My head falls back onto the pillow and I think he takes pity on me. He lets go of one of my legs and slips a finger inside me and I instantly forgive all the teasing because his hands are fucking magic. I knew this from the moment we met and it’s finally paying dividends. The combination of the pressure of his finger and his tongue against my clit and my inability to use my own hands makes me writhe. My thighs are tight around his ears, but I’m sure he can still hear the way I’m moaning. I’m helpless in the greatest way. The moment I cede the last strand of control I’ve been clinging to, he coaxes me over the edge, pulling a carnal noise out of me that would be mortifying in any other context. I’m engulfed in pure, mindless sensation. For those few moments, I don’t know who or where I am; it’s immaculate.
And when the glittery feeling recedes, this other emotion surfaces: this pooling of pride and gratitude and peace. Excitement for the future.
Clearly it’s been awhile since another human made me come like this. Usually I’m duping myself into believing that my own hand isn’t in control of the vibrator.
I hear a muffled “Again?” and strain my neck to see the top of Nick’s head.
“Two to beam up.” My voice is ragged. “I think my ears popped. You tortured me.”
“You really are dramatic. It’s cute.” He pushes himself uponto his knees. “And I’m not going to let you fake-complain aboutthat.” He reaches for the ties. “You should applaud.”
“I can’t feel my hands.”
“The thing is, I’ve noticed—totally against my will—that you come way too fast when left to your own devices.”
“I have a limited amount of alone time in the morning,” I say. “I have to be efficient.”
“You don’t have to be efficient with me. In fact”—he pulls the ties off the headboard slats and tosses them to the side—“we’re going to be as inefficient as humanly possible.”
“Does this mean we’ve already exhausted the vanilla portion of our relationship?”
“Never.” He lies down next to me. “I think I could have the most vanilla sex with you for a very long time and be in heaven.”
A few responses float through my mind, but I don’t say any of them out loud. They’re all too tinged with the darker shades of my defense mechanisms. But I mentally underlinea very long time.I draw an exclamation point next to it in bright red ink.
I point to the top of Nick’s bicep. “Okay, now explain the teacup.”
“Earl Grey, hot. It’s how Picard orders his tea from the replicator.” He smiles and it beams directly into my dumb heart. “It’s iconic, trust me. Everything on this arm is fromStar Trek: The Next Generation.We’ll have to start watching it so you can truly appreciate the right half of my body.”
“Oh, I’m very appreciative. Of both halves.” I lean in to kiss the teacup, pause, and plant a raspberry on his shoulder instead.
“Goddammit!” He flinches and then exhales. “I never should’ve told you that raspberry story.”
I kiss him on the mouth. “I like your tattoos. You’re very committed to this one intellectual property.”
He turns onto his back and looks at the opposite wall. “I’mnot ashamed of my body or anything. But I’m aware that it’s…average, I guess? And that’s fine. There was a point in my life where I felt very confident about it. I was unloading trucks all day, climbing on shit. I earned that. But it’s not my priority anymore. I barely even think about it, to be honest. Except for now. Because you’re probably—”
“I’m not.” I grab his chin and force him to look me in the eye. “I’m into it. You just witnessed how much I’m into it.”
“I did.” He breathes out. “I showed you mine, so”—he points at my leg—“what’s this?”
I roll forward so the side of my right leg is more visible. “I told you already. Magneto’s helmet.”
“Exactly. You’re also very committed to a specific intellectual property.”
“No, no. I diversified a few years ago. Look, I have the hands from Michelangelo’s creation of Adam.” I stretch my forearm over his chest. “The most beautiful pair of hands ever drawn, so…no-brainer for me and—what?” I notice him staring.
“You’re kind of glowing.”
“That might be from the orgasms,” I say.
“And I’m happy to be your captive audience. You can tie me up and tell me about Michelangelo’s hands anytime.”
“Damn, youareinto some weird shit.” I tickle his sides and he wraps me in his arms and I think a giant hit of dopamine explodes in my brain, leading me to say, “When you hold me, I just feel so…held?”
Nick bursts out laughing.
It made sense in my head. “Okay, you’re also making me lose brain cells. Your giant cock displaced them.”
