lot of them would make comments about the books during their check-ups. Trying to wheedle trade secrets out of me so they could use them as bargaining chips against each other.

It was humiliating and hilarious, all at once.

And I found I didn’t mind.

Especially because Robin got such a goddamn thrill out of it. Lording the fact he knew insider information over all of them like he held nuclear codes, and not knowledge over which werewolf couple would get a book next.

I had learned a lot about Robin over the last few months.

I learned that he loved going to the drive-in theater. Loved it when I forgot to shave and I scratched beard burn all over his neck. He loved the Christmas presents I’d bought him—an entire collection of soft, bat-covered things, and plushies. He loved decorating our house like it was Halloween, months in advance. We’d had bats hanging from our doors since June.

Robin loved being bitten, and grabbed, and pinched, and fucked.

Loved when the girls were at my mom’s and I could edge him for hours and hours and hours. Edge him till he sobbed and cried, hot tears spilling down his cheeks at the same time his little dick burst.

He loved the cock ring I bought him—red, just like I’d promised.

Loved it when he was still asleep and I’d slip it on him, then finger him nice and slow and take him from behind. Loved waking up stuffed full, with his nipple piercings tugged tight in my fingers.

“Jesus fuck,” Robin had gasped out, the fifth or sixth time I’d woken him that way. “Fuck yes.”

He’d been so tired after another sleepless night in the studio. After spending all day playing with the girls and taking them on adventures around town. He’d passed out before we’d even had our usual shared glass of wine—and right before he’d fallen asleep, he’d told me a single, lovely word. A word that meant this was a definite go, and I was welcome to do whatever I wanted.

“Green, Benisaurus Rex,” Robin had murmured, sleepy sweet and rough.

And then he’d promptly passed out.

He’d been so cute I hadn’t wanted to disturb him. But when the early hours of the morning hit and I woke up before him—I could no longer contain my hunger.

His skin was sleep-warm as I kissed the back of his neck, enjoying the prickle of his new haircut and the way the buzzed hair was shorn soft. Slowly, I slid kisses across his shoulders, and down the center of his spine, keeping my touch gentle, but firm enough not to tickle.

He made a sleepy sound, wiggling with a smack of his lips, his ass snug against my crotch.

Lower I kissed, down, down, until my lips skimmed his boxer briefs, and I was close enough to my prize I could feel anticipation burning bright in the air.

My cock was aching, the tease of the perfect globes of Robin’s ass making my head spin. With a hum, I buried my face between his cheeks, grinding my nose and lips in so I could suck at his sweet little hole through the fabric.

Robin shivered, but otherwise didn’t wake up.

Fuck.

God.

My dick hurt.

I reached down, squeezing it tight as I nosed at his hole through the fabric again, head swimming. The trust it took for him to allow me this was just— Jesus .

It really fucking did it for me.

Especially knowing Robin’s past and what he’d been through.

I slid his underwear down inch by inch, notching my lips at the top of his crease, my tongue lapping the sensitive skin as the fabric slid lower and lower. The moment the boxers slipped down past his knees, his pretty hole winked at me, hidden in dusky shadow between his cheeks.

Unable to help myself, I grabbed one, spreading him wide so I could get a better look.

Fuck, he was delicious. A dusting of pale hair circled his sweet pink hole, taunting me as I rumbled a pleased little sound and dove in to lave kisses over my favorite part of his body.

With every swipe of my tongue, Robin’s hole softened, like he was welcoming me in.

I checked periodically to see if he’d woken up, but he hadn’t?—

He was still completely unconscious.

It wasn’t long before I was too impatient to do much more than slick up my fingers and stick them inside where he was liquid-hot and tight. Robin grunted, his hips shifting a little as one finger became two, and I worried the back of his neck with my teeth, my dick hard enough to drill a hole into the mattress.

I wanted to stick it inside him so fucking bad.

Wanted to shove in and in and in, and wake him up with him knowing exactly who he belonged to. Wanted to fuck him till my cum filled him up, then fuck him again just to drive it deeper.

When he was ready, I pulled my fingers free, marveling as his hole gaped. It tried to shut. A valiant effort that was fruitless, it was too well-fucked.

“Fuck.” I hardly recognized my voice as I slicked up my cock and pressed the flushed crown to his loose rim. His hole gave easily, sliding like butter as I slipped in, one inch at a time—slowly, slowly.

It wasn’t until I was fully seated that Robin finally woke.

He made this startled sound—my favorite sound—and then whined, his hips shifting wider to accommodate my girth. Already, he was grinding into the mattress, then back against me—even though his brain wasn’t awake enough for words.

