“How much sex?”
My mind whirls. Memories spin. I try to count orgasms. “... Seven, I think.”
Ned whistles down the phone. “Damn, kid, that’s impressive. In the future, try to keep it to two or three, otherwise he’ll figure out you aren’t human.”
“Okay,” I agree quickly.
I hear soft rustling down the phone and I can picture Ned slipping out of his bed and padding into the next room so he doesn’t wake Morgan.
“Is Flyn breathing?” Ned asks.
“Yes!” I knew enough to look for that. “Deep, even breaths. Like he is sleeping.”
“Alright, that sounds promising. What about his color?”
I run back to the bedroom. Flyn hasn’t moved since I left him. He still looks exactly the same.
“Flushed,” I tell Ned.
“That’s good. Sounds like everything is just fine, kid. You’ve simply tired him out.”
I draw in a big shaky breath. And then another. “What if I’ve hurt him… inside?”
The silence is deafening. Full of shock and surprise.
“You topped?”
I’m not insulted. My fey ancestry definitely makes me look like a twink, the type of man who would love to bottom. It is certainly what Ritchie wanted me for.
I only recently discovered my preference myself. Nevertheless, Flyn somehow knew. He figured it out long before I did. But I highly doubt anyone else will ever guess, unless I tell them.
“Yes,” I whisper down the phone. “All seven times,” I add, because that is probably important information.
“Damn, when you said seven times I thought you meant… nevermind.” There is a brief pause. I can almost hear Ned pulling himself together. “Did you open him up well first? Use lots of lube?”
“Yes and yes,” I answer. “But… um… I was quite… vigorous. I got carried away and he seemed to be really enjoying it, which spurred me on.”
My insides curl. This feels all kinds of wrong. I shouldn’t be sharing such intimate details about Flyn. But I have to make sure he is okay.
Ned breathes deeply. “You should check. Have a look… down there.”
I swallow. “He’s out cold. Isn’t that a bit violating?”
“It’s better than letting him bleed to death.”
My heart crashes against my ribcage. I nestle the phone between my cheek and my shoulder. With my newly freed hands, I maneuver Flyn’s inert body until I can clearly see his hole.
It’s pink and puffy, and despite my concern, the sight of it sends a bolt of arousal lancing through me.
“It… it looks good,” I say softly.
Oh sweet goddess, any other word would have been a better choice. Undamaged. Healthy. Anything but what just came out of my mouth.
“Any blood? Any sign of prolapse?”
My lungs seize at the thought I could have hurt Flyn that badly. I’m going to be so, so, gentle next time. So careful, that he is going to whine about it.
“No,” I wheeze weakly.