“Fuck yes,” Robin finally managed, voice low and sleep-scratchy. “Fuck me, big guy. Give me that big ole?—”

I pulled out and slammed back into him, eyes rolling back as the hot-pink of his ass gave beneath my dick. Fuck, it was heaven. Molten lava just clutching, clutching at me. So fucking tight. I loved the way our balls tapped when I sunk in deep. I loved the way his tiny body struggled to fit my girth. Loved when he was still half asleep and relaxed. Loved feeling him wake up around me, his body twitching to life.

“Breed me,” Robin begged, voice quaking. “That’s it, Ben-Ben—I need it.”

In and out I rutted. Over and over. Smack, smack, smack—until Robin’s words dried up and all he could do was sob. His waist felt tiny in my grip. The perfect handle to force him onto my cock.

When I finished, I groaned low, unable to help myself. I’d wanted to hold on longer, but Robin had been furiously humping the mattress—and he’d made the prettiest sound when he’d come. Clutched my dick nice and tight and made me see stars.

I flexed my hips, fucking my cum back into him a few more, glorious times. When I was done, I settled my hips against Robin’s, cock nestled as deep as it could go so it could soften up while still inside him—just the way he liked.

“Fuck, I love you,” Robin hummed. He twisted to give me one last happy little smile before he promptly fell right back to sleep—stuffed full and sated.

“Ben—” Robin’s voice interrupted my thoughts, as he wandered toward me from the kitchen, the slinky black fabric of his Morticia outfit clinging to his frame. “You okay?” He frowned, concerned. “You didn’t hurt your back with the cauldron, did you?”

I shook my head. “Just thinking.”

“Thinking?” Robin arched an eyebrow, and I reached for him, tucking him easily under my chin.

“Thinking about how pretty you are when you take my dick.”

“Oohhhh, I like this train of thought,” Robin laughed against my chest, snuggling his arms around me and squeezing me just as tight. “Sounds like I’m getting some vitamin B tonight.” Robin blinked. “Vitamin D?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Filling up my prescript-Ben.”

“Thinking about how I want to do this forever,” I murmured, my heart fluttering, the sweet expression on his face undoing me entirely if his jokes hadn’t.

“Hug me?” Robin squeezed tighter. “Fuck me? Listen to my superior jokes?”

“All of the above.” I pressed a kiss to his head, the thoughts I’d been having for months dangling on the tip of my tongue. “Robin…” My voice was warm, my heart thumping anxiously as I pulled back a little so that he would too.

“ Benjamin ?” He tipped his head up to meet my gaze, a question in his eyes that I couldn’t help but answer.

“How would you feel about a spring wedding?”

“A spring—” Robin’s eyes went wide. He shoved me away from him faster than I could blink. And then his feet were thundering down the hall and he was running from me—and I only had a split second to realize I’d fucked up before Robin’s voice was echoing from the back of the house and soothing all my fears.

“Go, go, go !” he yelled.

There was a clatter of tiny feet hitting the floor.

“This is not a drill!” Riotous giggles danced through the air. It was a testament to how excited the girls were, and how obviously this had been planned, that they weren’t grumpy at all at being awoken. “Code red!”

“I wanted it to be code black,” Rosie’s quiet voice complained.

“I wanted code purple,” Jane added.

“Code whatever the fuck you want!” Robin’s voice yelled again. Meowth, our black cat, sat on top of the grandfather clock staring at me, obviously unimpressed by our shenanigans. His tail swooped lazily, back and forth, almost in tune with the tick, tick of the clock.

I snorted out a laugh, my heart thumping as I heard more rustling, more muttered yells, and waited for whatever my loves had in store.

Rosie was the first to enter the hallway. She was wearing her pajamas, and her hair was a mess. Twin pigtail braids disheveled. In her arms, she had a poster—covered in glitter—probably courtesy of Bubba, who had dubbed himself the king of poster-making. I did my best not to read it because I was certain it would ruin the surprise if I did.

“Close your eyes!” Robin yelled at me as he burst into the hallway, herding Jane and her matching sign in front of him.

I closed my eyes.

More rustling, more whispered words.

“Okay!” Robin hummed. “Open.”

When I opened my eyes the sight that greeted me nearly took me to my knees.

The twins were grinning, as was Robin, standing directly behind them, his own sign held high above his head. Spelled out across the three posters in looping, glittery font were four, beautiful words.

Will you marry me?

My heart was racing as I took it all in, taking a mental snapshot so I’d never forget this moment—or the expression on any of their faces. The girls looked incredibly excited, their eyes bright, matching grins on their faces.

“So?” Robin waited, his sign wobbling.

“So?” I teased, eyes dancing.

“Yes or no, motherfucker?”

The girls snickered.

“Yes,” I agreed, because what else was I supposed to say? When faced with the cutest fucking proposal I’d ever seen.

“Fuck!” Robin swore, nearly dropping his sign. “ Dammit . Where’s Meowth?” He dropped his sign and pointed at the girls with one painted finger. “Wait here. We forgot the cat.”

“You forgot the?—”

“There he is!” Robin skittered over to the grandfather clock, hopping up and down, up and down, trying to catch him. Meowth stared at him, just as unimpressed as he’d been with me, before he finally let Robin pull him down. “One sec!” He wagged a finger at me, and then dug around in his pockets—he’d insisted his dress needed pockets, and now I knew why—before pulling out a handkerchief and a ring.

“Stop looking!” Robin glared at me, and I twisted my head away, sharing a snicker with the girls as he swore some more and got Meowth ready. “Go!” he commanded the cat. I turned to look because I couldn’t help it.

Meowth did not go.

“C’mon!” Robin gestured toward me. “Go to Papa Ben-Ben.” The cat again, did not go. “Jesus Christ . You’re ruining my proposal,” Robin wailed, obviously distressed. “I’ll give you a treat,” he bargained. “Two treats. Three?”

“Baby—”

Meowth moved, slinking toward me, the handkerchief around his neck winking as something shiny hung from it, near his throat.

“Thank God.” Robin was beaming at me again, practically vibrating in excitement. “Go on!” He waved both hands at me, bouncing on his heels. “Surprise!”

I was definitely surprised, that was for sure.

Bending down, I carefully unwrapped the handkerchief from around Meowth’s neck. I tried to pet him but he swiped at me, then trotted off, back to the grandfather clock, which he climbed like a goddamn ninja before settling to watch.

The ring that hung from the fabric was gold. Simple. Just the way I liked.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I gently wiggled it free.

“What do you think?” Robin was right in my space. I’d been so distracted that I hadn’t even noticed him approaching. “Look on the inside. It’s engraved.” He wiggled in excitement, so pleased he might as well have had a tail to wag.

“I love it,” I replied honestly, throat tight and eyes burning. I twisted the ring around, shifting it in the light so I could see what was etched inside.

“You’re my…” A snort escaped, my heart expanding as I finished reading the last few words, “Happy Ben-ding?”

“That’s right, motherfucker. You’re my?—”

I kissed him, slipping the ring on, safe and snug. It fit perfectly, just like he did, as I swung him in the air, and the riotous cheers of the twins echoed. I kissed Robin then. Kissed him like the world was ending. Kissed him like he’d always deserved to be kissed.

And I was grateful then, to the universe for putting me in his path.

To the airline for giving me the seat next to his.

And to Robin most of all.

Because he was the best gift I’d ever received.

And I knew my future would be filled with joy because of him.

My precious little songbird, my sunshine, and the family that we’d built.

Blissfully, gloriously, ridiculously happy.

Forever and ever.

The End

Thank you so much for reading and happy holidays to all of you! This project was genuinely such a joy to create. I was kicking my feet and giggling the whole time. Robin, especially, is near and dear to me and there were a few moments within the story that felt like they broke my heart just to mend it right after. This year has been a hard year and it was such a delight to be able to dive back into Belleville again and get to experience the magic of this fun little holiday series for a third time.

Rest assured, that this will not be our last trip to Belleville, though what direction the muse flows is your guess as good as mine. This series has become such a comfort to me. It feels like a hug for my heart, and I cannot wait to visit this silly little town with all its lovely people again. Thank you so much for all your comments, messages, and motivation. It has meant the world to me as I was creating this book to know how many of you were excited to read Robin and Ben’s story.

Special thanks to Molly for making my books look like magic. To Kat for all the beautiful ‘Southern-isms’. To all my wonderful alpha readers for keeping me sane and motivated as I wrote! I love you all to bits.

Thank you to everyone who contributed their time, energy, and love to this project; you are all my dear friends. And most of all, thank you to the reader, because without you, the creation of this story would have been meaningless. I write the words, but you are the ones who bring the story to life. Each and every one of you is priceless. Thank you for falling in love with these characters alongside me. I love all of you so much.

If you’d like to keep in touch with me and get access to exclusive mini-fics, character art, author updates, and more, sign up for my newsletter here . Or join my Facebook group, Fae’s Faves ! You can also find me on Instagram .

All shares, comments, reviews, and discussion of If Only in Our Dreams are encouraged and appreciated!

Happy Holidays! I’ll see you in 2025.

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